The purpose of this article is to point out that, contrary to popular belief, David Gregory did not lecture on the Newtonian philosophy when he was Professer of Mathematics at Edinburgh University. This belief has arisen because of a statement of Whiston's which attributes to David a paper written by his younger brother James. Nevertheless, some of David's Edinburgh students were acquainted with Newton's work, and I shall examine the extent to which this was so, and look at the other sources which he used in his teaching. Finally, Gregory's attitudes are seen to be typical of those prevailing in the Scottish universities of his day.

In his presidential address to the Belfast meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science in 1874, John Tyndall launched what David Livingstone has called a ‘frontal assault on teleology and Christian theism’. Using Tyndall's intervention as a starting point, this paper seeks to understand the attitudes of Presbyterians in the north of Ireland to science in the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century. The first section outlines some background, including the attitude of Presbyterians to science in the eighteenth century, the development of educational facilities in Ireland for the training of Presbyterian ministers, and the specific cultural and political circumstances in Ireland that influenced Presbyterian responses to science more generally. The next two sections examine two specific applications by Irish Presbyterians of the term ‘science’: first, the emergence of a distinctive Presbyterian theology of nature and the application of inductive scientific methodology to the study of theology, and second, the Presbyterian conviction that mind had ascendancy over matter which underpinned their commitment to the development of a science of the mind. The final two sections examine, in turn, the relationship between science and an eschatological reading of the signs of the times, and attitudes to Darwinian evolution in the fifteen years between the publication of The Origin of Species in 1859 and Tyndall's speech in 1874.

Early Victorian analogical arguments were used to order the natural and the social world by maintaining a coherent collective experience across cultural oppositions such as the ideal and material, the sacred and profane, theory and fact. Maxwell's use of analogical argument in ‘On Faraday's lines of force’ was a contribution to that broad nineteenth-century discussion which overlapped theology and natural philosophy. I argue here that Maxwell understood his theoretical work as both a technical and a socially meaningful practice and that embedding his use of analogy in the social and intellectual context of Victorian Britain provides a means of telling a sociocultural history of Maxwell's development of a new cognitive tool: a way of thinking on paper analogous to thinking with objects in the laboratory.

Historical accounts of the practice of smallpox inoculation in the late eighteenth century invariably make a distinction between the widespread general inoculations carried out within small rural parishes and the partial inoculations in urban centres such as London, Manchester, Newcastle and Leeds. This distinction, moreover, is generally reinforced by concluding that the rural inoculation programmes were ‘highly effective’ or ‘successful’ in contrast with the urban inoculation schemes, which are often seen as ‘marginally effective’ or indeed ‘failing’. Success or failure tends to be judged by the impact which inoculation had upon reducing mortality from smallpox, but as a result of this demographic focus the motives behind the implementation of urban inoculation have been overlooked. My paper readjusts this balance by looking more closely at motives and by judging success in relation to aims. To achieve this I have taken a new approach towards the history of smallpox inoculation as a whole, and portray the basic idea of giving a person smallpox in order to confer subsequent immunity as being modified in the hands of different people throughout the course of the century. Hence it is possible to trace the development of inoculation from a folk practice carried out within the home with the aim of protecting individuals, to large-scale general inoculations of an entire community, which aimed to eradicate the disease altogether.

Throughout his life, Newton searched for the machinery through which God creates, designs and sustains the world. He believed that the Creator is a God of Dominion who continuously preserves His creation through secondary mechanical causes or through direct, voluntary actions. God periodically intervenes in order to restore the pure and divine state of creation, deteriorated due to material interactions in a natural process of decay. The restoration, whether through matter or through chosen souls, is pure and simple, flowing equably along God's eternal duration. As time passes, a process of decay and corruption causes these pure states to deviate from the original divine path and they gradually begin to flow along distorted and distracted ways. Newton's youthful method of fluxions, though dealing with abstract mathematics, has a crucial role in revealing true knowledge about the God of creation and sustenance. The mathematical method captures and reveals the most fundamental truth about the mechanism of perception and the natural decline of all processes in Nature. This simple method is analogous to the simple creed, which God reinstills throughout history in religious founders and prophets assisting humans to worship God properly.

A purportedly hermaphrodite monkey which was offered to Grand Duke Ferdinando III of Tuscany in 1791 was sent to the Royal Museum of Physics and Natural History for an evaluation. In their investigation, the museum's naturalists encountered a fundamental classificatory problem which made it impossible to decide whether the animal was monstrous or normal – a ‘taxonomist's regress’ which constitutes a special case of finitism as analysed in the Edinburgh school's readings of Wittgenstein. The communication between museum and court shows that in resolving this ambiguity, museum naturalist Giovanni Fabbroni demarcated experts from laypeople and defined state interest by distinguishing between the grand duke's private interests and those of the state. This case thus highlights the role of late Enlightenment absolutism for the creation of modern practices and concepts of expertise in the service of the state.

This article examines the most controversial of the activities of the India Meteorological Department (IMD): long-term seasonal forecasting for the South Asian subcontinent. Under the pressure of recurrent famines, in 1886 the imperial IMD commenced annual issue of monsoon predictions several months in advance, focused on one variable: rainfall. This state service was new to global late nineteenth-century meteorology, attempted first and most rigorously in India. Successive IMD leaders adapted the forecast in light of scientific and infrastructural developments, continuously revising the underlying methods of its production. All methods failed to achieve accurate prevision. Nevertheless, the imperatives of economic administration, empire and public demand compelled IMD scientists to continue annual publication of this unreliable product. This article contends that the seasonal forecast is best understood as an enduring ritual of good governance in a monsoonal environment. Through analysis of newspaper controversies, it suggests that although the seasonal forecast was the most compelling justification for the IMD's imperial and global importance, its limitations undercut popular trust in modern meteorology. Finally, this case illustrates the centrality of ‘tropical meteorology’ to the historical development of modern atmospheric science.

In the last three decades many historians of science have sought to account for the emergence of modern science and technology in sites that did not participate in the shaping of apparently original ideas. They have extensively used a model of the transfer of scientific ideas and practices from centres of scientific activity to a passively receptive periphery. This paper contributes to the discussion of an alternative historiographic approach, one that employs the notion of appropriation to direct attention towards the receptive modes and devices of a local culture. A historiography built around the notion of appropriation deals less with the question of the faithful transfer of scientific ideas than with the particular features of the discourse produced by local scholars as the best way to overcome or conform to the constraints of the receptive culture. The case examined to describe this culturally and intellectually intricate process is the profound transformation undergone by the Newtonian concept of vis inertiae in the work of Eugenios Voulgaris (1716–1806), one of the most important Greek scholars of the eighteenth century.

This paper explores the assimilation of the flightless dodo into early modern natural history. The dodo was first described by Dutch sailors landing on Mauritius in 1598, and became extinct in the 1680s or 1690s. Despite this brief period of encounter, the bird was a popular subject in natural-history works and a range of other genres. The dodo will be used here as a counterexample to the historical narratives of taxonomic crisis and abrupt shifts in natural history caused by exotic creatures coming to Europe. Though this bird had a bizarre form, early modern naturalists integrated the dodo and other flightless birds through several levels of conceptual categorization, including the geographical, morphological and symbolic. Naturalists such as Charles L'Ecluse produced a set of typical descriptive tropes that helped make up the European dodo. These long-lived images were used for a variety of symbolic purposes, demonstrated by the depiction of the Dutch East India enterprise in Willem Piso's 1658 publication. The case of the dodo shows that, far from there being a dramatic shift away from emblematics in the seventeenth century, the implicit symbolic roles attributed to exotic beasts by naturalists constructing them from scant information and specimens remained integral to natural history.

Attempts in antiquity and the Middle Ages to determine the mathematical law of refraction are well known. In view of the movement toward the mathematization of physical laws, which has made great gains since the beginning of the seventeenth century, and of the efforts of Hariot, Kepler, Snell, and Descartes to determine the true mathematical ratio between the angles of incidence and refraction, it is understandable that historians of pre-seventeenth-century science should concentrate on the quantitative aspects of refraction. But to do so is to gain a distorted picture of early optical thought, for as much effort was actually devoted to understanding the cause of refraction as to finding the mathematical law of refraction.

In recent years, historians have come to question earlier Whig interpretations that there was little science or science teaching done at Cambridge University prior to the appointment of Cambridge University Parliamentary Commissions in the 1850's. However, there has been no comprehensive survey of scientific activity at Cambridge in the first half of the nineteenth century. This essay, based upon research which penetrates beneath pedagogical tracts and Whig criticisms (both nineteenth and twentieth century varieties) reveals that Cambridge science professors researched, lectured, gave experimental demonstrations and provided other educational opportunities. Furthermore, it shows that serious attempts to provide research and teaching facilities met with some success and might have met with more if not for the intervention of specific historical incidents compounded by financial problems and the consequences of the upgrading of the core of the Cambridge curriculum. Before the sciences became alternative routes to a Bachelor of Arts Degree and before the appointment of the first University Parliamentary Commissions, Cambridge dons laid the foundations for science at Cambridge in the second half of the century.

In 1837 the German-born astronomer F. G. W. Struve published his famous catalogue of double stars. For Struve this was the culmination of 12 years' detailed observation of a class of celestial objects lying exclusively beyond the solar system; for historians of astronomy it poses the problem of explaining why the study of double stars became a significant part of astronomical endeavour, as it did, during the 1820s and 1830s. For, although Struve's interest was extreme, it was shared to a lesser extent by several eminent contemporaries, including John Herschel, Friedrich Bessel, Johann Encke, James South and Félix Savary. Their combined efforts represented an important transition in astronomy: for the first time one of the emphases of the subject moved beyond the solar system to the so-called fixed stars. The question of the emergence of interest in double stars is of historical significance, therefore, as it is related to the problem of the origins of ‘stellar astronomy’. This essay is thus intended to offer an explanation of astronomers' interest in double stars, and to tackle the related question of whether this transition constituted a major break in the history of astronomy. Furthermore it is proposed that answers to these problems may be found by considering the practice of astronomy dominant during the first half of the nineteenth century. Astronomers in this period were overwhelmingly concerned with a refined form of positional astronomy. The problems they chose to solve were by and large related to the difficulties of the accurate reduction of observational data, and the compilation of reliable tables and star charts, which were then used as a background against which the motions of solar system objects were plotted. By assessing individuals' studies of double stars within this context it can be seen firstly that such studies were no more or less than specific examples of a general case, and secondly that the stars themselves were not usually of intrinsic interest. In general it was the positions of the stars on the

In his discussion of Robert Hooke's geological ideas, David R. Oldroyd has suggested that ‘Hooke's daring cyclic earth theory may have seemed absurd to his contemporaries’. Following Oldroyd's suggestion, A. J. Turner has claimed that it is entirely understandable that Hooke's geological theories had no followers, ‘for, however plausible in themselves, they were quite implausible in the context of seventeenth century knowledge’. Gordon L. Davies has asserted that Hooke was too advanced for his time and that his geological ‘ideas made no impact on his contemporaries’, and Rhoda Rappaport has said that ‘Hooke's geological work made virtually no impression on the writings of his British contemporaries’.

In France, as in other European countries, especially Britain and Germany, the nineteenth century was a period of great progress and achievement in science. This would still have been true if Claude Bernard and Louis Pasteur had been the only outstanding French scientists of the nineteenth century, whereas there were, of course, many others apart from an impressive number of brilliant French mathematicians. Nevertheless, although it was a great century for French science there was perhaps something rather disappointing about it, and something rather ingrowing about the attitude of French scientists towards scientific developments in other countries. For example, the French took it hard that the creator of the theory of evolution should have been an Englishman, remembering too late Darwin's predecessor Lamarck, and they certainly were very slow in accepting Darwin's theory of evolution.1 Again, the French may have felt that after the important contributions of French scientists such as Coulomb, Poisson, Biot and, above all, Ampère, the theory of electricity and magnetism which is today principally associated with the names of Faraday and Maxwell should have been created by a Frenchman. Once again this new theory was only accepted very slowly and hesitantly, and even unwillingly, in France—one thinks, for example, of the criticisms levelled at the theory by Pierre Duhem in his “The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory”.2 Of course it might be that if one knew how to weigh properly the various achievements of French scientists in different branches of science one would find that, allowing for her rather static population during the nineteenth century, the total contribution of France compared well with those of Britain and Germany. Nevertheless, in one case at least, that of theoretical physics, there seems to have been an unmistakable failure to live up to the promise of the beginning of the century. The purpose of this paper is to advance possible reasons to explain this failure.

Often overlooked by historians, specialist gardeners with an expert understanding of both native and exotic plant material were central to the teaching and research activities of university botanic gardens. In this article various interrelationships in the late Georgian period will be examined: between the gardener, the garden, the botanic collection, the medical school and ways of knowing. Foregrounding gardeners’ narratives will shed light on the ways in which botanic material was gathered and utilized for teaching and research purposes, particularly for medical students, as well as highlighting the importance of the garden as a repository of botanic material for the classroom. In this way, the blurred lines between art and science, skill and scholarly activity, and shared pedagogic practices between botany and anatomy will be revealed.

This paper aims to show that the seventeenth-century conception of mechanics as the science of particles in motion founded on universal laws of motion owes much to the employment of a new conceptual resource – the physics of motion developed within optics. The optical analysis of reflection was dynamically interpreted through the mechanical analogy of rebound. The kinematical and dynamical principles so employed became directly applicable to natural phenomena after the eventual transformation of light's ontological status from that of an Aristotelian ‘quality’ to a corpuscular phenomenon, engendered by the rise of atomism during the first half of the seventeenth century. The mechanization of light led to a conceptual shift from the analogical employment of dynamical principles in the physical interpretation of reflection to the mechanical generalization of optical principles – the direct application of kinematical and dynamical principles of reflection to mechanical collisions. This first part of the paper traces out the first conceptual shift from Aristotle's original analogy of reflection as rebound to its full concretization. A second part will trace out the second conceptual shift, from the full concretization of this analogy to the axiomatization of already generalized kinematical and dynamical principles of reflection into laws of nature and of motion.

1831 was a momentous year for Charles Darwin. He passed his BA examination on 22 January, stayed up in Cambridge for two further terms and returned to The Mount, his home in Shrewsbury, in mid-June. On 6 August he left Shrewsbury with Adam Sedgwick for a geological field trip to North Wales, and after his lone traverse over the Harlech Dome returned to The Mount on Monday 29 August to find letters from John Stevens Henslow and George Peacock inviting him to joint HMS Beagle. This geological field trip was crucial for his work on the Beagle. For example, when he began his first geological work of the voyage on Quail Island, he was by that time a competent geologist. Though others have studied the North Wales tour in some detail, there is also another earlier and much briefer episode to consider. Darwin appears to have geologized on his own at Llanymynech in July. The contrast between his first recorded attempts at Llanymynech in July 1831 and then elsewhere in North Wales in August 1831 is most instructive, as his development as a geologist can be followed in his field notes. Retracing his steps today, and comparing his measurements and observations with new ones, throws light on what he might have learnt at different points during that summer.

The early East India Company (EIC) had a profound effect on London, filling the British capital with new things, ideas and people; altering its streets; and introducing exotic plants and animals. Company commodities – from saltpetre to tea to opium – were natural products and the EIC sought throughout the period to understand how to produce and control them. In doing so, the company amassed information, designed experiments and drew on the expertise of people in the settlements and of individuals and institutions in London. Frequent collaborators in London included the Royal Society and the Society of Apothecaries. Seeking success in the settlements and patronage in London, company servants amassed large amounts of data concerning natural objects and artificial practices. Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, company scholars and their supporters in London sought to counter critiques of the EIC by demonstrating the utility to the nation of the objects and ideas they brought home. The EIC transformed itself several times between 1600 and 1800. Nonetheless, throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, its knowledge culture was characterized by reliance on informal networks that linked the settlements with one another and with London.

What was the impact of Lavoisier's new elementary chemical analysis on the conception and practice of chemistry in the vegetable kingdom at the end of the eighteenth century? I examine how this elementary analysis relates both to more traditional plant analysis and to philosophical and mathematical concepts of analysis current in the Enlightenment. Thus I explore the relationship between algebra, Condillac's philosophy and Lavoisier's chemical system, as well as comparing Lavoisier's analytical approach to those of his predecessors, such as Baumé and Bucquet. With reference to the aims of vegetable analysis, I show how the dominance of elementary analysis devalued a tradition that sought to isolate immediate principles (plant extracts), marginalizing the chemical practices of many doctors and pharmacists in the context of the new chemistry in France.