In 1877 the first issue of the Revue des questions scientifiques, published by the Scientific Society of Brussels, appeared in France and Belgium. The new journal was greeted with disdain and hostility by Emile Littrè and George Wyrouboff, the disciples of Auguste Comte and editors of La philosophie positive. The Scientific Society of Brussels was a Catholic organization, and the positivists' opinion was that ‘If science is spoken of in this assembly, it is in order to organize a veritable crusade against it’. But the highly prejudiced assessment by Littré and Wyrouboff completely misread the goals of the society. At the time, the Catholic Church was en pleine crise both in France and Belgium. Church attendance had declined dramatically in recent years, as had the number of young people entering religious orders. Many Catholic laymen and church officials were becoming convinced that some rapprochment with the modern world and modern science was essential. It was to this difficult task that the Catholics of the Brussels Scientific Society addressed themselves with determination.

The original fellow of the Royal Society best known for his concern for the Hermetic tradition is Elias Ashmole, who was associated with the society as early as 1661 and who in 1664 was appointed a member of its committee ‘for collecting all the phenomena of nature hitherto observed, and all experiments made and recorded’, that typically Baconian attempt to clear the decks for ‘scientific’ action. And it was Ashmole's munificence that was instrumental in establishing the first chemical laboratory at any British university, namely that at Oxford set up in the original Ashmolean Building in 1683.

William Thomson's image as a professional mathematical physicist who adheres, particularly in his work in classical thermodynamics, to a strict experimental basis for his science, avoids speculative hypotheses, and becomes renowned for his omission of philosophical declarations has been reinforced in varying degrees by those historians who have attempted, as either admirers or critics of Thomson, to describe and assess his life. J. G. Crowther, for example, sees him as a thinker of great intellectual strength, but deficient in intellectual taste; a scientist aware only of his immediate work and without depth of vision. Not well read in the literature of the subjects of his research, Thomson is seen, moreover, as one whose achievements owe little to the work of others, and whose great personality ‘is an expression in the realm of ideas of the power and blindness of capitalism’, especially through ‘his view of the world in terms of engineering conceptions’. On the other hand, even Sir Joseph Larmor, for whom Thomson was nothing less than a hero, is to be found ascribing to him the epithet of pragmatist.