Historiographic discussions of the universality and regionality of science have to date focused on European cases for making regional science universal. This paper presents a new perspective by moving beyond European origins and illuminating a non-European scientist's engagement with the universality and regionality of science. It will examine the case of the Japanese botanist Nakai Takenoshin (1882–1952), an internationally recognized authority on Korean flora based at Tokyo Imperial University. Serving on the International Committee on Botanical Nomenclature in 1926, Nakai endorsed and acted upon European claims of universal science, whilst simultaneously unsettling them with his regionally shaped systematics. Eventually he came to promote his own systematics, built regionally on Korean flora, as the new universal. By analysing his shifting claims in relation to those of other European and non-European botanists, this paper makes two arguments. First, universalism and regionalism were not contradictory foundations of scientific practice but useful tools used by this non-European botanist in maintaining his scientific authority as a representative Japanese systematist. Second, his claims to universality and regionalism were both imperially charged. An imperially monopolized study of Korean plants left a regional imprint on Nakai's systematics. In order to maintain his scientific authority beyond its region of origin he had to assert either the expanding regionalism of ‘East Asia’ or universalism.

In 1924, Virginia Woolf wrote a short story based upon the life of Eleanor Ormerod. A wealthy spinster, Ormerod achieved notoriety in late nineteenth-century Britain as an economic entomologist. In 1904, Nature compared her to Caroline Herschel and Mary Somerville. In terms of recent scholarship devoted to the history of women in science, Ormerod's career differed markedly from that of her two predecessors. The emotional or intellectual support of a brother, husband, father, or male family relation made no considerable contribution to her commitment to the study of entomology. Furthermore, her life as an independent spinster offered no positive proof for Francis Power Cobbe's dictum: as she aged, Eleanor Ormerod showed no tendency to become a ‘women's rights woman’. She publicly accepted or internalized the dominant, masculine ideology of science; and by contemporary standards, she achieved success.

In 1927, George Paget Thomson, professor at the University of Aberdeen, obtained photographs that he interpreted as evidence for electron diffraction. These photographs were in total agreement with de Broglie's principle of wave–particle duality, a basic tenet of the new quantum wave mechanics. His experiments were an initially unforeseen spin-off from a project he had started in Cambridge with his father, Joseph John Thomson, on the study of positive rays. This paper addresses the scientific relationship between the Thomsons, father and son, as well as the influence that the institutional milieu of Cambridge had on the early work of the latter. Both Thomsons were trained in the pedagogical tradition of classical physics in the Cambridge Mathematical Tripos, and this certainly influenced their understanding of quantum physics and early quantum mechanics. In this paper, I analyse the responses of both father and son to the photographs of electron diffraction: a confirmation of the existence of the ether in the former, and a partial embrace of some ideas of the new quantum mechanics in the latter.

Despite its prominent position in today's medical research, popular culture and everyday life, cancer's history is relatively unwritten. Compared to the other great ‘plagues’ – cholera, tuberculosis or tropical fevers, to name but a scant handful – cancer has few dedicated pages in the general surveys, and its specialists have largely failed to convince the broader community of medical historians – or indeed historians of anything at all – that histories of the disease can tell us fundamental things about the science and practice of medicine, both past and present. Moreover, cancer has a remarkably stable profile over time, at least in terms of its definition, language and terminology – a detail that only makes the disease's absence from historical literature more surprising.

This paper describes and analyses a hitherto unknown document of considerable historical significance: a narrative diary of the weather for every day of the year 1703. Available evidence enables us to assign the authorship of the document, with a high degree of probability, to an Oxford graduate residing in rural Worcestershire. The text presents plentiful natural philosophical speculations about the causes of meteorological phenomena, drawing both upon the ideas of leading scientific thinkers and upon vernacular lore concerning the weather. Furthermore, the diarist composed a remarkably personal document, in a richly descriptive style, cataloguing his physiological and emotional reactions to prevailing weather conditions. The document thus represents an empathic and discursive style of meteorology, an alternative to the contemporary efforts to establish objective weather records that have previously been recognized by historians.

Oft, as he travers'd the coerulean field,

And mark'd the Clouds that drove before the wind;

Ten thousand glorious systems would he build,

Ten thousand great ideas fill'd his mind;

But with the clouds they fled, and left no trace behind!

James Thomson, The Castle of Indolence (1748).

In concluding his ‘Autobiographical notes’, Albert Einstein explained that the purpose of his exposition was to ‘show the reader how the efforts of a life hang together and why they have led to expectations of a definite form’. Einstein's remarks tell of a coherence between personal ‘strivings and searchings’ and scientific activity, which has all but vanished in the midst of the current trend of social constructivism in history of science. As Nancy Nersessian recently pointed out, in the process of illuminating complex relationships between scientific activity and its social context, ‘socio-historical analysis has “black-boxed” the individual scientist’. Has the pendulum swung too far? In reaction to the preceding great-man hagiographie approach to the history of science, the social constructivists have largely ‘thrown the baby out with the bathwater’; consideration of individual scientists' personal approaches to science was unnecessarily expunged with the removal of ‘genius’ as an explanatory tool.

The important role played by the Ecole Polytechnique in the resurgence of science in France after the French Revolution, and its progress ever since, has led to much historical work on its foundation and development. Some of these studies have brought historians to the school's archives; and there chaos has awaited them, for they found the main collections of documents sorted into containers which were nominally classified by calendar year but in fact could contain materials pertaining to various other times. In addition, very many other documents were stored without classification. Thus exhaustive study of the school's history has been difficult, not to say impossible.

This paper examines Robert Willis's science of ‘mechanism’, its relation to the later mechanics textbooks of William Whewell, and its promotion as the key to appreciating, understanding and contriving machinery in Victorian Britain. Responsive, first, to the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge and later to student audiences at Cambridge, Willis constructed a science of ‘mechanism’ in both words in print and works in practice. With Whewell's sanction in the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences (1840), Willis's Principles of Mechanism (1841) elaborated a science of kinematics expressing geometry in motion without considerations of force. With Willis's approval, Whewell's Mechanics of Engineering (1841) began to complete and systematize a projected science of machinery, now separated from previous accounts of mechanics. Their joint project put ‘mechanism’ and the ‘mechanics of engineering’ into print in Britain as adjuncts to a liberal education in Cambridge; further, with the rapid expansion of academic provision for practical engineers from 1838 to 1841, these two Fellows offered their progeny as essential fodder further afield. Reactions to this two-pronged attack varied. But it was, perhaps, Willis's work with elaborate demonstration lectures, using special apparatus built by London mechanists and marketed by educational entrepreneurs, that effectively disseminated the new science.

One of France's colonial enterprises in the eighteenth century was to acclimatize nutmeg, native to the Maluku islands, in the French colony of Isle de France (today's Mauritius). Exploring the acclimatization of nutmeg as a practice, this paper reveals the practical challenges of transferring knowledge between Indo-Pacific islands in the second half of the eighteenth century. This essay will look at the process through which knowledge was created – including ruptures and fractures – as opposed to looking at the mere circulation of knowledge. I argue that nutmeg cultivation on Isle de France was a complex process of creolizing expertise originating from the local populations of the plants’ native islands with the horticultural knowledge of colonists, settlers, labourers and slaves living on Isle de France. In this respect, creolization describes a process of knowledge production rather than a form of knowledge. Once on Isle de France, nutmeg took root in climate and soil conditions which were different from those of its native South East Asian islands. It was cultivated by slaves and colonists who lacked prior experience with the cultivation of this particular spice. Experienced horticulturalists experimented with their own traditions. While they relied on old assumptions, they also came to question them. By examining cultivation as an applied practice, this paper argues that the creolization of knowledge was a critical aspect in French colonial botany.

In the late eighteenth century, the Ecole vétérinaire d'Alfort was renowned for its innovative veterinary education and for having one of the largest natural history and anatomy collections in France. Yet aside from a recent interest in the works of one particular anatomist, the school's history has been mostly ignored. I examine here the fame of the school in eighteenth-century travel literature, the historic connection between veterinary science and natural history, and the relationship between the school's hospital and its esteemed cabinet. Using the correspondence papers of veterinary administrators, state representatives and competing scientific institutions during the French Revolution, I argue that resource constraints and the management of anatomical and natural history specimens produced new disciplinary boundaries between natural history, veterinary medicine and human medicine, while reinforcing geographic divisions between the local and the foreign in the study of non-human animals. This paper reconstructs the Ancien Régime reasoning that veterinary students would benefit from a global perspective on animality, and the Revolutionary government's rejection of that premise. Under republicanism, veterinary medicine became domestic.

September 1931 is seen by historians as one of the key months in interwar British history. It was the first full month of the National Government, the month of the Invergordon Mutiny and of Britain being forced off the gold standard. It was also the month when large-scale celebrations were held to mark the centenary of the discovery of electromagnetic induction by Michael Faraday. This address discusses the specific events of celebrating Faraday and its consequences; it is framed in relation to, and in some instances directly linked with, the crises of that month and some of the consequences of the Great War, especially the growth of the corporate and coordinated state and the rise of modernity.

Let us honour if we can
The Vertical man
Though we value none
But the horizontal one.
W. H. Auden, Poems, London, 1930, dedication

Ronald Aylmer Fisher (1890–1962) is today remembered as a giant of twentieth-century statistics, genetics and evolutionary theory. Alongside his influential scientific contributions, he was also, throughout the interwar years, a prominent figure within Britain's eugenics movement. This essay provides a close examination of his eugenical ideas and activities, focusing particularly upon his energetic advocacy of family allowances, which he hoped would boost eugenic births within the more ‘desirable’ middle and upper classes. Fisher's proposals, which were grounded in his distinctive explanation for the decay of civilizations throughout human history, enjoyed support from some influential figures in Britain's Eugenics Society and beyond. The ultimate failure of his campaign, though, highlights tensions both between the eugenics and family allowances movements, and within the eugenics movement itself. I show how these social and political movements represented a crucial but heretofore overlooked context for the reception of Fisher's evolutionary masterwork of 1930, The Genetical Theory of Natural Selection, with its notorious closing chapters on the causes and cures of national and racial decline.

Louis Pasteur plays a role in the creation myth of biotechnology which resembles the heroic position of his great antagonist Liebig in the story of agricultural chemistry. His intellectual development, expressed in a great book, supposedly underlay a revolution in practice. Similarly, biotechnology is conventionally traced back to Pasteur, through whose influence, it has been assumed, ancient crafts were transformed into an applicable science of microbiology. The emphasis on Pasteur's work in the history of biotechnology has served to bolster the image of progress in the technology following from periodic scientific breakthroughs. Elsewhere I have argued that biotechnology can be better seen as a boundary object, to use Star and Griesemer's terminology, between biology and engineering. As such it has been significant throughout this century, and the word has been used since 1917.

The sciences of ethology and sociobiology have as premisses that certain dispositions and behavioural patterns have evolved with species and, therefore, that the acts of individual animals and men must be viewed in light of innate determinates. These ideas are much older than the now burgeoning disciplines of the biology of behaviour. Their elements were fused in the early constructions of evolutionary theory, and they became integral parts of the developing conception. Historians, however, have usually neglected close examination of the role behaviour has played in the rise of evolutionary thought.

The medium of visual representation played a crucial role in the Enlightenment project of taking intellectual possession of nature, and of dominating it. Pictures helped to categorize the various natural phenomena, to disseminate knowledge about their appearance and, so to speak, to capture them on paper or canvas. From the middle of the eighteenth century onwards, natural historians treating extreme and threatening natural phenomena, such as volcanoes, earthquakes, waterspouts or geysers, increasingly supplemented their written accounts with engraved illustrations. In this paper, I concentrate on the visual treatment of earthquakes in learned publications. I discuss two different types of graphic representation of this natural phenomenon, which had always been considered as virtually ‘undepictable’.

After the great earthquake of Lisbon in 1755, research into the subject was greatly stimulated. Two scholars, the British natural philosopher John Michell and the Dutchman Johan Drijfhout, published earthquake treatises in learned journals, and each complemented his text with a diagrammatic illustration. By translating their theoretical considerations into the abstract form of geological sections, these natural philosophers moulded a new visual language for seismology and earth history. An entirely different example of visual representation as a tool in research into earthquakes can be seen in the approach to the earthquake in Calabria in 1783. The Neapolitan Academy of Science and Letters sent some of its members to investigate the devastating effects of this earthquake on the landscape and the nature of the country. The topographical changes were recorded on the spot by trained draughtsmen, with the aim of providing accurate and comprehensive visual documentation. The pictures are remarkable in the way they reveal a conflict between the new demands of modern empirical science and the established ‘picturesque’ conventions of landscape painting.

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.

Historians of fourteenth-century science have long recognized the extraordinary work at both Oxford and Paris in which natural philosophy was becoming highly mathematical. The movement to subject natural philosophy to a mathematical analysis and to quantify such qualities as heat, color, and of course speed surely stands as one of the most significant aspects of late medieval science. Yet as Edith Sylla has observed, because qualities and quantities pertain to different categories in Aristotelian theory, one might expect Aristotelian theorists to avoid quantifying qualities. Even more serious still, the very task of quantifying physical qualities exposes a tension in the nature of science that was discussed first by Aristotle in his Posterior Analytics.

In the late spring of 1947, the experimental physicist P. M. S. Blackett succumbed to the temptations of theory. At this time, Blackett (1897–1974) was fifty years old. He was a veteran of the Cavendish tradition in particle physics and he was on his way to an unshared award of the 1948 Nobel Prize for his experimental researches in nuclear physics and cosmic-ray physics. His photographs of cloud-chamber tracks of alpha particles, protons, electrons and positrons were well known to practitioners of particle physics, even as they now grace the pages of physics textbooks.

Blackett's turn toward theory in 1947 involved some risk for a well-established experimental physicist. The 3 May 1947 issue of Nature carried an announcement of his forthcoming lecture at the Royal Society:

Professor P. M. S. Blackett, Langworthy Professor of Physics in the University of Manchester, will deliver a lecture on ‘The Magnetic Field of Massive Rotating Bodies’ at a meeting of the Royal Society on May 15, at 4:30 p.m.

Blackett circulated a preliminary draft of his paper among colleagues in several different fields, including the geophysicist Sydney Chapman and the astrophysicist Harry Plaskett.

The concepts of action and reaction before Newton have received so little attention from historians that the unwary student might easily get the impression that Newton was the first to concern himself seriously with the problem. In fact, the subject had a long prehistory extending back to Aristotle and it was actively discussed by physicists during the half-century preceding the publication of Principia mathematica in 1687. Although there is no evidence that Newton himself was much influenced by the views of others on the subject, they formed a part of the intellectual background of the Principia which should not be ignored.

Historians are invariably wiser after the event. Their approaches to the subject of this paper, the Société La Fuchsine, make no exceptions to this rule. That company was formed in December 1863 with the participation of the Crédit Lyonnais bank to exploit the patent monopoly on the synthetic dyestuff known as fuchsine, and its derivatives, of the Lyons firm of Renard frères et Franc. No one could have foreseen that before the close of the decade this whole adventure would end in utter failure. In the eyes of contemporaries La Fuchsine was one of the most impressive and awe-inspiring firms of the European dyestuffs industry in the 1860s. Yet by 1868 La Fuchsine was virtually bankrupt, although it dragged out its legal existence until 1875. However, in every other sense it was already dead well before that date.