To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
The problems faced by the Council when it met to determine future strategy in the autumn of 1674 have already been discussed (Chapter 2). To summarise, it was finally determined (7 October)
That such of the Fellows, as regard the welfare of the Society, should be desired to oblige themselves to entertain the Society, either per se or per alios, once a year at least, with a philosophical discourse grounded upon experiments made or to be made
with a forfeit of five pounds in case of failure, a heavy fine when a year's subscription amounted to only a shilling a week. In spite of the Council's firm resolution, nothing was placed upon the statutes, and the new proposals were minatory only, never binding. But, as will be seen, they worked fairly well for the next year or two and set the pattern for what became the most usual mode of ‘entertainment’ at meetings, that is, the reading of papers, while experiments performed at meetings became fewer.
The meetings in the autumn of 1674 began as intended. Wallis read ‘a discourse on gravity and gravitation grounded on experimental observations’; Boyle presented the Society with ‘Experimental Notes of the mechanical production of Fixedness … ’, which Oldenburg read for him (it was to be published the next year); Petty read his ‘Discourse concerning the Importance and Usefulness to Human Life of the Consideration of Duplicate and Subduplicate Proportion’ (a somewhat curious work, not really an experimental discourse); while, after the anniversary meeting, Hooke read ‘his discourse, concerning the construction and uses of his new quadrant’; Grew his ‘Discourse concerning the nature, causes and power of mixture’ on 10 December, when ‘several of the experiments mentioned in this discourse were exhibited after it was read’; and, a week later, Oldenburg read two ‘treatises’ by Ray on botany.
The roots of this study lie deep in the past: I have been interested in the history of the early Royal Society ever since, in 1951, I was generously allowed by the Society's then President, Council and Librarians to plunge into a study of the Boyle papers, the first to wish to do so, probably, since the mid-eighteenth century. This interest has grown with the years, especially when, some ten years later, my husband and I began to edit the correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, named as one of the two Secretaries in the Charters of 1662 and 1663. In those days historical interest in the Royal Society centred mainly on the Society's origins, while currently it is rather on its institutional aspects and its sociological roots. Very little attention has been given, even now, to exactly what went on at its meetings, and especially what its Curators and Operators did in return for their salaries and what they contributed to its meetings, then its main activity. In the twentieth century, as in the seventeenth and eighteenth, many, perhaps most, Fellows value the Society principally for the honour which election to it confers, only a minority taking an active röle in its administrative affairs. But for those seventeenth-century Fellows who best exemplified the Society's aims, it was participation in the meetings which counted, and hence what went on at those meetings reveals much about their interests and those of the Society as a whole. For reasons which will become apparent below, I chose to concentrate upon one aspect of the Society's work, namely its concern with experiment.
With the inauguration of Newton's Presidency, much was to change within the Society and with the perception of it by outsiders. Most strikingly, it is for this period impossible to separate the office from the office-holder, the Royal Society from its President, and Newton the natural philosopher from Sir Isaac Newton P.R.S. The two rapidly became one in most eyes, so that the Society received the credit for Newton's fame and influence, while he in turn took on the attributes of the Royal Society.
Relations between the Society and individuals at home and abroad were also coloured by the fact of Newton's Presidency. Sloane remained an active Secretary for ten years, corresponding as before with, particularly, natural historians, medical men, and his French friends (he joined Newton as an associé etranger of the Académie Royale des Sciences in 1709); after that as a Vice-President he presided at meetings when Newton was not present and of course continued much of his correspondence and influence, although less publicly. In 1713 Halley became Secretary so that now official correspondence took on a more astronomical bent. The publication of Opticks and the growing number of adherents to the Newtonian natural philosophy meant an enormous growth in knowledge and understanding of the Royal Society's empirical programme, now ineluctably merged with the dominating figure of its President, even though the cult of Newtonianism associated with the Enlightenment lay still in the future. Learned visitors were eager to view the Royal Society and its President, one of the essential ‘sights’ of London.
The primary aim of the Royal Society has never been in doubt, for it was recorded in the minutes of the first, preliminary meeting on 28 November 1660. Then those gathered in the room of Lawrence Rooke (d. 1662), Gresham Professor of Astronomy, spoke of ‘a designe of founding a Colledge for the promoting of Physico-Mathematicall Experimentall Learning’, which it seemed might best be done by having ‘a more regular way of debating things, and according to the manner of other countries’ in order to ‘the promoting of experimentall philosophy’. The repeated emphasis upon experiment is the more worthy of notice because it was entirely original. By no means were all the foreign independent academies experimental in concept, while the Accademia del Cimento, which was, had been organised by, and worked directly under, private patronage and control. In contrast, the new English society was to be both experimental and independent, an organised continuation of private meetings that had taken place earlier, first in London in 1645 and later, then also in Oxford, now to be reformed with the addition of many who had returned with the King from exile on the Continent. The Royal Society was to be exceptional both in its attitude and in its procedures, while its emphasis upon experiment long remained its hallmark. As one of its first Secretaries, Henry Oldenburg, defined it in 1664, it was
a Corporation of a number of Ingenious and knowing persons, by ye Name of ye Royall Society of London for improving Naturall knowledge, whose dessein it is, by Observations and Experiments to advance ye Contemplations of Nature to Use and Practice.
As should be all too obvious by now, the Fellows' view of the Society to which they were proud to belong was of an organisation which flourished in proportion as its meetings were devoted to experiment and empiricism. This they saw as their primary aim, this they endeavoured to put into practice, this they tried to promulgate and publicise, it was to this that they turned when the Society appeared to languish and need reform. They were perhaps almost too successful. For the fluctuating reputation of the Royal Society over the first seven decades of its existence was very largely in proportion to the quality of such work as perceived by the public: as performed and discussed at meetings, as reported in the Philosophical Transactions, and as revealed in the publications of individual Fellows. The intellectual world on the whole agreed with the Fellows that empiricism lay at the heart of the Society's activities, although not all agreed on the value of such work.
It is difficult to find impartial observers, necessarily outside those more or less closely in touch with the Society, not least because, in spite of occasional proposals to the contrary, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the Royal Society was never an exclusive body, numbers were not limited and so those who sympathetically praised the Society were generally elected forthwith, whether active natural philosophers, virtuosi, physicians, natural historians, antiquaries or noblemen. Intellectuals not so honoured were apt to view the Society with disfavour, no doubt a prime reason for their not being elected.
With Hooke's death there was to be a very considerable change in the Royal Society's activities. This was not quite the same situation as had arisen in 1677 when the death of a very active Secretary demanded as well as permitted change; it was rather that the death of Hooke, a former Secretary and more or less perpetual Curator of Experiments, de facto if not de jure, since 1662, made possible the installation of a new President (for Newton would never have accepted election while Hooke was alive), and this in turn led to the appointment of a new Curator of Experiments. Newton was to play an active part in the Society's affairs, presiding over the vast majority of meetings, commenting on, occasionally presenting experiments, and above all helping to guide the presentation of experiments, now far more numerous than had been the case in preceding decades, for the next fifteen years. After this, in Newton's extreme old age, the momentum generated previously then continued for another decade. The presence of a new Curator of Experiments (not always so called) totally revolutionised the Society's meetings. Francis Hauksbee, who suddenly appeared at the Society in December 1703 at the first meeting at which Newton presided, was to make the presentation of experiments once again an important feature of meetings from this time until shortly before his death in the spring of 1713.
It is obvious that the very existence of a Curator of Experiments is likely to generate the presentation of experiments at meetings, for Curators had to present experiments with some regularity to justify their existence (and salary).
It is helpful in considering the rôle of experiment to begin with the weekly activities of the Society as a whole, that is, by an analysis of the formal meetings. In this way it is possible to discern what ‘the promoting of experimentall philosophy’ meant to the majority of Fellows (especially those who did not write books at great length), and it is even possible to quantify the proportion of experiment to discussion to some extent. And experiment was certainly at the heart of the Society's original activities as it had been for its originators, those then young men who, as John Wallis remembered in old age, had since 1645 met with the same purpose and had even paid a subscription to cover the cost of experiment.
Before attempting to investigate the rôle of experiment at the weekly meetings in detail, it is well to consider the differing methods of presentation available for the promotion of experimental philosophy in the mid-seventeenth century. Sometimes a Fellow, who after the formalisation of the Society under the 1662 Charter was usually a Secretary, read letters describing experiments (although of course by no means all the letters read were concerned with experiment). Sometimes, and increasingly after 1674, Fellows read their own accounts of experiments performed elsewhere. Sometimes, and it is this which will be traced here, experiments were performed during the course of the meeting. In this latter case, it is commonly possible to know who performed the experiment in question, the Curator as it was called in the early days; he was usually assisted by the Operator, a paid employee.
This paper is concerned with “holism” as a German cultural “style” of doing psychobiology in Central Europe between the two world wars. The paper takes its starting point from a critical analysis of Forman's writings on nationalism versus internationalism in interwar German science, and the alleged “accommodation” of interwar German physics to an antiscientific, irrationalist culture. The paper argues that psychobiological holism was not just a reaction against nineteenth-century atomistic or mechanistic approaches to modeling life and mind; it also represented a domestically directed answer from within the German biomedical scientific community to broad religious and cultural “disenchantment.” As such, holistic psychobiology emerges as a phenomenon that challenges us with at least four levels of discourse: (1) experimental/clinical, (2) epistemological/philosophical, (3) existential/religious, and (4) ideological/political. The paper defends the methodological appropriateness of a collective case-study approach to the problem of holism as a multilevel discourse. It concludes by offering a preliminary contextualized analysis of the thought of three representative holistic leaders of the time: behavioral biologist and ethologist Jakob von Uexküll; clinical neurologist Constantin von Monakow; and neuropsychiatrist Kurt Goldstein.
It has long been apparent that in the nineteenth century, mathematics in France and England developed along different lines. The differences, which might well be labelled stylistic, are most easy to see on the foundational level. At first this may seem surprising because it is such a fundamental area, but, upon reflection, it is to be expected. Ultimately discussions about the foundations of mathematics turn on views about what mathematics is, and this is a question which is answered by a variety of different groups including mathematicians, students, curricular planners, parents, etc. Mathematical practice rests on some kind of mixture of the answers to this fundamental question which come from these diverse groups. Comparing the cultural matrices which supported mathematics in France and Britain in the first decades of the nineteenth century sheds light on the real though often subtle differences in the ways the subject was pursued in the two countries.
In this paper, the perception of mathematics by a nonspecialist, the Romantic poet Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis), is investigated. The study is intended to contribute to a better understanding of the interactions between mathematics and the surrounding scientific culture in Germany at the turn of the nineteenth century. In regard to the problem how the cultural reception of a theory can influence its conceptual development, I argue that the reaction of nonspecialists can be imagined as a sort of resonating body. Some aspects of a theory are stressed, others are ignored or even suppressed. In this way the value system of a theory and thereby the choice of problems and the style of argumentation can be influenced by groups of people who are not active scientists. In fact, the case at hand shows that a change of values has taken place. The original aim of the combinatorial school, whose mathematics Novalis studied, was the mechanization of symbolical calculations. But later, presumably under the influence of the general cultural climate in Germany, this same mathematics was interpreted as furthering — in modern words — a study of abstract structures.
Stylistic analysis of an admittedly speculative scientific article can suggest what is involved in the social act of speculation. Walter Gilbert's influential paper “Why Genes in Pieces?” serves as an example of the conflicting demands of the need to display politeness and the need to display the urgency and excitement of the issues. Socially significant stylistic features emerge in comparison with another paper Gilbert co-authored, where the speculations occur in the discussion section of an experimental report, and in comparison with another, more typical “News and Views” article by another author. The stylistic features include the use of impersonal subjects, the hedging of verbs, the unusual uses of the present tense, and the reliance on repetition, rather than conjunctions or pronouns, for textual cohesion. Later references to the article assimilate it to various lines of research without suggesting its speculative style.
In writing the history of science, the fluctuations between two meanings of the concept of style are of special interest: a simple or direct meaning of this concept referring to a means of expression and of presentation, and a philosophical interpretation of this term referring to “a world of objective spiritual order.” The last two chapters of this paper consider the perspective of the simple meaning of the concept, the first two chapters take the philosophical meaning as their starting point.
The concept of style in its general epistemological meaning emerges within a conceptual space that becomes effective as a totality at the end of the eighteenth century and which is built up of further notions such as: individual, genius, expression, symbol, education, creativity, and others.
The individual and, as believed, the nevertheless infinitely creative subject has taken the place that the concept of god had occupied within rationalism. But it is not only the subject as construction and will, but also the subject who reflected in a new way about the objective foundations of his conscience and tried to bring the object and the means of knowledge into a new relation.
I argue here that in its historical development, sexology developed differently in France than elsewhere in Europe. Though I concur that the modern notion of “sexuality” arose some time in the last half of the nineteenth century, the older notion of ”sex” persisted in French science and medicine for a far longer time than elsewhere because of a fear that nonreproductive sexual behavior would deepen the country's population crisis. I argue that the scientific and medical concepts of the sexual perversions, particularly homosexuality, were considered by French sexologists to be abnormal deviations from heterosexuality, whereas some English, German, and Austrian sexologists — including Freud — viewed the perversions more tolerantly as natural variations of the norm. I also address here the inadequacies of historical accounts of these developments that favor discursive ruptures in the Foucauldian manner, and stress the advantages of social history and causal historical explanation.