If those, who studied the nutrition of plants and especially the movement of their sap in the period between Hales and Ingen-Houss, had kept a firm hold on Malpighi’s view, that the nutritive substances are elaborated in the leaves, and had combined it with Hales’ idea, that plants derive a large portion of their substance from the air, they would have had a principle to guide them in their investigations into the movement of the sap; and by experimenting on living plants they might have succeeded in giving a more definite expression to these ideas, even though chemistry and physics supplied during that time no new aids. We have said already that such was not the course of events; physiologists confined their attention to the obvious phenomena of vegetation, and trusted in so doing to gain a firmer footing, but in this they never got beyond a commonplace and unreflecting empiricism, because their observation was without an object, and their conclusions without a principle. They wandered from the right direction, as always happens when observation is not guided by a well-considered hypothesis; and their conceptions were rendered more obscure by their imperfect acquaintance with one of the most important aids to understanding the movement of the sap, namely the structure of the more delicate parts of the plant, the knowledge of which had not advanced since the days of Malpighi and Grew. Since most of them made no phytotomical investigations of their own, and only partially understood the descriptions of those writers, they had to be content with misty and often quite inaccurate ideas of the inner structure of wood and bark, and yet expected to obtain an insight into the movement of the sap in them. In reading the writings of Malpighi, Grew, Mariotte, Hales and even Wolff, notwithstanding many mistakes in details we find a pleasure in the connected reasoning, and in the sagacity which knew how to distinguish between what was important and what was not; whereas the observers, whom we have now to mention, give us only isolated statements, nor have we the satisfaction of feeling that we are conversing with men of superior understanding.
We may pass over the unimportant writings of Friedrich Walther (1740), Anton Wilhelm Platz (1751) and Rudolph Böhmer (1753), as merely barren exercises; but some notice should be taken of those of De la Baisse and Reichel, since these authors at least endeavoured to bring to light something new. But the method which they employed of making living plants suck up coloured fluids was calculated to give rise to serious errors both at the time and afterwards. Magnol had mentioned experiments of the kind in 1709, and the Jesuit father Sarrabat, known by the name of De La Baisse, occupied himself with them and described them in a treatise, ‘Sur la circulation de la sêve des plantes,’ 1733, which received a prize from the academy of Bordeaux[125]. He set the roots of different plants in the red juice of the fruit of Phytolacca, and found that in two or three days the whole of the bark of the roots and especially the tips of the root-fibres were coloured red inside. It was a natural conclusion at that time, that it was these parts which chiefly absorbed the red colouring matter, and in fact this opinion was maintained till quite recent times, and it was on such results that Pyrame de Candolle founded his theory of the spongioles of the root, which is still accepted in France. At present it is known, that the bark and especially the youngest tips of the fibres of the root are not coloured under these circumstances, until they have been first poisoned and killed by the colouring matter; these experiments therefore, which have been frequently repeated since De la Baisse’s time, prove nothing respecting the action of living roots, but they were from the first the cause of a pernicious error in vegetable physiology, which as we shall see gave rise to others also. One result however of De la Baisse’s experiments was less misleading; he placed the cut ends of branches of woody plants in the coloured fluid, and found that not only the general body of the wood, but the woody bundles which pass from it into the leaves and parts of the flowers, were coloured red, while the succulent tissue of the bark and leaves remained uncoloured. It appeared therefore that the red juice passed only through the wood, and a somewhat bold analogy might lead to the further conclusion that this is true also of the nutrient substances dissolved in the watery sap; but the view so stated is not at present considered to be correct, and that the sap which ascends from the roots to the leaves, the water especially, is conveyed through the wood only, and not through the rind, had been already sufficiently proved by the experiments of Hales and others. The uncritical treatment of experiments of this kind by Georg Christian Reichel[126] afterwards led to new errors, though his dissertation, ‘De vasis plantarum spiralibus,’ shows to advantage by the side of similar productions of the day owing to its careful notices of the literature, and the author’s original researches in phytotomy. Reichel was not satisfied with the arguments of Malpighi, Nieuwentyt, Wolff, Thümmig and Hales for the view that the vessels of the wood contain air. He observed quite correctly, that if branches are cut off from woody and herbaceous plants and the cut surfaces are placed in red decoction of brazil-wood, the red colouring matter spreads through all the vascular bundles, even those of the flowers and fruit; but on examination with the microscope he found the red fluid to some extent in the cavities of the vessels, and hastily concluded that they too in the natural condition convey sap and not air. His description and his drawing show however, that only some vessels had received any of the red fluid and that none of these were filled with it. Reichel and the many who repeated his statements forgot to ask whether the vessels had contained air or fluid before the experiment, or whether the result would have been the same, if plants with uninjured and living roots had absorbed the coloured fluid, and no divided vessels had therefore come in contact with it. There was no reason why observers of that day should not have been alive to the simple consideration, that the vessels of a branch parted from the stem and placed in a fluid must necessarily show the capillary action of narrow glass tubes if they are filled with air in their natural condition, and that in the experiment the transpiration of the leaves must favour the ascent of the red juice in the cavities of the vessels, as was to be gathered from other and better experiments made by Hales. But these obvious reflections were not made; the supposed results of the experiment were heedlessly accepted, and the unfounded notion, that vessels are natural sap-conducting organs, was set up in opposition to the trustworthy decision of Malpighi and Grew, that they convey air. Thus on the strength of badly interpreted experiments one of the most important of physiological discoveries was called in question, and a hundred years later there were persons, who, relying on the same experiments as Reichel, supposed that the vessels of the wood convey the ascending sap, a view which made it impossible from the first to arrive at any real understanding of the movement of the sap in plants provided with organs of transpiration. But even the other great discovery which we owe to Malpighi, that leaves are organs for elaborating the food, was denied by Bonnet, who substituted for it the utterly false view, that they chiefly serve to absorb rain-water and dew. Bonnet[127], who had previously done good service to insect-biology, and had discovered the asexual propagation of aphides, having injured his eyes in these studies, found an agreeable pastime in a variety of experiments on plants. Much that he did was unimportant, yet he obtained some results, which could afterwards be turned to account by more competent persons, for the weakness of his own judgment is shown even in his more serviceable observations, such as those on the curvature of growing plants. We notice the same defect in his observations on the part played by leaves in the nutrition of the plant. It shows the character of the time that a book like Bonnet’s ‘Recherches sur l’usage des feuilles des plantes,’ a mere accumulation of undigested facts, should have been generally considered an important production. He tells us, that his attention was called by Calandrini to the fact, that the structure of the under side of leaves seems to show that they were intended to absorb ‘the dew that rises from the ground’ and introduce it into the plant. Starting from this sensible suggestion, as he calls it, he proceeded to make a variety of senseless experiments with leaves, which were cut off from their plants, and having been smeared over with oil or other hurtful substances were laid on water, some on their upper some on their under side, the object being to note the time which they took to perish. It is impossible to imagine worse-devised experiments on vegetation; for if Bonnet wished to test Calandrini’s ‘sensible’ conjecture, he ought certainly to have left the leaves on the living plants and have observed the effect of the supposed absorption of dew on the vegetation. It is to be observed, that by rising dew he evidently meant aqueous vapour, for the real dew descends chiefly on the upper side of the leaf; and what could he have expected to learn by laying cut leaves on water? how could this prove that leaves absorb dew? Nevertheless Bonnet came to the conclusion that the most important function of leaves was to absorb dew, and in order to make this result agree with Hales’ investigations on transpiration, he propounded the theory[128], that the sap which rises by day from the roots into the stem is carried by the woody fibres assisted by the air-tubes into the under side of the leaves, where there are many stomata to facilitate its exit (evaporation). At the approach of night, when the leaves and the air in the air-tubes are no longer under the influence of heat, the sap returns to the roots; then the under side of the leaves commences its other function; the dew slowly rising from the earth strikes against it, condenses upon it, and is detained there by the fine hairs and by other contrivances (this really takes place to a much greater extent on the upper side). The fine tubes of the leaves absorb it at once, (this is evidently not so, since the dew increases in quantity till sunrise), and conduct it to the branches, whence it passes into the stem. He thought so highly of this strange theory, that he believed he found in it a teleological explanation of the heliotropic and geotropic curvature of leaves and stems, two things which he did not distinguish, and of the position of leaves on the stem. Bonnet’s view of the functions of leaves, foolish as it is, is historically important and therefore required to be noticed, because it was really accepted during many years in preference to the older and better ideas, and because it shows how the power of judging of such matters had fallen off since Malpighi’s time. It appears to have been the praise lavished on Bonnet by his contemporaries that made later physiologists, who might have known better, take him for an authority on the nutrition of plants. His experiments on the growth of plants in another material than earth are if possible more worthless than those with cut leaves. Here too the idea was not his own; for hearing that land-plants had been grown in Berlin in moss instead of earth, he made numerous experiments of the kind, and found that many plants grow vigorously in this way, and bloom and bear seed. But the theory of nutrition gained nothing by these experiments, which were only a childish amusement. The few pages which Malpighi wrote on the nutrition of plants are worth more than all Bonnet’s book on the use of leaves; the former by the help of some simple considerations and conclusions from analogy really discovered the use of leaves; Bonnet on the faith of many unmeaning experiments ascribed to them another function than the true one.
We are unable to pass a much more favourable judgment on the views respecting the nutrition of plants of another writer, who otherwise did good service to vegetable physiology, and to whom we shall return in our last chapter. It is true that Du Hamel[129], of whom we speak, was not an investigator of nature, as were Malpighi, Mariotte or Hales; compared with those great thinkers he was only a compiler, and a somewhat uncritical one. But he was not a dilettante in science, like Bonnet; he made the vegetable world the subject of serious and diligent study, and he endeavoured to turn the results of that study to practical account. Long familiarity with plants gave him a kind of instinct for the truth in dealing with them, as is shown in his observations and experiments, many of which are still instructive; but he had neither that faculty of combination which can alone bring a meaning out of experiments and observations in physiological investigations, nor the power to distinguish between matters of fundamental and secondary importance. So thinks also his biographer Du Petit-Thonars.
The merits and the faults here mentioned are combined in an especial degree in Du Hamel’s most famous work, ‘Physique des arbres,’ which appeared in two volumes in 1758 and is a text-book of vegetable anatomy and physiology with numerous plates. His remarks on the nutrition of plants and the movement of the sap are a lengthy compilation chiefly from Malpighi, Mariotte and Hales, though he has not succeeded in appropriating exactly that which is theoretically important or adopting the most commanding points of view. He introduces the results of his own experiments into his account, and these are often instructive in themselves, but are never made use of to establish a definite view with respect to the connection between the processes of nutrition. He hits upon the right view only when he is dealing with plain and obvious matters; for instance, he restores the vessels of the wood to their old rights, and concludes from experiments, as had been already done in the 17th century, that an elaborated sap moves in the reverse direction in the rind; so too he perceives that if bulbs, tubers, and roots, with or without the help of water which they have absorbed, produce shoots and even flowers, this must be done at the expense of material laid up in reserve, but he does not turn this fact to any further account. But he utterly spoilt the best part of his subject; he made the leaves nothing but pumps that suck up the sap from the roots; he quotes Malpighi’s better view as a curiosity, and never mentions it again; but he accepts Bonnet’s unfortunate theory, though he himself adduces many facts, which make for Malpighi’s interpretation of the leaves. He is almost more unsuccessful with chemical points in nutrition; he repeats Mariotte’s statements with regard to the necessity of a chemical change in the nutrient substances in the plant, and even supplies further proof of it; but he cannot shake off the Aristotelian dogma, that the earth like an animal stomach elaborates the food of plants, and that the roots absorb the elaborated matter like chyle-vessels (II. pp. 189, 230). He concludes from his own attempts to grow land-plants without earth and in ordinary water that the latter supplies the plant with very little matter in solution, but he makes no use of Hales’ statements with regard to the co-operation of the air in the building up of the plant, and ends by saying (II. p. 204) that he only wished to prove that the purest and simplest water can supply plants with their food, which his experiments do not prove. Thus almost all that Du Hamel says on the nutrition of plants is a mixture of right observations in detail with wrong conclusions, and reflections which never rise above the individual facts and give no account of the connection of the whole. These faults appear in a still higher degree in a later and almost more comprehensive work, the ‘Traité théorique et pratique de la végétation’ of Mustel (1781). The further the distance from the founders of vegetable physiology, the larger were the books that were written on the subject; but the thread that held the single facts together became thinner and thinner, till at last it broke. The theory of nutrition, like a forced plant, needed light that it might recover strength. This light came with the discoveries of Ingen-Houss, and with the mighty strides made by chemistry after 1760 in the hands of Lavoisier.
The two cardinal points in the doctrine of the nutrition of plants, namely that the leaves are the organs which elaborate the food, and that a large part of the substance of the plant is derived from the atmosphere, were established, as we have seen, by Malpighi and Hales, and employed by them in framing their theory; it remained to supply a direct and tangible proof of the fact that the green leaves take up a constituent of the atmosphere and apply it to purposes of nutrition. It was evidently the want of such direct proof which caused the successors of the first great physiologists to overlook the importance of the propositions thus obtained by deduction, and so to grope their way in the dark with no principle to guide them.
The discoveries of Priestley, Ingen-Houss and Senebier, and the quantitative determinations of de Saussure in the years between 1774 and 1804, supplied the proof that the green parts of plants, and the leaves therefore especially, take up and decompose a constituent of the air, while they at the same time assimilate the constituents of water and increase in weight in a corresponding degree; but that this process only goes on copiously and in the normal way, when small quantities of mineral matter are introduced at the same time into the plant through the roots. The discoveries and facts, from which this doctrine proceeded, were those which overthrew the theory of the phlogiston, and from which Lavoisier deduced the principles of modern chemistry; the new theory of the nutrition of plants was indeed directly due to Lavoisier’s doctrines, and it is necessary therefore to take at least a hasty glance at the revolution which was effected in chemistry between 1770 and 1790. It is a well-known fact[130] that this revolution dates from the discovery of oxygen-gas by Priestley in 1774. Priestley himself was and continued to be a stubborn adherent of the phlogiston; but his discovery was made by Lavoisier the basis of an entirely new view of chemical processes. By the combustion of charcoal and the diamond, Lavoisier proved as early as 1776 that ‘fixed air’ was a compound of carbon and ‘vital air.’ In like manner phosphoric acid, sulphuric acid and, after a preliminary discovery by Cavendish, nitric acid also were found to be compounds of phosphorus, sulphur and nitrogen with vital air; in 1777 Lavoisier showed that fixed air and water are produced by the combustion of organic substances, and after establishing within certain limits the quantitative composition of fixed air, he named it carbonic acid, and the gas which had up to that time been known as vital air he called oxygen. Cavendish in 1783 obtained water by the combustion of hydrogen-gas, and then Lavoisier proved that water is a compound of hydrogen and oxygen. These discoveries not only did away step by step with the old theory of the phlogiston, and supplied the principles of modern chemistry, but they also affected exactly those substances which play the most important part in the nutrition of plants; every one of these discoveries in chemistry could at once be turned to account in physiology. In 1779 Priestley discovered that the green parts of plants occasionally exhale oxygen, and in the same year Ingen-Houss described some fuller investigations, which showed that this only takes place under the influence of light, and that the green parts of plants give off carbon dioxide in the dark, as those parts which are not green do both in the light and the dark. A correct interpretation of these facts was not however possible in 1779; it was not till 1785 that Lavoisier succeeded in setting himself quite free from the old notions, and developed his antiphlogistic system into a connected whole. It should be mentioned that he had discovered in 1777 that the respiration of animals is a process of oxidation which produces their internal heat, heat being the product of every form of combustion. This fact was equally important for vegetable physiology, but it was some time before it was used to explain the life of plants.
The establishment of the fact, that parts of plants give off oxygen under certain circumstances, did little or nothing to further the theory of their nutrition[131]; and that was all that vegetable physiology owes to Priestley. Ingen-Houss on the other hand determined the conditions under which oxygen is given off, and further showed that all parts of plants are constantly giving rise to carbon dioxide; on these facts rests the modern theory of the nutrition and respiration of plants, and we must therefore consider that Ingen-Houss was the founder of that theory. But since we are dealing here with a discovery of more than ordinary importance, it seems necessary to go more closely into the details.
A work of Priestley’s appeared in 1779, which was translated into German in the following year under the title, ‘Versuche und Beobachtungen über verschiedene Theile der Naturlehre,’ and contained among other things the writer’s experiments on plants. His way of managing them was eminently unsuitable, nor did he arrive at any definite and important result, though he expressed the idea which had led him to make them clearly enough, where he says, ‘If the air exhaled by the plant is of better character (richer in oxygen) than atmospheric air, it follows that the phlogiston of the air is retained in the plant and used there for its nourishment, while the part which escapes, being deprived of its phlogiston, necessarily attains a higher degree of purity.’ After he had ceased his experiments with plants in 1778, he observed that there was a deposit of matter in the water in some vessels which he had used for them, and that it gave off a very ‘pure air’; a number of further observations taught him that this air was given off only under the influence of sun-light; Priestley himself did not suspect that the deposit in question, afterwards known as Priestley’s matter and found to consist of Algae, was a vegetable substance.
In the same year (1779) appeared the first book by Ingen-Houss[132], in which the subject was treated at length; it was called, ‘Experiments on Vegetables, discovering their great power of purifying the common air in the sunshine and of injuring it in the shade and at night,’ and was at once translated into German, Dutch and French. The title itself shows that the author had observed more and more correctly than Priestley. But he did not come to an understanding of the inner connection of the facts, till Lavoisier completed his new antiphlogistic theory. He says himself in his essay, ‘On the nutrition of plants and the fruitfulness of the earth,’ which appeared in 1796, and was translated into German with an introduction by A. v. Humboldt in 1798, that when he published his discoveries in 1779, the new system of chemistry was not yet fully declared, and that without its aid he had been unable to deduce the true theory from the facts; but that since the composition of water and air had been discovered, it had become much easier to explain the phenomena of vegetation. But in order to establish his priority he says on p. 56, that he had been fortunate enough to find out the real cause why plants at certain times vitiate the surrounding air, a cause which neither Priestley nor Scheele had suspected. He had discovered, he says, in the summer of 1779, that all vegetables incessantly give out carbonic acid gas, but that the green leaves and shoots only exhale oxygen in sun-light or clear daylight. It appears therefore that Ingen-Houss not only discovered the assimilation of carbon and the true respiration of plants, but also kept the conditions and the meaning of the two phenomena distinct from one another. Accordingly he had a clear idea of the great distinction between the nutrition of germinating plants and of older green ones, the independence of the one, the dependence of the other, on light; and that he considered the carbon dioxide of the atmosphere to be the main if not the only source of the carbon in the plant, is shown by his remark on a foolish assertion of Hassenfratz that the carbon is taken from the earth by the roots; he replied that it was scarcely conceivable that a large tree should in that case find its food for hundreds of years in the same spot. There was a certain boldness in these utterances of Ingen-Houss, and a considerable confidence in his own convictions, for at that time the absolute amount of carbon dioxide in the air had not been ascertained, and the small quantity of it in proportion to the other constituents of air would certainly have deterred some persons from seeing in it the supply of the huge masses of carbon which plants accumulate in their structures.
Before Ingen-Houss in the work last mentioned explained the results of his observations of 1779 in accordance with the new chemical views, and laid the foundations of the doctrine of nutrition in plants, Jean Senebier[133], of Geneva, made protracted researches into the influence of light on vegetation (1782-1788), and founded on their results a theory of nutrition, which he published in 1800 in a tediously prolix work in five volumes entitled, ‘Physiologie végétale.’ In this work some valuable matter was concealed in a host of unimportant details and tiresome displays of rhetoric, which for the most part are beside the question. But it must be acknowledged that Senebier was better provided with chemical knowledge than Ingen-Houss, and that he brought together all the scattered facts that the chemical literature of the day offered, in order to obtain a more complete representation of the processes of nutrition. It was of especial importance at that time to insist on the principle that the processes of nutrition within the plant must be judged by the general laws of chemistry; organised beings, said Senebier, are the stage, on which the affinities of the constituents of earth, water, and air mutually influence each other; the decompositions however are generally the result of the influence of light, which separates the oxygen of the carbon dioxide in the green parts of plants. He insists (II. p. 304) upon this among other facts, that the simple constituents of all plants are the same, and the differences are only quantitative. He then brings before us the simple and compound constituents of plants one after the other, and among them light and heat figure as material substances, in accordance with the view of the time. He treats at great length the old question of the meaning of the salts in the plant, and it is instructive to observe how he tries to decide whether the nitrates, sulphates and ammonia, which are found in the sap of plants, are introduced from without, or are formed in them from their constituent elements; he concludes finally that the former is the more probable opinion. That the greater part at least of the carbon of plants comes from the atmosphere could scarcely be a matter of doubt with those who knew the writings of Ingen-Houss; but Senebier devotes special attention to this question; he endeavours to take all the co-operating factors into the calculation, and especially to prove once more that the oxygen given off from the plant in light comes from the carbon dioxide which has been absorbed, that the green parts only and no others are able to effect this decomposition, and that there is a sufficiency of carbon dioxide in nature to supply the food of plants. But although he convinced himself that green leaves decompose the carbon dioxide which surrounds them in a gaseous form, he supposed that it is chiefly through the roots that this substance finds its way with the ascending sap into the leaves, and this view often gave occasion to further error in later writers.
The tedious prolixity of Senebier’s book was one reason why it never enjoyed the measure of appreciation and influence which it deserved; but it was also thrown into the shade by the appearance of a work of superior excellence, distinguished at once by the importance of its contents, by condensation of style, and by perspicuity of thought. This work was the ‘Recherches chimiques sur la végétation’ of Théodore de Saussure[134] (1804), which contained new observations and new results, and what was still more important, a new method. Saussure adopted for the most part the quantitative mode of dealing with questions of nutrition; and as the questions which he put were thus rendered more definite, and his experiments were conducted in a most masterly manner, he succeeded in obtaining definite answers. He knew how to manage his experiments in such a manner that the results were sure to speak plainly for themselves; they had not to be brought out by laborious calculation from those small and, as they are called, exact data, which less skilful experimenters use to hide their own uncertainty. The directness and brevity with which precise quantitative results are expressed, the close reasoning and transparent clearness of thought, impart to the reader of de Saussure’s works a feeling of confidence and security such as he receives from scarcely any other writer on these subjects from the time of Hales to our own. The ‘Recherches chimiques’ have this in common with Hales’ ‘Statical Essays,’ that the statements of facts which they contain have been made use of again and again by later writers for theoretical purposes, while the theoretical connexion between them was constantly overlooked, as we shall have reason to learn in the following section. It is not every one who can follow a work like this, which is no connected didactic exposition of the theory of nutrition, but a series of experimental results which group themselves round the great questions of the subject, while the theoretical connection is indicated in short introductions and recapitulations, and it is left to the reader to form his own convictions by careful study of all the details. It was not de Saussure’s intention to teach the science, but to lay its foundations; not to communicate facts, but to establish them; the style therefore, as might be expected, is dry and unattractive; the writer seems to confine himself too anxiously within the limits of what is given in experience, and there is no doubt that many errors in later times might have been avoided if the inductive proof of de Saussure’s doctrines had been accompanied with a deductive exposition of them of a more didactic character.
The processes of vegetation examined by de Saussure were, for the most part, the same as those which Ingen-Houss and Senebier had studied at length and correctly described in their general outlines. But de Saussure went beyond this, and by means of quantitative determinations struck a balance between the amount of matter taken up and given off by the plant, thereby showing what it retains. In this way he made two great discoveries: that the elements of water are fixed in the plant at the same time as the carbon, and that there is no normal nutrition of the plant without the introduction of nitrates and mineral matter. But we cannot form a due idea of de Saussure’s services to physiology without going further into the detail of his work.
We will first consider his investigations respecting the assimilation of carbon in plants. Here we have the important result, that larger quantities of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere surrounding the plants are only favourable to vegetation if the latter are in a condition to decompose them, that is, if they are in sufficiently strong light; that every increase in the amount of carbon dioxide in the air in shade or in darkness is unfavourable to vegetation, and that if that increase is greater than eight times in the hundred it is absolutely injurious. On the other hand he found, that the decomposition of carbon dioxide by the green parts in light is an occupation that is necessary to them, that plants die when they are deprived of it. The first clear insight into the chemical processes which accompany the decomposition of carbon dioxide in the interior of the plant was obtained by perceiving, that plants by appropriating a definite quantity of carbon make a much more than proportionate addition to their dry substance, and that this is due to the simultaneous fixation of the component parts of water. The full significance of this fact could only be apprehended at a later time, when the theory of the combinations of carbon, organic chemistry, had been further developed. As regards the importance of the decomposition of carbon dioxide by the green organs under the influence of light to the whole nourishment of the plant, de Saussure arrived by more definite proofs than Ingen-Houss had given at the result, that only a small portion of the substance of plants is derived from the constituents of the soil in solution in water, but that the great mass of the vegetable body is built up from the carbon dioxide of the atmosphere and the constituents of water; he convinced himself of this partly by considering the small quantities of matter which the water is able to dissolve from a soil capable of sustaining vegetation, partly by experiments in vegetation and considerations of a more general character.
Not less important were de Saussure’s investigations into oxygen-respiration by plants, which taken simply as a fact, had been previously discovered by Ingen-Houss. But de Saussure showed that growth is impossible without this process of respiration, even in germinating plants, though these are rich in assimilated matter. He further showed that green leaves and opening flowers, and generally the parts of plants which are distinguished by greater activity of vital processes, require more oxygen for respiration than those in a less active and resting state. He determined the loss of weight which the organic substance of germinating plants suffers from respiration, and found it to be greater than was proportionate to the weight of carbon exhaled; but the chemical science of his day did not supply him with a certain explanation of this fact. Lastly, de Saussure at a later time (1822) discovered the chief relations between the internal heat of flowers and their consumption of oxygen, and thus we see that he supplied the most important elements in the modern theory of the respiration of plants, though he did not fully explain their mutual connection.
It evidently was the received opinion before the time of Ingen-Houss, and in spite of Hales’ views, that plants derive the larger part of their food from the constituents of earth and water. But when it became known that the carbon, which is the chief constituent of vegetable substance, comes from the atmosphere, and it was considered that much the larger part of that substance is combustible, it naturally became a question whether the incombustible ingredients which form the ash take any part in the nutrition of plants. This question was by many physiologists answered in the negative; but de Saussure maintained the contrary view. He insisted that certain ingredients, which are found in the ash of all plants, must not be regarded as accidental admixtures, and that the small quantities in which they occur are no proof that they are not indispensable; and he showed from a large number of analyses of vegetable ash, which for a long time were unsurpassed in excellence, that there are certain relations between the presence of certain substances in the ash and the condition of development of the organs of the plant; for instance, he found that young parts of plants capable of development were rich in alkalies and phosphoric acid, while older and inactive portions were richest in lime and silicic acid. Still more important were the experiments in vegetation, by which he showed that plants, whose roots grow not in earth but in distilled water, only take up as much ash-constituents as corresponds with the particles of dust which fall into the water; and further, that the increase in the organic combustible substance of a plant so grown is very insignificant, and consequently that there is no normal vegetation where the plant does not take up ash-constituents in sufficient quantity,—a result of the highest importance to the main question. Unfortunately de Saussure neglected to state these results with due emphasis and to point out their fundamental importance, and consequently doubts were entertained even till after 1830 respecting the necessity of the constituents of the ash to vegetation.
It was known in de Saussure’s time that nitrogen entered into the substance of living plants; the question was, whence it was obtained. As it was known that four-fifths of the atmosphere consists of nitrogen, it was natural to suppose that it is this which the plant makes use of for forming its nitrogenous substance. De Saussure endeavoured to settle the question by the volumetric method, which, as was afterwards discovered, was not in this case to be trusted. Nevertheless he arrived at the right conclusion, that plants do not assimilate the nitrogen of the atmosphere; this gas must therefore be taken up by the roots in some form of chemical combination. He made no experiments on growing plants to decide what that form was, but contented himself with the conjecture that vegetable and animal matter in the soil and ammoniacal exhalations from it supply the nitrogen in plants. This question, first ventilated certainly by de Saussure, and afterwards the subject of protracted discussion, was finally settled fifty years later by the experiments of Boussingault.
In connection with his researches into the importance of the constituents of the ash, de Saussure proposed the question whether roots take up the solutions of salts and other substances exactly in the form in which they offer themselves. He found first of all that very various and even poisonous matters are absorbed by them, and that there is therefore no such power of choice, as Jung had once supposed; on the other hand, it appeared that the solutions do not enter unchanged into the roots, for in his experiments in every case the proportion of water to the salt absorbed was greater than the proportion between them in the solution, and that some salts enter the plant in larger, some in smaller quantities, under circumstances in other respects the same. But at this time, and for a long time after, it was not possible to understand and rightly explain these facts; the theory of diffusions was not yet known, and fifty or sixty years were to elapse before light was thrown on the questions thus raised by de Saussure.
Such were the most important contents of de Saussure’s publication in 1804. His later contributions to the knowledge of some important questions in vegetable physiology will be mentioned further on. A comparison of the contents of the ‘Recherches chimiques’ with what was known of the chemistry of the food of plants before 1780 excites the liveliest astonishment at the enormous advance made in these twenty-four years. The latter years of the 18th century had proved still more fruitful, if possible, as regards the theory of nutrition than the latter years of the 17th; both periods have this in common, that they developed an extraordinary abundance of new points of view in every branch of botanical science. They resemble each other also in the circumstance that they were both followed by a longer period of inactivity; the time from Hales to Ingen-Houss was highly unproductive, and so also were the thirty years that followed the appearance of de Saussure’s great work, though it must be admitted that some good work was done during that period in France, while in Germany the new theory was grossly misunderstood by the chief representatives of botany, as we shall see in the following section. It should be mentioned however that one of these misconceptions, which was not removed till after 1860, was caused by de Saussure himself. He had observed that the red leaves of a variety of the garden Orache disengage oxygen from carbon dioxide, as much as the green leaves of the common kind. In this case he was hasty, and concluded from this single observation that the green colour is not an essential character of the parts which decompose carbonic acid; if he had only removed the epidermis of the red leaves he would have found that the inner tissue is coloured as dark green as the ordinary green leaves. He who was usually so extremely careful as an observer was for once negligent, and later writers, as is apt to happen, fixed exactly on this one weak point, and repeatedly called in question one of the most weighty facts of vegetable physiology, namely, that only cells which contain chlorophyll eliminate oxygen.
During the twenty years that followed the appearance of de Saussure’s chemical researches the theory of the nutrition of plants can scarcely be said to have been advanced in any one direction, while much that had already been accomplished was not even understood. Various circumstances worked together to introduce misconceptions in this province of botany; above all others the inclination, more strongly pronounced than ever at this period, to attribute to organisms a special vital principle or force, which was supposed to possess a variety of wonderful powers, so that it could even produce elementary substances, heat, and other things out of nothing. Whenever any process in such organisms was difficult to explain by physical or chemical laws, the vital force was simply called in to bring about the phenomena in question in some inexplicable manner. It was not that the question was now raised, which at a later time engaged the attention of profounder thinkers, whether there was a special agent operating in organic bodies beside the general forces which govern inorganic nature; for a careful examination of this question would certainly have led to the most earnest efforts to explain all the phenomena of life by physical or chemical laws. On the contrary, it was found convenient to assume this vital force as proved, and to assign it as the cause of a variety of phenomena, thus escaping the necessity of explaining the way in which the effects were produced; in a word, the assumption of a vital force was not a hypothesis to stimulate investigation, but a phantom that made all intellectual efforts superfluous.
Another hindrance to the progress of physiology, especially where questions of nutrition turned on the movement of the sap, was the backward condition of the study of the inner structure of plants, as described in the second book. For instance, the question of the descending sap was complicated in the strangest way by Du Petit-Thouars’s theory of bud-roots that descend between the bark and the wood; Reichel’s unfounded idea of the rising of the sap in the tubes of the wood was generally accepted, and a still worse error was maintained by some, that the intercellular spaces of the parenchyma are true sap-conveying organs. In 1812 Moldenhawer had to insist, but without producing any general conviction, that the vessels of the wood contain air, and Treviranus in 1821 that the stomata serve for the entrance and exit of air. We need not notice here what nature-philosophers like Kieser said about nutrition and the movement of the sap; but even those who were far from adopting the extravagancies of this school were incapable of either making use of or carrying on the labours of Ingen-Houss, Senebier, and de Saussure. We may adduce in proof of this statement the remarks of Link on the function of leaves in his ‘Grundlehren der Anatomie und Physiologie,’ 1807. He says at p. 202 that their function is according to Hales transpiration, according to Bonnet absorption, according to Bjerkander the exudation and secretion of a variety of fluids, according to Hedwig the storing up of juices, and inasmuch as leaves increase the green surfaces of plants, bear stomata and hairs, and hold a quantity of juices in their abundant parenchyma, we may ascribe all these functions, but none of them exclusively, to leaves; the only thing peculiar to them is that they convey elaborated juices to the young parts. Their great work, the decomposition of carbon dioxide, he does not mention. But this neglect of the doctrines of Ingen-Houss, Senebier, and de Saussure was common, especially in Germany; it is seen in the efforts made to prove once more the existence of a descending sap in the rind, just as it had been proved in the two previous centuries, by the result of removing a ring of bark from the stem, and by similar experiments; whereas the simple consideration that it is only in the green leaves that carbonaceous vegetable substance is formed, would have made the existence of what was known as a descending sap appear to be a matter of course, and must have led to a much clearer conception of the matter. But this consideration was either quite overlooked or only mentioned incidentally by those who occupied themselves with experiments on the movement of the descending sap. This is the case in Heinrich Cotta’s ‘Naturbeobachtungen über die Bewegung und Function des Saftes in den Gewächsen,’ 1806, in many respects an instructive work, and in Knight’s otherwise serviceable experiments on the growth in thickness of trees. It was not till after 1830 that De Candolle and Dutrochet perceived that the fact that the green leaves are assimilating organs must be decisive of the question of the movement of the sap in the stem.
No progress was made with the general doctrine of nutrition between 1820 and 1840 except in one point, the absorption of oxygen by all parts of plants; here something was done to consolidate the theory and to enrich it with new facts; it was indeed a subject more adapted to the views of the day, because it at once suggested a variety of analogies with the respiration of animals. Grischow showed in 1819 that Fungi never decompose carbon dioxide, but absorb oxygen and give off carbon dioxide. Marcet carried the subject further in 1834, after de Saussure had published in 1822 an excellent investigation into the absorption of oxygen by flowers; in this work we have the basis laid for the theory of vegetable heat, to which we shall return. But Dutrochet was the first who made an elaborate comparison of the respiration of plants and animals (1837), and showed that not only growth, as de Saussure had already perceived, but also the sensitiveness of plants depends on the presence of oxygen, that is on their respiration. The recognition of the fact, that the inhalation of oxygen plays the same part in plants that it does in animals, prepared the way for the view that heat in plants is simply a result of their respiration, as it is in animals. It is not necessary to describe at length the experiments which were made on heat in plants before 1822; they were one and all vitiated by a want of clearness in the statement of the question, which made success impossible; it was assumed that this heat by raising the temperature of the plant would make itself felt by surrounding objects, and it was sought for exactly where it is least to be found, in the wood, in fruits and tubers, and generally in resting, inactive parts. Moreover the previous experiments, collected in Goeppert’s book ‘Ueber die Wärmeentwicklung der Pflanzen,’ 1830, were so unskilfully managed that they could not possibly lead to any result. Nor could the question whether plants really develope internal heat, as animals do, be determined by a few cases of active development of heat in flowers, because an idea was prevalent at the time in connection with the theory of a vital force, that flowers as the organs of reproduction alone possessed the power of generating heat.
Lavoisier had clearly perceived in 1777 that the combustion of substances containing carbon by inhaled oxygen was the source of animal heat, and had proved it by experiments. Senebier, who first observed the rise of temperature in the inflorescence of Arum by the thermometer, had at least suggested in his work on physiology of 1800 (iii. p. 315) that a vigorous absorption of oxygen might be the cause of the phenomenon. Bory de St. Vincent reported in 1804 that Hubert, the owner of a plantation in Madagascar, had observed among other things that the air in which the flowering spike of one of the Aroideae had developed its heat could support neither animal respiration nor combustion. These indications were however disregarded, until de Saussure in 1822 proved directly the connection between the absorption of oxygen and the rise of temperature in flowers. It was however a long time before heat in plants was conceived of as a general fact necessarily connected with their respiration. This conception would have swept away the whole mass of facts accumulated by Goeppert in his book of 1830, from which he tried to prove (p. 228) that plants at no period of their life possess the power of generating heat—a view which he retracted however in 1832, when he had observed a rise of temperature in germinating plants, bulbs, tubers, and in green plants, when collected into heaps. How difficult it was for physiologists under the dominion of the ‘vital force’ to hold firmly to the simple principle of natural heat, and not to be led away by isolated observations, is shown by the expressions of De Candolle in 1835, and still more by those of Treviranus in 1838. It is therefore refreshing to see Meyen in his ‘Neues System’ (1838), vol. ii, warmly asserting this principle, and making the development of heat in plants a necessary consequence of their respiration and of other chemical processes. Meyen himself produced no new observations; but Vrolik and De Vriese showed by laborious experiments in 1836 and 1839 the dependence of the generation of heat in the flowers of Aroideae on the absorption of oxygen. A higher importance as regards the general principle attaches to the attempt of Dutrochet in 1840 to prove that even growing shoots generate small quantities of heat, as shown by a thermo-electric apparatus. Some of the details in these observations are open to objection; but it cannot be denied that they are based on a clear recognition of the general principle, though they ignore the consideration that the generation of heat in plants is not necessarily accompanied with a rise in temperature, since cooling causes may be acting at the same time with greater effect. However the doctrine of the natural heat of plants was in the main established by the observations of de Saussure, Vrolik, De Vriese, and Dutrochet, and by Meyen’s and Dutrochet’s assertion of the principle laid down by Lavoisier, though thirty years elapsed before it became an accepted truth in vegetable physiology.
The crude idea of a vital force was deprived of one of its chief supports when it was recognised that the natural heat of organisms was a product of chemical processes induced by respiration, for this had been regarded since the time of Aristotle as more peculiarly an effect of the principle of life. And now another discovery was made, equally calculated to promote the reference to mechanical principles of those general and important phenomena of life which had hitherto been indolently ascribed to the operation of the vital force. It appears to be a matter of indifference whether Professor Fischer of Breslau is or is not to be considered as the true discoverer of endosmose in 1822, for it is certain that it was Dutrochet[135] who first studied the subject with exactness, and above all perceived its extraordinary value for the explanation of certain phenomena in living organisms. He repeatedly called attention to this value in the years between 1826 and 1837, and endeavoured to refer a variety of phenomena in vegetation to this agency. He had first observed the operation of endosmose in its mechanical effects in living bodies; the escape of the zoospores of an aquatic Fungus and the ejection of the sperm from the spermathecae of snails first led him to the hypothesis, that the more concentrated solutions inclosed in organic membranes exercise an attraction on surrounding water, which, forcing its way into the inclosed space, is there able to exert considerable powers of pressure. To Dutrochet must always belong the merit of having brought into notice this mechanical effect of endosmose and of employing it to explain a number of vital phenomena. Many things in which a mechanical explanation had not been hitherto thought of could now be traced to a mechanical principle, the effects of which could be exhibited and more accurately studied by means of artificial apparatus. Dutrochet rightly attached a special value to the fact, that all states of tension in vegetable tissue could be at once explained by endosmose and exosmose, though, as so often happens in such matters, he may have extended his new principle to cases where it was not applicable, as we shall see below. His account of the nature of endosmose itself must now be considered to be obsolete, nor did the mathematician Poisson or the physicist Magnus about 1830 succeed in framing a satisfactory theory on the subject. It was discovered in the course of the succeeding twenty or thirty years, that the phenomena observed by Dutrochet, and which he called endosmose and exosmose, were only complicated cases of hydro-diffusion, which with the diffusion of gas forms an important part of molecular physics. Dutrochet, like his immediate successors, conducted his investigations into osmose with animal and vegetable membranes, the latter being of a complex structure; with these he always observed in addition to the endosmotic flow of water into the more concentrated solution, an escape of the solution itself, and from this he concluded that there must always be two currents in opposite directions through the membrane which separates the two fluids, that, as he expresses it, the endosmose is always accompanied with exosmose. This error, which was even developed later into a theory of the endosmotic equivalent, has had much to do till recently with making it impossible or difficult to refer certain phenomena of vegetation to the processes of hydro-diffusion. To mention only one case, Schleiden rightly observed that if endosmose, as Dutrochet understood it, is the sole cause why water is absorbed by the roots, there must also be a corresponding exosmose at the roots; and this, which was called root-discharge, Macaire Prinsep thought he had actually discovered, and even Liebig firmly believed in its existence till a recent period, although the researches of Wiegman and Polstorff (1842) and later more careful investigations showed, that there was no noticeable discharge by exosmose to answer to the great quantity of water with substances in solution in it which is taken up by the roots. Again, Dutrochet’s theory of endosmose did not fully explain the way in which the several substances which feed the plant find their way into and are disseminated in it. But notwithstanding these and other defects it deserved the greatest consideration, because it gave the first impulse to the further development of the theory of diffusion, and contained a mechanical principle which might serve to explain very various phenomena in vegetation as yet unexplained. Dutrochet hastened to apply it to this purpose, where it was at all possible to do so, and chiefly in his treatise on the ascending and descending sap (‘Mémoires,’ 1837, i. p. 365), which was superior to anything which had been written on the movement of the sap in plants in its clear conception of the question and in perspicuity of treatment. It should be especially mentioned that Dutrochet formed a true estimate of the functions of the leaves as regards both the ascending and descending sap, and to some extent pointed out the fault which lies at the bottom of the earlier experiments with coloured fluids. After communicating a number of good observations on the paths of the ascending and descending sap, and noticing particularly that in the vine the vessels of the wood serve for the movement of the sap only in spring, when vines bleed, but that they are air-passages in summer, when transpiration causes the most copious flow of water in the wood, he proceeds to consider the forces which effect the movement of the ascending sap in the wood both in spring and summer. He first of all judiciously distinguishes two things which had been before always mixed up together, the weeping of severed root-stocks and the rise of the sap in the wood in transpiring plants. The first is caused, he thinks, by impulsion, the other by attraction; we should now say, that in weeping root-stocks the water is pressed upwards, in transpiring plants drawn up. He then refers the phenomenon of impulsion to endosmose in the roots, and without going much into detail as regards the anatomical conditions, he compares a weeping root-stock to his own endosmometer, in the tube of which the fluid that has been sucked in rises by endosmose and even flows over; it is true that no very thorough understanding of the matter was gained in this way, but at any rate the principle which was to explain it was indicated. He then endeavours to explain the movement of the water which ascends in the wood of transpiring plants by the action of endosmose from cell to cell. In this he failed entirely, as was afterwards perceived; but he succeeded in showing that all the mechanical explanations that had been previously attempted were incorrect, and the whole treatise, though unsatisfactory in its main result, contains a great number of ingenious experiments and acute remarks.
With the exception of Théodore de Saussure, who occupied himself exclusively with chemical questions in physiology, Dutrochet was the only vegetable physiologist in the period between 1820 and 1840 who studied all its more important questions thoroughly and experimentally; his treatise on the respiration of plants, which has been already mentioned, is excellent in itself, and was of the greatest importance at the time it appeared, because it brought the chemical processes in respiration, the entrance and exit of the gases, for the first time into correct connection with the air-passages in the plant, with the stomata, the vessels, and the intercellular spaces, and submitted the composition of the air contained in the cavities of plants to careful examination. It was the best work on the respiration of plants in the year 1837 and for a long time after; and if Dutrochet made the mistake of regarding the oxygen which is disengaged from the plant itself in the light as the chief agent in respiration, and the oxygen directly absorbed from the atmosphere as only subsidiary to this, he compensated for it by recognising the importance of the fact, that only cells which contain chlorophyll decompose carbon dioxide, and still more by correctly distinguishing between respiration by the absorption of oxygen and the decomposition of carbonic dioxide in light; these two processes were at that time and afterwards very inappropriately distinguished as the diurnal and nocturnal respiration of plants, and this misleading expression maintained itself in spite of Garreau’s protest in 1851 till after 1860, when a modern German physiologist succeeded in establishing the true distinction between respiration and assimilation in plants. Another mischievous complication arose about 1830 connected with the expression, circulation of the sap; it was thought that an argument for such a circulation even in the higher plants was to be found in the ‘circulation of the sap’ (protoplasm) in the cells of the Characeae, which had been detected by Corti and more exactly described by Amici; Dutrochet (Mémoires, I. p. 431) exposed this confusion of ideas, and has the merit of refuting at the same time the absurd theory of the ‘circulation of the vital sap,’ for which Schultz-Schultzenstein had received a prize from the Academy of Paris.
We shall recur in the next chapter to Dutrochet’s minute investigations into the movements connected with irritability in plants, which he also endeavoured to refer to endosmotic changes in the turgidity of the tissues, but he did not do justice to the anatomical conditions of the problem. And here we may take occasion to remark, that Dutrochet’s works were often undervalued, especially in Germany, greatly to the detriment of vegetable physiology. His younger German contemporaries, von Mohl and Schleiden, and at a later time Hofmeister, were right in pointing out what was erroneous and sometimes arbitrary in his mechanical explanations of various movements in plants, and it cannot be denied that he was sometimes led into obscure and doubtful views, as for instance when without any apparent connection he regarded the inhalation of oxygen as a mechanical condition of the rising of the sap and also of heliotropic curvatures, and that his attempts at explanation were not seldom forced and improbable; but all this does not prevent it from being true, that an attentive reader will still gain much instruction from his physiological writings and be excited by them to examine for himself. Dutrochet was a decidedly able man and an independent thinker, who it is true was often led astray by his prejudices, but at the same time manfully protested against the old traditional way of dealing with physiological ideas, and substituted careful examination both of his own and others’ investigations for the accumulation and comfortable retailing of isolated observations which was then the fashion. After de Saussure’s ‘Recherches chimiques’ Dutrochet’s ‘Mémoires pour servir a l’histoire anatomique et physiologique des végétaux et des animaux,’ 1837, are without doubt the best production, which physiological literature has to show in the long period from 1804 to 1840. If later botanists, instead of dwelling on his faults, had developed with care and judgment all that was really good in his general view of vegetable physiology, this branch of botanical science would not have declined as it did in the interval between 1840 and 1860. We shall discover the greatness of Dutrochet as a vegetable physiologist by comparing his work above-mentioned with the best text-books of the subject of the same time, those of De Candolle, Treviranus, and Meyen; not one of them comes up to Dutrochet’s Mémoires in acuteness or depth.
The three text-books just mentioned contained little or nothing new either in facts or ideas on the subject of the nutrition of plants; all three were rather compilations of what was already known, and differed from each other only in their selection of material and in the form which each sought to give to the general theory; but this is a reason why we should take a nearer look at them, that we may learn how the spirit and tendencies of the time were reflected in vegetable physiology, and made themselves felt particularly in the theory of nutrition.
De Candolle’s work appeared in French in 1832 in two volumes, the first only being devoted to the subject of the nutrition of plants, and in German in 1833 with many valuable annotations by the translator Roeper, under the title, ‘Pflanzen-physiologie oder Darstellung der Lebenskräfte und Lebensverrichtungen der Gewächsc.’ It suffers, in common with the other two books we have mentioned on the same subject, and with the earlier works of Du Hamel, Mustel, and other writers, from a too discursive mode of treatment, which has the effect of burying the points of fundamental importance under a huge mass of facts and statements from other writers. It contains much that might have been omitted as obsolete, and much empirical material of a purely chemical nature, which could not at that time be applied to the purposes of physiology. Nevertheless, it deserved the great consideration which it enjoyed for a long time, especially in Germany, for its author had undertaken to treat vegetable physiology as a separate and peculiar branch of knowledge, not ignoring at the same time its connection with and dependence on physics, chemistry, phytotomy, and biology proper, and thus to give a full and complete delineation of vegetable life; whereas the best works that had been written since Du Hamel’s time, especially on the nutrition of plants, had proceeded from chemists and physicists or from plant-growers like Knight and Cotta, who treated the subject in a one-sided manner, each from his own point of view, and made no attempt to give a connected account of all the phenomena of vegetation. For this reason De Candolle’s ‘Physiologie végétale’ is the most important performance that appeared after Du Hamel’s ‘Physique des Arbres’; and if we wish to know what progress was made in vegetable physiology generrally, and in the doctrine of nutrition particularly, in the period from 1758 to 1832, we have only to compare the contents of these two books. That this progress was a considerable one, appears plainly from a short summary at the end of the first volume of the general theory of nutrition, as De Candolle himself conceived it; this summary will show us at the same time that he aimed rather at giving a clear account of the whole of the internal economy of the plant, than at searching into the moving forces, the causes and effects. From this he was necessarily withheld by his assumption of a vital force. He distinguished four kinds of forces; the force of attraction which produces the physical, and that of elective affinity which causes the chemical phenomena; then the vital force, the original source of all physiological, and the soul-force, the cause of all psychical phenomena. Only the first three of these forces operate in the plant, and though it is necessary to find out what phenomena in vegetation are due to physical or chemical causes, yet the main task of the vegetable physiologist is to discern those which proceed from the vital force, and the chief mark of such phenomena is that they cease with the death of the plant (p. 6). Of course therefore all the peculiar phenomena of nutrition, which are manifested only in the living plant, come within the domain of the vital force. It must be allowed, however, that De Candolle has made a very moderate use of the vital force, and confines himself wherever he can to physical and chemical explanations; and when he has recourse to the vital force, it is owing less to the influence of his philosophical point of view than to the fact that his account is based rather on tradition and information at second hand than on actual research. It is true that De Candolle was perhaps better acquainted than any contemporary botanist with the physics and chemistry of his day, and it is part of his great merit that he should have acquired so much knowledge on these subjects while engrossed in his splendid labours as a systematist and morphologist; but he betrays, at least in his later years, a want of practice in the study of physics and a want also of the habit of mind which this imparts, and which is more important to the physiologist than a knowledge merely of many facts. But this defect is still more apparent in Treviranus and Meyen, whose works on physiology were published soon after that of the great systematist.
De Candolle first brings together all the facts in physiology which have been discovered from the beginning, not omitting the chemical researches of more modern times into the substance of plants, and then gives a general delineation of the processes of nutrition in the plant: ‘The spongioles (an unfortunate invention of his own which has not yet disappeared from French books, and plays a great part in Liebig’s latest work)—the spongioles of the roots, being actively contractile and aided by the capillarity and hygroscopic qualities of their tissue, suck in the water that surrounds them together with the saline organic or gaseous substances with which it is laden. By the operation of an activity which is manifested principally in the contractility of the cells and perhaps also of the vessels, and is maintained by the hygroscopic character and capillarity of the tissue of the plant and also by the interspaces produced by exspiration of the air and by other causes, the water sucked in by the roots is conducted through the wood and especially in the intercellular passages to the leaf-like parts, being attracted in a vertical direction by the leaves and in a lateral direction by the cellular envelope (cortical parenchyma) at every period of the year, but chiefly in the spring; a considerable part of it is exhaled all day long through the stomata into the outer air in the form of pure water, leaving in the organs in which the evaporation takes place all the saline, and especially all the mineral particles which it contained. The crude sap which reaches the leaf-like parts of the plant there encounters the sun-light, and by it the carbonic acid gas held in solution by the sap, whether derived from the water sucked in by the roots or from the atmospheric air, or being part of that which the oxygen of the air produced with the surplus carbon of the plant, is decomposed in the day-time; the carbon is fixed in the plant and the oxygen discharged as gas into the air. The immediate result of this operation appears to be the formation of a substance which in its simplest and most ordinary state is a kind of gum consisting of one atom of water and one of carbon, and which may be changed with very little alteration into starch, sugar, and lignine, the composition of which is almost the same. The nutrient sap thus produced descends during the night from the leaves to the roots, by way of the rind and the alburnum in Exogens, by way of the wood in Endogens. On its way it falls in with glands or glandular cells, especially in the rind and near the place where it was first formed; these fill themselves with the sap and generate special substances in their interior, most of which are of no use in the nutrition of the plant, but are destined either to be discharged into the outer air or to be conducted to other parts of the tissue. The sap deposits in its course the food-material, which becoming more or less mixed up with the ascending crude sap in the wood, or sucked in with the water which the parenchyma of the rind draws to itself through the medullary rays, is absorbed by the cells and chiefly by the roundish or only slightly elongated cells, and is there further elaborated. This storing up of food-material, which consists chiefly of gum, starch, sugar, perhaps also lignine, and sometimes fatty oil, takes place copiously in organs appointed for the purpose, from which this material is again removed to serve for the nourishment of other organs. The water, which rises from the roots to the leaf-like parts of the plant, reaches them in an almost pure state, if it passes quickly through the woody parts, the molecules of which are but slightly soluble. If, on the other hand, the water flows through parts in which there is much roundish cell-tissue filled with food-material, it moves more slowly and mixes with this material and dissolves it; when it is drawn away from these places by the vital activity of the growing parts, it reaches them not as pure water but charged with nutrient substances. The juices of plants appear to be conveyed chiefly through the intercellular passages. The vessels probably share in certain cases in these functions, but serve generally as air-canals. The cells appear to be the really active organs in nutrition, since decomposition and assimilation of the juices take place in them. Cyclosis (of Schultze’s vital sap[136]) is a phenomenon which appears to be closely connected only with the preparation of the milky juices, and to be caused by the actively contractile nature of the cell-walls or of the tubes. Woody and other substances are deposited in every cell in different quantities according to their kinds and the accompanying circumstances, and clothe their walls; the unequal thickness of the layer so deposited appears according to Hugo von Mohl to have given rise to the supposition of perforated cells; that is, the parts of the cell-wall that remain transparent appear under the microscope as pores. Every cell may be regarded as a body which prepares juices in its interior; but in vascular plants their activity stands in such a connection with a complex of organs, that a single cell does not represent the whole organism, as may be said of the cells of certain cellular plants, which are all like one another. There is no circulation in plants like the circulation in animals, but there is an alternating ascent and descent of the crude sap and of the formative sap which is often mixed with it. Both these phenomena depend perhaps on the contractile power in cells that are still young, and if so, this power would be the true vital energy in plants.‘
What is strange to us in De Candolle’s theory of nutrition is due chiefly to the predominance of the vital force; yet at the same time it gives the facts in their general connection, and its best feature is, that the true function of the leaves, the decomposition of carbon dioxide in light and the production of organisable substance, is made the central point of the whole circle of the processes of nutrition. Very different in this respect were the views of the two most eminent German vegetable physiologists at the close of the period before us, Treviranus and Meyen, though they are not in accord with one another in their general conception of the subject. It may be said that all the prejudices and errors, built up on the foundation of the hypothesis of a vital force during the first thirty years of the 19th century, culminated in Treviranus; while others were already setting up the mechanical explanation of the phenomena of vegetation as the one object to be attained, Treviranus produced once more the whole machinery of the obsolete doctrine of the vital force, and with such effect, that his ‘Physiologie der Gewächse’ was already obsolete when it appeared in 1835. The second volume of Meyen’s ‘Neues System der Pflanzenphysiologie’ was a striking contrast to the work of Treviranus; Meyen endeavours as far as possible to trace back the phenomena of vegetation to mechanical and chemical causes, though he does not often succeed in bringing anything to light that is new or of lasting service. He, like Treviranus, was deficient in sound training in chemistry and physics; they did not stand in this respect, as Hales and Malpighi once did, at the highest point of knowledge of their time. At the same time there was a great difference in the way in which each dealt with the writings of his predecessors; Treviranus, who had done good service in former years in phytotomy, was not equal to the task which he had now undertaken; his physiological expositions are marked by feebleness of thought and by an inability to survey as from a higher ground the connection between the facts; he distrusts all that had been done during the previous thirty years, and almost everywhere appeals to the publications of the 18th century; he lives indeed in the ideas of the past, without gaining vigour from the forcible reasoning and freshness of thought of a Malpighi, a Mariotte, or a Hales. Meyen’s treatment of his subject is on the contrary fresh and vigorous; he does not disregard the old, but he holds chiefly to the modern conquests of science; while Treviranus with singular ill-luck constantly overlooks what is valuable in itself and important in its results, Meyen generally picks out the best things from the books before him; Treviranus timidly avoids expressing any view decidedly and maintaining it; Meyen, amid the multiplicity of the labours which we have already described, finds no time to arrange his thoughts, is hasty in judgment and often contradicts himself. But with all these defects, he is still the champion of the new tendencies that were being developed, while Treviranus lives entirely in the past, and shows no trace of the actively creative spirit which was soon to burst forth so mightily in every branch of natural science.