calculation of planetary motions, and was thus incapable of rigorous verification. But so far as we can institute a comparison, facts are entirely against the vortices. Newton did not ridicule the theory as absurd, but showed9 that it was “pressed with many difficulties.” He carefully pointed out that the Cartesian theory was inconsistent with the laws of Kepler, and would represent the planets as moving more rapidly at their aphelia than at their perihelia.10 The rotatory motion of the sun and planets on their own axes is in striking conflict with the revolutions of the satellites carried round them; and comets, the most flimsy of bodies, calmly pursue their courses in elliptic paths, irrespective of the vortices which they pass through. We may now also point to the interlacing orbits of the minor planets as a new and insuperable difficulty in the way of the Cartesian ideas.
Newton, though he established the best of theories, was also capable of proposing one of the worst; and if we want an instance of a theory decisively contradicted by facts, we have only to turn to his views concerning the origin of natural colours. Having analysed, with incomparable skill, the origin of the colours of thin plates, he suggests that the colours of all bodies are determined in like manner by the size of their ultimate particles. A thin plate of a definite thickness will reflect a definite colour; hence, if broken up into fragments it will form a powder of the same colour. But, if this be a sufficient explanation of coloured substances, then every coloured fluid ought to reflect the complementary colour of that which it transmits. Colourless transparency arises, according to Newton, from particles being too minute to reflect light; but if so, every black substance should be transparent. Newton himself so acutely felt this last difficulty as to suggest that true blackness is due to some internal refraction of the rays to and fro, and an ultimate stifling of them, which he did not attempt to explain further. Unless some other process comes into operation, neither refraction nor reflection, however often repeated, will destroy the energy of light. The theory therefore gives no account, as Brewster shows, of 24 parts out of 25 of the light which falls upon a black coal, and the remaining part which is reflected from the lustrous surface is equally inconsistent with the theory, because fine coal-dust is almost entirely devoid of reflective power.11 It is now generally believed that the colours of natural bodies are due to the unequal absorption of rays of light of different refrangibility.
Experimentum Crucis.
As we deduce more and more conclusions from a theory, and find them verified by trial, the probability of the theory increases in a rapid manner; but we never escape the risk of error altogether. Absolute certainty is beyond the powers of inductive investigation, and the most plausible supposition may ultimately be proved false. Such is the groundwork of similarity in nature, that two very different conditions may often give closely similar results. We sometimes find ourselves therefore in possession of two or more hypotheses which both agree with so many experimental facts as to have great appearance of truth. Under such circumstances we have need of some new experiment, which shall give results agreeing with one hypothesis but not with the other.
Any such experiment which decides between two rival theories may be called an Experimentum Crucis, an Experiment of the Finger Post. Whenever the mind stands, as it were, at cross-roads and knows not which way to select, it needs some decisive guide, and Bacon therefore assigned great importance and authority to instances which serve in this capacity. The name given by Bacon has become familiar; it is almost the only one of Bacon’s figurative expressions which has passed into common use. Even Newton, as I have mentioned (p. 507), used the name.