In 1890 the staff of the Dublin Natural History Museum began a comprehensive rearrangement of the collection in their care. Inspired by visits to American museums and motivated by a desire to produce a truly educational display, curators arranged the zoological collection to include cases on the history and geographical distribution of animals. These cases explicitly depicted, in words and specimens, the main arguments of Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species. Placed at a ground-floor entrance to the museum, the cases invited the visitor to examine the remainder of the collection in terms of evolution by natural selection. The exhibit was supplemented by guidebooks and several lecture-demonstrations, which served to further reinforce its messages. Through an analysis of the exhibit's development and contents, this paper will show how these cases reflected not only the status of evolutionary thinking in Ireland, but also the curators' goals for the future development of Irish natural history.

In most of the more lively fields of physical enquiry in the first three decades of the seventeenth century, a striking contrast may be observed between the antiquity of the problems attacked, and the innovatory procedures applied to solve them. None of these questions, inherited from a past now remote, seemed more pressing than the time-honoured controversy of the plenum versus the vacuum, especially as the concept of the atomic structure of matter was so closely associated with the existence of the void. The more one studies the arguments produced at that time, the more one will be impressed with the value and importance, for the vacuists and the atomists, of the Pneumatics of Hero of Alexandria. When we read Galileo's explanation of combustion, “the extremely fine particles of fire, penetrating the narrow pores of the metal (too small to admit even the minutest particles of air or of many other fluids) would fill the minute intervening vacuum, and would set free these minute particles from the forced attraction which these same vacua exert’, we can hear clear echoes of Hero's account of disseminated micro-vacua. Now Hero's work is clearly divided into two sections: a theoretical preface and a collection of 78 “pneumatic devices”. One might be tempted to claim that he, rather than his fellow-atomist Lucretius, inspired the first tentative syntheses of seventeenth-century atomism but it would still be necessary to agree that his chief contributions to the achievements of that generation lie in the experimental techniques which they derived from his instrumentation. Were it not for the popularity of his pneumatic demonstrations, he could never have won such a great reputation as a natural philosopher. Without that reputation, his opinions on this topic would not have been valued as almost equal to those of the mighty Aristotle, especially since he was so decidedly in the minority.

For the historian of thermodynamics, the outstanding events of the eighteenth century were the invention of the Newcomen atmospheric steam engine (1712), the patent of James Watt for a condenser separate from the engine's cylinder (1769), and Watt's further patent for the expansive use of steam (1782). These inventions, along with others concerned with hydraulic machinery, provided Sadi Carnot with the foundation on which he built, in 1824, the first fully general concept of a heat engine.

In two recent articles by Russell and Whiteside, the reception of those particular conclusions of Kepler that have come to be called his laws of planetary motion has been subjected to the first research beyond the pioneering efforts of Delambre at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Independently conceived, and directed towards quite different ends, these two investigations overlapped in only one substantial area—their survey of citations of Kepler's second law by English astronomers between 1650 and 1670. Not surprisingly, they reached essentially identical conclusions about the situation in 1670. Finding ‘equant’ theories instead of the law of areas, wherever he looked, Russell qualified his general claim ‘that the importance of Kepler's ideas during the period [up to 1666] has been greatly underestimated’, to the extent of describing the history of the second law as ‘chequered’ and ‘complicated’. And Whiteside simply reported that Kepler's scheme for reckoning motion in the elliptical orbit ‘was seemingly firmly accepted by no one, and even its formal enunciation but rarely stated in the period’.

In the midsummer of 1872 a lighthouse apparatus was installed in the Clock Tower of the House of Commons. The installation served the practical function of communicating at a distance when the House was sitting, but also provided a highly visible symbolic indication of the importance of lighthouse technology to national concerns. Further, the installation served as an experimental space in which rival technological designs, with corresponding visions for the lighthouse system, could compete in public. This article considers nineteenth-century lighthouse technology as a case study in the power and political significance of display. Manufacturers of lighthouse lenses, such as the firm of Chance Brothers, sought to manage interpretations of the lights through the framing of exhibitions and demonstrations; so too did scientific authorities, including Michael Faraday and John Tyndall, both of whom served in the role of scientific adviser to Trinity House, the body responsible for lighthouse management. Particularly notable in this process was the significance of urban, metropolitan display environments in shaping the development of the marine lighthouse system around the nation's periphery.

During the inter-war years women found employment for the first time in some of Britain's industrial laboratories, most of them concentrated in the food, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, textiles and photographic industries. Drawing on a range of sources, including company archives and the technical press, this paper examines the emergence of these new positions for women and considers their workplace experiences, looking both at women with higher-level qualifications and at those who worked as laboratory assistants. It argues that although the entry of women into industrial chemistry represented an extension of their opportunities for scientific work, they tended to be employed as ‘women chemists’ to undertake routine tasks seen as especially suited to feminine skills and expertise and to have few opportunities for promotion. Their presence also appears to have changed the nature of men's work, helping to ensure that men could continue to be offered more challenging work and positions which retained the possibility of career advancement.

There are a number of miscellaneous jobs which a girl of 16 can secure, some of which give chances of rising. Girls who become laboratory assistants, if they are intelligent and hard working, can rise to positions where they will earn as much as £3 a week…

R. Strachey, Careers and Opportunities for Women (1934)

In industry, and particularly in those industries where a large number of women are employed – such as food, margarine and jam factories – women are not infrequently engaged in analytical and research laboratories…

R. Pilcher, The Profession of Chemistry (3rd edn., 1935)

This article explores British ‘nuclear culture’ by examining how individuals and groups within British government tried to comprehend nuclear weapons after the advent of the hydrogen bomb in 1952. It argues that thinking about nuclear weaponry was not uniform, and there was no monolithic ‘nuclear culture’ in government. Instead, political and social habits interacted with Cold War experience to create views of the nuclear weapon – nuclear cultures – that varied across government to create a diverse, and shifting, set of ideas – nuclear cultures – about what the nuclear weapon meant in British hands, and the role it played in providing military power and political influence.

In 1938, doctors Eric Guttmann and Walter Maclay, two psychiatrists based at the Maudsley Hospital in London, administered the hallucinogenic drug mescaline to a group of artists, asking the participants to record their experiences visually. These artists included the painter Julian Trevelyan, who was associated with the British surrealist movement at this time. Published as ‘Mescaline hallucinations in artists’, the research took place at a crucial time for psychiatry, as the discipline was beginning to edge its way into the scientific arena. Newly established, the Maudsley Hospital received Jewish émigrés from Germany to join its ranks. Sponsored by the Rockefeller Foundation, this group of psychiatrists brought with them an enthusiasm for psychoactive drugs and visual media in the scientific study of psychopathological states. In this case, Guttmann and Maclay enlisted the help of surrealist artists, who were harnessing hallucinogens for their own revolutionary aims. Looking behind the images, particularly how they were produced and their legacy today, tells a story of how these groups cooperated, and how their overlapping ecologies of knowledge and experience coincided in these remarkable inscriptions.

The connections between science and civic culture in the Victorian period have been extensively, and intensively, investigated over the past several decades. Limited attention, however, has been paid to Irish urban contexts. Roman Catholic attitudes towards science in the nineteenth century have also been neglected beyond a rather restricted set of thinkers and topics. This paper is offered as a contribution to addressing these lacunae, and examines in detail the complexities involved in Catholic engagement with science in Victorian Belfast. The political and civic geographies of Catholic involvement in scientific discussions in a divided town are uncovered through an examination of five episodes in the unfolding history of Belfast's intellectual culture. The paper stresses the importance of attending to the particularities of local politics and scientific debate for understanding the complex realities of Catholic appropriations of science in a period and urban context profoundly shaped by competing political and religious factions. It also reflects more generally on how the Belfast story supplements and challenges scholarship on the historical relations between Catholicism and science.

In 1873 the chair of geology at the University of Cambridge fell vacant following the death of Adam Sedgwick. Nine candidates stepped forward, hoping to fill the post. The correspondence generated in the ensuing battle illuminates two areas of particular interest. First, the strategies hidden behind bland lists of successive professors: candidates, peers and patrons manoeuvred to influence the outcome of the competition and competitors tried to reinforce their geological respectability by collecting testimonials from estimable geological acquaintances. Second, the Woodwardian competition inspired some outspoken opinions from British geologists about the relative worth of the candidates, which offer a fresh perspective on the process of professionalization in nineteenth-century science. The applicants came from various backgrounds, including gentlemanly amateurs, clerical geologists, Survey geologists and professors. Judging from the opinions of their peers, it seems that a non-professional or clerical status was rarely of primary concern in defining geological respectability at this time.

William Cullen, lecturer in chemistry at Glasgow and Edinburgh Universities, spent many years formulating his own theory of heat and combustion, the most developed version of which appears in a little-known set of lecture notes of 1765. Cullen's theory is of particular interest to historians of chemistry as an example of his ideal of ‘philosophical chemistry’, an autonomous branch of natural philosophy distinct from the mechanical philosophy, with its own general laws and explanations of phenomena justified by observation. The theory assimilated Joseph Black's recent discovery of fixed air as well as Cullen's investigations of the generation of heat in chemical operations. It was formulated just one year before British chemists' sudden identification of new ‘airs’ was dramatically to change the field of phlogiston theory. The theory differs in important ways from any version yet discussed. It successfully brought both heat and elective attraction within its explanatory domain. It set out a causal hierarchy which reversed the usual pattern evinced in earlier sets of lecture notes, subordinating the mechanical to the chemical in the form of Cullen's theory of elective attraction. The paper argues that Cullen was attempting to bring the study of heat as well as combustion within the bounds of his ‘philosophical chemistry’ by means of his single unifying theory.

The case of Indian meteorite collections shows how, during the production of science, knowledge-making institutions such as museums were sometimes strongly linked with coercive institutions such as the police. If geological collecting in India in the Company period was mainly geared towards satisfying the demands of metropolitan science, the period after the 1850s saw a dramatic shift in the nature of collecting and the practice of colonial science, with the emergence of public museums in India. These colonial museums, represented by the Indian Museum, Calcutta, began to compete with the British Museum for the possession of locally formed collections in an effort to form an exemplary ‘Indian’ scientific collection. This resulted in conflicts which changed the very nature of colonial science. This paper shows how the 1860s marked a break with the past. A new breed of colonial scientist arrived, prepared successfully to challenge the status of the British Museum as the ‘centre of all sciences’ and to defend scientific institutions in the land of their practice, the colony. Rather than being driven by a feeling of scientific dependence or independence, or even the patriotic aspiration to build a national collection in London, it was scientific internationalism backed by the strength of local knowledge that now determined their practice.

One of the most fascinating experiences gained by the meteorological observers of the Correspondentie Sociëteit concerned the practical use of new instruments. In the period after 1775 renewed interest in meteorology had stimulated the development of various new meteorological instruments. These instruments seemed at first to be a welcome addition or improvement in quantitative meteorology. How did the Correspondentie Sociëteit cope with these new developments? What factors determined whether or not the instruments were accepted as a useful addition to instruments already available? Four examples will be used to illustrate how this issue was tackled.

Concluding his discussion of bee reproduction in Book 3 of Generation of Animals, Aristotle makes a famous methodological pronouncement about the relationship between sense perception and theory in natural history. In the very next sentence, he casually remarks that the unique method of reproduction that he finds in bees should not be surprising, since bees have something ‘divine’ about them. Although the methodological pronouncement gets a fair bit of scholarly attention, and although Aristotle's theological commitments in cosmology and metaphysics are well known, scholars have almost universally passed over the comment about bees and divinity in silence. This paper aims to show why that comment is no mere throwaway, and offers an exploration and elaboration of the ways in which divinity operates even at fairly mundane levels in his natural philosophy, as an important Aristotelian explanation for order, proportion and rationality, even in the lowest of animals.

Following the conquest of Algiers and its surrounding territory by the French army in 1830, officers noted an abundance of standing stones in this region of North Africa. Although they attracted considerably less attention among their cohort than more familiar Roman monuments such as triumphal arches and bridges, these prehistoric remains were similar to formations found in Brittany and other parts of France. The first effort to document these remains occurred in 1863, when Laurent-Charles Féraud, a French army interpreter, recorded thousands of dolmens and stone formations south-west of Constantine. Alleging that these constructions were Gallic, Féraud hypothesized the close affinity of the French, who claimed descent from the ancient Gauls, with the early inhabitants of North Africa. After Féraud's claims met with scepticism among many prehistorians, French scholars argued that these remains were constructed by the ancestors of the Berbers (Kabyles in contemporary parlance), whom they hypothesized had been dominated by a blond race of European origin. Using craniometric statistics of human remains found in the vicinity of the standing stones to propose a genealogy of the Kabyles, French administrators in Algeria thereafter suggested that their mixed origins allowed them to adapt more easily than the Arab population to French colonial governance. This case study at the intersection of prehistoric archaeology, ancient history and craniology exposes how genealogical (and racial) classification made signal contributions to French colonial ideology and policy between the 1860s and 1880s.

It is well known that Richard Hakluyt in a publication of 1581 congratulated Sir Walter Ralegh for employing Harriot to teach him and his many sea captains the sciences of navigation. Even more important, however, was the navigational research carried out by Harriot on behalf of Ralegh. He made important theoretical advances in map theory and in navigational astronomy, carried out the astronomical observations needed for a reform in navigational tables, and designed and himself tested at sea improved navigational instruments. Harriot had many other responsibilities in connexion with Ralegh's enterprises. From August 1585 to June 1586 Harriot was in Virginia, and in 1589 he was listed as one of Ralegh's colonists in Munster. He collected intelligence concerning America for Ralegh, and his publication of 1588 was effective as propaganda for Virginia. Harriot was also entrusted with financial, and even political responsibilities by Ralegh. Instructing Ralegh and his captains in navigation was an important part of Harriot's work but it is more likely that he did this as the occasion demanded, rather than on a regular basis.