A number of authors have drawn attention to the contributions to geology of Robert Hooke, and it has been pointed out that in several ways his ideas were more advanced than those of Steno, who is sometimes taken to be the founder of geology as a scientific discipline. Moreover, it has been argued that in a number of instances Hooke should receive the credit for ideas which are usually believed to have originated in the work of James Hutton. This recognition of the significance of Hooke's work is regarded by the present writer as being well founded. But, by contrast, the relationship between Hooke's geological ideas and his views on the proper methods for conducting scientific enquiries has been largely overlooked, and his views on the methodology of science, as revealed in his Posthumous works, have received little discussion. Moreover, on one of the few occasions on which they were discussed, by William Whewell, they were belittled. Whewell regarded Hooke's methodological contribution as merely ‘an attempt to adapt the Novum organon to the age which succeeded its publication’, 5 and he implied that the ‘same imperfections’ were to be found in the writings of both Hooke and Bacon. The influence of Bacon is, to be sure, most obvious in Hooke's general philosophy. Nevertheless, it will be argued that Hooke had a much clearer idea than did Bacon of the importance of so-called ‘hypothetico-deductive’ methods in science, and that in many ways his methodological views represent a significant advance on those of Bacon.

By the time of the Leibniz-Clarke correspondence of 1716 the Newtonian and Leibnizian systems of natural philosophy had reached maturity. Each system consisted of different physical as well as metaphysical principles which, taken together, formed a world view. At the time of their famous debates, Leibniz at 70 and Newton at 74, the founders of two highly developed scientific philosophies, were struggling to establish and defend the ontological and mechanical bases of differing bodies of organized knowledge.

Professional historians of science generally recognize the importance of Lavoisier's theory of heat. However, it commonly receives scant attention in the historical treatment of his chemical theories except perhaps as an example illustrating his conservatism and giving the impression that the caloric theory, although perhaps important in the development of ideas on the nature of heat, is independent of and bears little relationship to his general chemistry or is incidental to an understanding of that chemistry.1 An examination of Lavoisier's writings suggests that the caloric theory is not merely a milestone in the development of physics; and rather than an omittable appendage, his concept of heat forms an integral part of his chemical system and plays a central, necessary role in his oxidation theory in particular. The purpose of this paper is to give a general description of Lavoisier's ideas on the nature and action of heat, the origin of these ideas, their development, and their relation to his general chemistry, pointing out his conservatism as well as his innovations.

Benjamin Franklin's enunciation of his so-called ‘one-fluid’ theory of electricity in the period 1747–55 nas often been hailed as an important milestone in the history of physics. So indeed it was, for, with the rapid and widespread acceptance of the new theory, the science of electricity became based for the first time on the view that the electrification of a body involved the accumulation of a ‘charge’ from elsewhere, rather than the excitation of matter already present in the body. Only a little more remotely, the triumph of Franklin's theory over the rival ‘excitation’ theory espoused by the Abbé Nollet paved the way for the more sophisticated fluid theories propounded by Aepinus, Cavendish, and Coulomb in the years that followed.

In the late eighteenth century, which was for Scotland in many ways an ‘Age of Improvement’, the University of Edinburgh enjoyed a golden age. Under the enlightened principalship of the Reverend William Robertson, the University offered wide, flexible, and mainly secular courses of study which were taught by conspicuously able professors. If we restrict ourselves to scientific chairs, a roll-call of their occupants is distinctly impressive: John Robison (natural philosophy, 1774–1805); John Playfair (mathematics, 1785–1805); John Walker (natural history, 1779–1804); Daniel Rutherford (botany, 1786–1819); James Gregory (theory of medicine, 1776–89); William Cullen (practice of medicine, 1773–90); Alexander Monro secundus (anatomy, 1758–98); and their doyen Joseph Black (chemistry and medicine, 1766–99), ‘so pale, so gentle, so elegant, and so illustrious’. The scientific eminence of the University at that time is, of course, widely acknowledged.

The catalogues of mid-eighteenth-century mathematical instrument makers included not only instruments in the sense ‘tools of science’ but also devices intended primarily for educational use. Among the latter would be found mechanical models of the solar system, in varying degrees of complexity and under various names; for convenience such models may be, and often were, loosely called orreries.

That a coherent account of the origins and early history of the British Association for the Advancement of Science has yet to be written is not altogether surprising. Even when the facts of the matter have been retrieved from the scattered papers of Babbage, Brewster, J. D. Forbes, Murchison, John Phillips, Vernon Harcourt, Whewell, and the rest, their organization into a connected whole remains a formidable business. The present paper seeks to identify the roles played in this important chapter in the chronicles of British science by David Brewster (1781–1868), the Scottish natural philosopher, and William Vernon Harcourt (1789–1871), the York clergyman. Inquiries of this kind—into the proper apportioning of the credit for a discovery, a technique, or the rise of an institution—are only saved from sterility if they make possible a better understanding of the critical events. The present review of the origins of the British Association leads to the modest but important conclusion that the organization brought into existence by Vernon Harcourt at York in September 1831 was subtly but significantly different from that which had originally been proposed by Brewster. If this is so, some of the existing accounts of the matter stand in need of revision.

Two imposing related problems confronted the chemical spectroscopist of the late nineteenth century. First, he lacked a criterion for judging the validity of claims for elemental discoveries; indeed, he possessed no satisfactory operational definition of the chemical element. Secondly, he felt the need for correlating the spectra of the elements to a conception of their ultimate constitution.

Acceptance of Augustin Fresnel's wave theory of light posed numerous questions for early nineteenth-century physicists. Among the most pressing was the problem of the properties of the luminiferous ether. Fresnel had shown that light waves were transverse. Therefore, since, among ordinary materials, only solids support transverse vibrations, there existed striking likenesses between highly tangible solids and the highly intangible ether. Accordingly, such men as Augustin-Louis Cauchy, James MacCullagh, Franz Neumann, and George Green constructed various theories of an elastic-solid ether.1 At the same time, however, the disconcerting implausibilities of an all-pervasive solid provoked considerable apprehension in regard to the elastic-solid tradition. Thomas Young found the concept ‘perfectly appalling’ and argued that ‘the hypothesis [that fluids can support transverse vibrations] remains completely open for discussion, notwithstanding the apparent difficulties attending it.’2 John Herschel, probably the most important English advocate of the wave theory, regarded the concept of a solid ether as only a temporary device, useful ‘till the real truth shall be discovered.’3 Consequently, despite the accomplishments which helped to make the elastic-solid theory ‘the most celebrated special form of the wave theory’,4 there were important voices of reservation.

Historians of the Victorian period have begun to re-evaluate the general background and impact of Darwin's theory of the origin of species by means of natural selection. An emerging picture suggests that the Darwinian theory of evolution was only one aspect (albeit, a major aspect) of a more general change in intellectual positions. It is possible to summarize two correlated developments in the second half of the nineteenth century: the seculariszation of majors areas of thought, and the increasing breakdown of a common intellectual milieu. Studies in linguistics, historical criticism, socio-political theory, theologys, and anthropology, besides evolutionary theory, contributed to these developments. It has also been argued that the background of evolutionary thought lay within a relatively unified early Victorian intellectual context with shared religious, moral, and scientific concepts. Evolutionary theory contributed to the disintegration of this shared context, but it did not intrinsically assume a clear demarcation between value-laden (ethical or religious) ideas and scientific ideas. On the one hand, in the later Victorian period, religious and scientific intellectuals found it increasingly hard to share common ground. On the other hand, they did sometimes share an enthusiasm for applying biological models to social and ethical theory. It is necessary to look closely before ascribing any increased differentiation of positions to the impact of evolutionary biology.

In a letter found not long ago in the Institute of Electrical Engineers and recently republished in the new edition of Faraday's correspondence, certain allegations are made about difficulties experienced by Humphry Davy in getting his work published in Napoleonic France. These allegations have been repeated in the standard Davy bibliography and are believed by at least one other Davy scholar known to the author. A new biography of Faraday makes much of this supposed incident and suggests a comparison with Stalinist Russia. No doubt the letter will continue to be quoted and the story believed until someone takes the trouble to examine the situation more closely.