Saturday, January 2, 2010

The Popularization of Science in XIXth France: Science and the Arts

Henri Matisse Flowers in a Pitcher 1906 Barnes Foundation Merion PA

Maurice Crossland’s article about popularization of science in nineteenth century France: Science and the Arts: challenges to authority in France under the Second Empire.

Scholars have meticulously studied the cultural and social dimensions of science of the Victorian period. Maurice Crossland’s article about science and the arts under the Second Empire is an important contribution to the popularization of science in France because it readers enables to draw comparisons between the popularization of science on both sides of the English Channel. Crossland draws similarities among science journalists, Impressionists, and “realist” novelists. Crossland argues that science writers carved a new full-time occupation to which they attached a counter-culture that threatened the authority of official science embodied in the Académie des Sciences. Their counter-culture consisted on translating technical science into more understandable language for a broad public interested in science. Moreover, science popularizers undermined the authority of the Académie des Sciences because they knew they had no chances to become members of the prestigious institution. Crossland follows the careers of three popularizers of science under the Second Empire and brings to light the way they carved out a full-time occupation; they were Frederic Moigno (1804-1884), Meunir (1817-1903), and Louis Figuier (1819-1894). The Academy was an easy target and at the same time to legitimate their role as science writers. Moreover, they strengthened solidarity ties that turned them into a self-conscious group who would threaten the authority of “official science”. Crossland also analyses the aims of science writers and their counter-culture. He stresses the similarities with other innovative movements: Impressionists and science fiction writer, particularly the figure of Jules Verne.

Crossland studies three science writers’ success because their articles, journals, and books were widely read by a broad audience. Their common feature is that the three of them worked as science correspondents for La Presse. Crossland argues that working as a science journalist in La Presse served as an apprenticeship for developing science writing as a pioneering occupation in France. The first science correspondent of La Presse was Frederic Moigno (1804-1884). He was a Jesuit mathematician that had to quit the order. In the need to make ends meet, he used his math knowledge to find a new job. He worked as a journalist at L’ Epoque until he was hired as science correspondent of La Presse from 1848 to 1851. Finally, he became an editor of the weekly science journal Cosmos. On the same lines, Victor Meunir (1817-1903) was a clerk who attended the science courses of Musée d’ Histoire Naturelle and Jacques Arago’s lectures too. He supported left wing politics. He replaced Moigno as a science correspondent of Le Presse from 1851 to 1855. Later, he founded his own journal named L’ Amis des sciences. Louis Figuier (1819-1894) took the place of Meunir post as science journalist in 1857. Figuier had been a professor at the School of Pharmacy at Montpellier and suffered from the academicians’ public humiliation. He quit his position at the university and started writing biographies of chemists. In 1857, Figuier launched his own journal called L’ Anee Scientific e Industrielle that became successful commercial enterprise in 1864. Moigno, Meunier, and Figuier were pioneers in fashioning a new role for science writers whose main features were to write a about science and to have a critical approach towards official science. Moreover, they gave shape to what a science writer was; a full-time occupation of which they could make ends meet.

Crossland demonstrates that the science writers developed both a critical outlook towards the Académie of Science and solidarity ties. Crossland gives strong evidence of science writers’ role as critics. Science writers started reporting the sessions of the Comtes Rendus - 1835 - and the meetings of the Académie. Unsatisfied with the reports of the Académie, their science writer’s task turned into an explicit criticism toward individuals or theories supported by the national body of science. This critical stand increased under the elitist and authoritarian Second Empire. For example, Figuier defended Pouchet and wrote that Pasteur was an uncritical scientist who preferred to be pampered and protected by the Academy. Popularization of science began in the press and the science writer’s aim was to destroy prejudices and attack false opinions. Their role, however, went beyond instruction and turned into criticism of the prestigious Académie of Sciences. Crossland draws an interesting parallelism in the method of publishing among science writers, artists, and novelists. Figuier, Moigno, Meunier, as well as Emile Zola, Alexander Dumas, Jorge Sand and Jules Verne, first published their works in newspapers and journals, lately they would become books. However, Crossland falters by asserting that this critical stance is evidence of solidarity ties. Moreover, the evidence of the solidarity ties grown out of the practice of a shared occupation is weak. Crossland asserts the science journalist’s camaraderie due to formal organizations and the sense of camaraderie. In 1857, Figuer founded the Cercle de la Presse Scientifique together with other two science journalists nevertheless they did not keep written records of their meetings. Two fellow science journalists: Lecouturier (Le Pays) and Felix Foubaud (L’Illustration). The three shared the goal of strengthening the links between science journalism and contributing to the progress of science. On the same lines the evidence for the feeling of solidarity are difficult to trace. Crossland asserts that the tribute that Figuier paid tribute to Moigno and Berthoud as the pioneers of science popularization is good evidence of their feelings of solidarity. I contend if undermining the authority of the Académie is evidence of solidarity ties.

Crossland isolates these groups as self-conscious. Furthermore, they build up a counter-culture that clashed with the official culture. Science writers’ goals were to write and sell their works about science to a broad public rather than to become members of the Académie. They were conscious of their role of outsiders, particularly Figuier who failed at his attempt to argue against a scientific theory held by the Académie. Freedom and independence from the Academy made up for the two main features of their counter-culture. Moreover, their identity was grounded on their popularity. Freedom was further more important than political stances. Therefore, their critical stance against the Académie led them to develop their counter-culture. Meunier was a socialist. Figuier backed Louis Napoleon Empire. Moigno preferred a Christian perspective of science. However, the Académie’s defined two strategies to counterbalance the popularity of science writer’s: academicians popularized science and the Academy organized public lectures named Soirées de la Sorbonne. Eventually, their articles, journals and books sold out; ordinary people accepted uncritically their writings. They could make a living out of science journalism in France.

Crossland’s main contribution is the similarities he finds among science writers, the Impressionist movement, and “realist” novelists. Crossland says that novelists, artists, and science writers shared lots of common places where they debated about politics, economics, art, science, literature and so on. Crossland focuses on the Impressionist movement and the figure of Jules Verne. The Académie des Beaux Arts rejected paintings that did not followed certain artistic standards. The Académie des Beaux Arts refused to exhibit Manet, Pissaro, Sisley, and Degas’ paintings. To counteract that, Louis Napoleon acted as a mediator between the academicians and the refusées and he requested the opening of a Salon des Refusés in 1863. In response, Manet suggested an Anti-salon in 1873. They refused to exhibit their painting in the Salon des Refusés because they had organized themselves under the name of Impressionists and had their own exhibition called Anti-Salon. Despite this, the Impressionists as well as the science writers undermined the official authority. They believed in their work and they turned to the public to legitimate their work rather to the traditional authorities. What is more, both artists and science writer were eager to relate to the public. They had found a new source of legitimacy. Despite the fact that there were similarities with novelists, Crossland argues that novelist had more independence than artists or science writers. Crossland emphasizes the figures of Emile Zola and Jules Verne despite the differences between them. Emile Zola was a strong critic of different kind of authorities: art, military, politics, and literature. Zola wrote articles supporting Manet’s works of art and also Cézanne’s. On different lines, Jules Verne (1828-1903) is important in Crossland’s eyes because of his ability to blend literature and science. Verne wrote science fiction. He was aware that his work would not be considered by the Académie. On the contrary, Zola presented his candidacy to the Academy, however he was always rejected. Zola’s case demonstrates that the Académise were still an important source of national recognition. Crossland highlights Verne’s coming across with Jacques Arago in 1850. He also asserts that Verne was a popularizer of science even if he did not intended to be so. Finally, Crossland asserts that Verne, the Impressionist, and science writers had in common to publish their first articles in newspapers and to have a strong belief that science led to progress. Despite all the political and purpose difference among the three groups, Crossland argues that for all of them science was a model to follow. Science led to progress; therefore ordinary people should be aware of science’s potential so as to improve their living standards and situation. The nineteenth century strongly believed that science equaled progress. Science hence became a symbol of civilization, progress, improvement, and future. Despite the opposition of science writers towards official science, their work could not be undermined because they popularized science as civilization and order.

Crossland’s science-writers distinguished from their English counterparts because they made a living out of their writings in the press and in print. A broad audience both read and was marveled by both English and French science writers. Furthermore, Crosland argues that science writes were a self-conscious group who developed solidarity ties and also undermined the scientific official culture. Crossland, hence argues that science writers moved forward into creating their own counter-culture which part of it was shared with novelists and artists. Their counter-culture opposed official science. Science writers found their legitimacy on its broad audience. On the contrary, official science’s legitimacy was grounded on their respective science communities and on the Académies’s recognition. Eventually, Crossland’s main contribution is to show the intermingling among science writers, Impressionists, and novelists in France’s Second Empire. However, he does not convey the social atmosphere of French society: the importance of meeting in cafes, literary circles, social gatherings, or artistic exhibitions. Crossland mentions how Arago could have influence Verne, however their meeting and influencing each other is not the important issue to convey. Humanistic entertainment flowed France’s intellectual life. Intellectual life was not divided into scientific division; on the contrary novelist feed and learns from science writers and artists in a common ground such a café or a party. Sometimes, intellectual events get mixed with social events; a tradition that goes back to the salons of the seventeenth century. Rather than breaking up novelists, Impressionists from science writers, Crossland could have portrayed them as an intellectual counter-culture devoted to different interests. On the other hand, he makes a sharp distinction between official-culture and counter-culture. Nevertheless, he could have related a growing counter-culture and the politics of the Second Empire. The Seconde Empire created new images and representations of science, art, government, and science. If the Académie was state-sponsored, what was the academician’s purpose: change, innovate, or go back to previous artistic movements? What are the relationships with Louis Napoleon both conservative but also liberal government? Why would Louis Napoleon become a broker between the Académie des Beaux Arts and the Impressionists? Crossland misses the values and norms of science of both the intellectual life and the government. What were science writers, novelists, and Impressionists reaction to? Crossland asserts that most of them were undermining the authority of the National Institutes. However, the National institutes were state-sponsored so the link among state, academic bodies and new artistic and scientific movements deserves further research.

Georgetown University
Department of History

What are the salient features of the popularization of science in Great Britain?





Henri Matisse Two Figures Reclining in a Landscape 1921 Barnes Foundation


Why is it so difficult to find the salient features of the popularization of science in nineteenth century Great Britain? There is no question that there was a growing appeal and fascination about science all over the social spectrum in Britain. The popularization of science had a strong religious dimension that aimed to convey “right” morality and ethics to ordinary people. Hence, the message was that science was providential and God-ordained. Furthermore, the religious dimension of the popularization of science was one strategy to exercise social control upon society. Finally, the popularization of science sought to legitimate scientific disciplines. This essay aims to show the salient features of the popularization of science in the nineteenth century in Great Britain through the following five-case studies: Layton’s specialized and general dictionaries, Lightman’s popularizes of natural theology, Cooter’s popularization of phrenology, Shaffer’s public spectacles, and Topham’s Bridgewater Treatesis.

The five case-studies of popularization of science are organized according to the author’s methodology and definitions of popular science, academic science, and popularization of science. In their respective studies, David Layton (1965), Bernard Lightman (2000), and Roger Cooter (1984) assert that there are two distinct spheres in science: popular science and academic science. Their goal is to analyze the popularization of science within popular culture. Despite the fact that Simon Shaffer (1983) does not assert the existence of such two spheres in science, he takes it for granted when he argues that public lectures served two purposes. On the one hand, public lectures instructed and conveyed a moral message to a popular audience. On the other hand, public lectures amused the British upper-classes. However, Shaffer’s study of the production of science as a performance is much more sophisticated because his goal is to find the values and norms those scientists, the upper-classes and the ruling class shared. Finally, Jonathan R. Topham (1998) studies the entire social actor involved in the communication circuit of the Bridgewater Treatises. In opposition to Layton, Lightman, and Cooter, Topham argue that it is impossible to distinguish popular culture from high culture. Moreover, he asserts that popular culture is high-culture. Topham solves the dichotomy between popular culture and academic culture by focusing on all the actors involved in the communication circuit.

David Lightman’s article on “Diction and Dictionaries in the Diffusion of Scientific Knowledge” shows the growing literacy rates in eighteenth century England. Moreover, Lightman builds the grounds for the “marvelous” interest on science and its popularization in the following century. Layton argues that specialized and general dictionaries played a crucial role in the dissemination of scientific knowledge in eighteenth century England - a time when scientific knowledge was accessible to only a few and when classical education prevailed. Moreover, Layton asserts that these dictionaries opened the window to self-education for persons of humble origins. Layton argues that the role of dictionaries changed over time. Republished in 1706, “The New World of Words’ ” was a general dictionary written by a non-scientist named Edward Phillips. The main role of the “The New World of Words” was to instruct and compile a definite code of scientific knowledge. The “Lexicon Technicum” was a general scientific dictionary published in 1704. Finally, the “Encyclopaedia” was a work of reference whose goal was to lay the authority and legitimate certain scientific ideas and disciplines. These dictionaries explained in non-technical language Newtonian mechanics, mathematics, astronomy, botany, and medicine. Layton’s aim is to study the popularization of science throughout the spread of general and specialized dictionaries. However, his definition of popularization – “as the existence of a reading public interested in science”[1] - does not match with the studies of his dictionaries. He does not explore the thoughts, values, norms, and views of ordinary people. Finally, Layton remains focused on members of the elite: those who wrote the dictionaries.

Along the same lines, Bernard Lightman analyzes how both natural theology and chemical retina were popularized in nineteenth century Great Britain. Following, the careers of three popularizes of natural theology: J. G. Wood, Richard Proctor and Agnes Clerke. Their articles of natural theology, in which science went together with religion, were the strategy to reach a broad audience. Lightman argues that those three popularizes of science transformed natural theology tradition by using mass visual culture and by ignoring the meanings that their audiences gave to their sermon-like lectures. Lightman’s important contribution is that he articulates the relationship between natural theology and religion. Lightman purports to analyze popular culture; however he fails to do so. For example, Lightman presents Agnes Clarke as a popularizer of science; however she was part of the scientific establishment. She became an honorary member of the Royal Astronomic Academy in 1903. Agnes Clerke was useful to the astronomers and Royal Astronomy’s interests because she popularized the astronomy they wanted to be conveyed to ordinary people. On the other hand, Lightman does not provide a definition of popularization of science. What does he mean by the use of that term? His idea of both “popularization” and “science” are unclear and diffuse. Lightman believes that by the means of depicting the spectacles and by the use of mass visual culture as a strategy to reach the popular audience, he is able to reach the cultural and social implications of the natural theology of ordinary people. Finally, Lightman’s study focuses on the intermediaries of science, rather than on ordinary people or the popular audience.

Building upon Layton and Lighman, Roger Cooter draws the difference between popular science and academic science as separate spheres of science. Cooter prefers to analyze the cultural and social meanings of phrenology in popular culture. In contrast, in academic science, phrenology became a vehicle of liberal ideology that led to major reforms in criminology, education, the treatment of the insane in the Anglo-Saxon world. His narrative is not easy to follow. His attempts to define concepts and draw ideas from outside of the Anglo-Saxon tradition make his English awkward to read. However, Cooter’s prosopographical study of phrenology is superb. He distinguishes phrenologists from antiphrenologists with the following categories: age, prestige, power, income, religion, and identity. Cooter asserts that phrenologists were in their forties, lacked sufficient power or prestige within academia, did not belong to the established Church, and had a sense of “social worth”.[2] Nevertheless, they were neither political nor economic radicals, they were professionals trying to legitimate a new discipline and struggling to find a place within academia. Cooter faces the same problem as Lightman: their concept of popular culture is high-culture. Cooter explains how phrenology moved from academic social circles to popular audiences in the middle of the nineteenth century. Once phrenology entered the realm of the popular audience, scientists regret its popularization. Because the use of phrenology by a popular audience automatically makes it loose status in the eyes of academic science. What is more, phrenology becomes vulgar once in the hands of a popular audience. Moreover, antiphrenologist lamented the degeneration of a discipline rooted on physiology and anatomy. Cooter carries on an excellent study of the social and cultural meanings of phrenology focusing on both scientist and its intermediaries. He has difficulties of understanding the codes, texts, meanings, and significance of phrenology for ordinary people.

Simon Shaffer writes a short masterpiece about the importance of the public spectacle in the production and legitimatization of experimental natural philosophy in the eighteenth century in England. He deploys rigorous definitions of audience, rhetoric, scientific production, and natural philosophy. The most interesting piece of the article is his explanation of the significance of public spectacles, both due to its educational role and its role of turning into a theatre for the upper-classes. Shaffer thoroughly unveils values and accepted social conventions in the form of “powers of matter”, the sublime, the aesthetics of the sublime and the beautiful, and the epistemology of controlled experience. Natural philosophers as well as the educated and wealthy English society shared the above mentioned values and norms. Shaffer highlights why the public spectacles were so important to legitimate experimental natural philosophy. Moreover, Shaffer argues that experimental natural philosophy’s legitimacy was based on norms and values of the eighteenth century English gentlemanly society.


Jonathan Topham highlights the significance of the popularization of Bridgewater Treatesis in the 1930s in England. Topham contends Robert M. Young’s “common intellectual context”[3]. Young argues that at the beginning of the nineteenth century, British intelligentsia shared a homogenous intellectual context due to the broad circulation of literature books and a strong belief on natural theology. In opposition to Young, Topham argues that the Bridgewater Treatesis had multiple meanings rather than a homogenous interpretation. Each reader invested its own meaning to the Treatesis, and thus he studies the different actors of the communication circle of the production of books. His goal is to disclose how those authors, publishers, booksellers, bookbinders, printers, and readers influenced the readership. Topham makes a subtle distinction among readers: gentlemen of science, middle-class domesticity, the public arena, and radical artists.

Jonathan R. Topham (1998) asserts the need to study the whole range of social actors of the communication circle to understand the popularization of science. Lets start with the authors of the Bridgewater Treatesis. The authors of the Bridgewater Treatesis did not have a clear purpose. On the contrary, an ambiguity regarding the author’s purpose, the content, the intention, the audience, and the genre was an outstanding feature of the Bridgewater Treatesis. The Treatesis’ genre did not fit into a traditional one; it was reviewed both by religious and specialist journalists. In addition, the readership was wide. The readership varied from experts to lay people. Neither were the Treatesis intended for a particular audience which could vary from Oxford educated men to artisans. The unclear strategy of the authors widened its readership.

The following three paragraphs will analyze the publishers, printers, and booksellers’ purposes with regard to the price, format, and content of the Bridgewater Treatesis. The publishers’ had control over the choice of the material form and upon the purpose of the Treatesis. The publisher's main purpose was to dignify the Treatesis. The authors of the Bridgewater looked for the best publishers in London. The first publisher was John Murray who offered a better commercial offer in comparison to Longman. Murray’s presented them as a new genre called popular science. On the contrary, Pickering, who published the second edition, had a clear-cut commercial purpose. Therefore, the Bridgewater Treatesis had an expensive price and were presented as theological works. Pickering’s buyers were wealthy and educated: the aristocracy, the gentry, and the upper-classes. Topham argues that despite the publisher’s purposes, the Treatesis turned into a commercial success because they were sold and read by a wide audience.

Printers, booksellers and bookbinders. The printers played a key role because Whittingham provided credit to Pickering. Moreover, both printer and publisher agreed on high-quality typography and were against a cheap edition of the Treatises. Nevertheless, as the audience broadened, they had no alternative but to sell a cheap edition. The booksellers were retailers. Pickering sold the Treatesis to antiquaries, bibliophiles, and to buyers of the country-market. The commercial success of the Treatesis empowered Pickering. Finally, bookbinders chose the presentation of the publication: the coloring, cotton-cloth, and the leader binding. The bookbinding tells us about the wealth of the readers rather than the durability of the books.

Topham divides the readership into four dimensions: gentlemen of science, socialites, middle-class domesticity, and radical artists. Each group invested a particular meaning and meaning to the Bridgewater Treatises that led to competing ideas of nature and the place of science.

Topham’s goal is to recreate the social world of the readers. His main historical sources are reviews, conversations, sermons, lectures, and addresses. The gentlemen of science read the Treatesis for the sake of maintaining their reputation as scientific experts. Topham focuses on Buckland’s geology. He argues that Buckland fought for his reputation as an author creating expectation, spreading rumors, carrying on intimate conversations, and writing reviews about the future publication of this geology.

It became fashionable to read the Bridgewater Treatesis because their role was to preserve the existence of a select readership. It was a way to reject the fact that ordinary people were interested in reading the Treatesis. Another important role of the fashionable society was to create a public opinion after "soires", "converzationes", and dinner parties. Buckland’s geology also provided a topic of conversation not only within the heart of middle-class domesticity, but also between young men and women. Buckland’s science was morally safe; moreover it highlighted the importance of sublime and wonders.

Both geologists and radical artists threatened the cultural and social authority of the arts and scientific academic bodies. Gentlemen of science consolidated their cultural authority through the British Association. The religious tendency of Buckland’s geology led to a conflict with the British Association. The conflict became a public spectacle. Topham argues that the public spectacle between the geologists and the British Association demonstrate how books turn into contested objects. Topham gives evidence of the multiple meanings given to the Treatesis. Artisans undermined gentlemen’s scientific authority because they had a materialist understanding of science. At the same time, gentlemen of science hold to the idea of providential nature of science. Carlileans, Owenites, and Chartists shared the antireligious end of science.

Layton, Lightman, and Cooter’s flaw is their belief in the split between popular culture and high-culture. I argue that popular culture is high culture because of the impossibility of finding texts, historical sources, and codes that tell us what ordinary people thought. The three scholars study popular culture focusing on intermediaries who devoted part of their lives to preaching, instructing, and publicizing science. However, those intermediaries do not tell us about the meaning that ordinary people gave to science. What is more, those intermediaries were literate and were even recognized members of scientific circles. The attempt to study the cultural and social meanings of science upon ordinary people is worthwhile and necessary. However, I contend with the methodology and the historical sources to reach that goal. Shaffer has a much more sophisticated analysis of the historical sources. He concentrates on values shared by both natural scientists and gentlemanly society: sublime, beauty, wonder, spectacle, and aesthetics are the main characters of the scientific stage. Shaffer’s contribution is to define scientific production as spectacle. Thus, he questions the authority of certain disciplines and shows their strategies to become legitimate fields of study. Topham broadens the actors and its purposes within the popularization of science. Topham claims that radical artists and scriptural geologists threatened and undermined the scientific authority of English gentlemen of science. Morrell and Thrackray argue that the gentleman of science’s central ideology was an emphasis on the relationship between science and religion. At the same time, Chartists, Carlileans, Owenists, and scriptural geologists challenged that view of science. The former ones supported a materialists and non-religious worldview of science. The latter conveyed a religious understanding of geology. The conclusion is that the concept of science had different meanings depending on who read it.

The readership interested in science broadened. Moreover, there were groups – dictionary authors, science popularizers, phrenologists, and scriptural geologists – that both popularized science and even challenged the place of science. Science had become marvelous, beautiful, and mysterious in the eyes of both upper-middle classes and ordinary people. In addition, the religious dimension of science becomes more important. The English gentlemen of science related science to a providential idea of religion. On the contrary, radical artists developed a materialist and non-religious view of science. The popularizers of natural theology – J. G. Wood, Richard Proctor and Clerke – also conveyed a moral and religious message. Finally, the popularization of science sought to legitimate scientific disciplines. Phrenologists fiercely fought to legitimate their new field. Nineteenth century Britain marveled at scientific spectacles and discoveries. The unsolved problem is which was the best way to explain and interpret science popularization; does academic culture belong to a distinct sphere from popular science? Is the communication circuit an interesting approach to understand the popularization of science? Are there relationships that link academic science to popular science? Where intermediaries of science should be placed?

Georgetown University
Department of History
[1] David Layton, “Diction and Dictionaries in the Diffusion of Scientific Knowledge” , British Journal for History of Science, 77 (September, 1965): 226.
[2] David Lightman, “The Visual Theology of Victorian Popuarizers of Science: From Reverent Eye to Chemical Retina”, Isis, 91, No 4 (Dec., 2000): 679
[3] Jonatham Topham,”Beyond the “Common Context”: The Production and reading of Bridgewater Treatesis”, Isis, Vol. 89, no 2 (June, 1998): 234

An Example of the Chemistry Community and the Construction of Public Sphere



Henri Matisse Robe violette et Anemones 1937 Cone Collection, Baltimore Museum of Art




Taking Jan Golinski’s work as the primary example, explain what this group of historians means when it refers to “science as public culture”. Pay particular attention to how this group of historians defines the public.


This paper explores the relationship between the development of science in the Eighteenth Century and its audience. Sociological approaches to the history of science emphasize the fact that local contexts and history define the outcome of the cognitive content of certain scientific disciplines. Golinski’s analysis of the social shaping of chemistry is an excellent starting point to study how social values, behaviors, education, and social status of the audience shaped other disciplines in the eighteenth century. The following paragraphs explore who was the audience or the public culture of the divining rod, and women’s popular science writing in England.
Jan Golinski argues that particular communities that supported British chemists shaped the ways research was conducted and findings were presented. Moreover, Golinski demonstrates the differences between the Scottish and the British communities that supported chemistry. In Scotland, chemists were accepted because of the importance of chemistry to technology and regional identity. In Britain, chemists won their acceptance by supporting a political, social, and economic order of the Eighteenth Century. Eventually, Golinski asserts that social values, political and social concerns of the audiences shaped chemistry’s cognitive content. Moreover, Golinski illustrates how science adjusted to the shifting composition and value-system of its audience. As the audiences changed its social components, the discourse and the cognitive content of chemistry shifted to conform the new audiences.
Golinski uses the sophisticated term of public culture to refer to his audience. His definition of public culture is rooted on Jürgen Habermas’s definition of the “public culture” as an arena for political discourse that is not under immediate control of the state. The existence of public culture allows redefinitions of political, economic, and social values and behaviors within a historical and regional context so as to gradually reform or abruptly change its status quo. Joseph Priestly embodies the active civic role for chemistry, a moral dimension to the science and the democratic diffusion of socially useful research by egalitarian cadres of practitioners. However, the public culture that supported the chemistry community shifted from having an active role related to political reform in the 1790s to a passive one motivated by economic interests in the 1810s. In the 1810s, the public chemistry deployed the discoveries of great men to a more passive audience in ways that underscored social, political, and theological conservatism. The main institution was the Royal Academy and its main practitioner was Humphry Davy. The new passive audience founded Davy’s chemical scientific pursuits by becoming his patrons because his chemistry did not threaten the social, political, and economic order of the 1810s.
Michael Lynn studies the changing public culture that supported the legitimacy and social recognition of the divining rod during the Enlightenment in France. In the 1690s, the diving rod’s practical use was to find minerals or water, as well as, criminals, especially murderers. In the Seventeenth Century the divining rod’s practice attracted a large audience. Theologians, doctors, physicians, natural philosophers and even astrologers had their own opinion about the cultural meaning and the utility of the divining rod. Later in the 1770s and the 1780s, the divining rod captured the imagination of the French again but from a more conservative perspective. The battle over the divining rod focused on where authority lay. The education and social status of the witness determined the validity of the divining rod.
Ann B. Shteir argues that the audience for women’s popular science writing in England was children. Shteir focuses on Maria Jackson’s writings on popular science. Shteir demonstrates that women cultivated a market for popular botanic books from the 1790 to the 1840. Maria Jackson had scientific interests but she had to leave them aside to conform to the social rules of British society in the Nineteenth Century. Jackson discovered that popular botanic book-writing was one of the few ways women could participate in scientific discourse. However, it was bounded by the literary conventions of social and political restraints. That is to say, the role of women in science writing was restricted. So was her audience. Jackson was expected to write mainly for children, and she thus fulfilled the expectations of her society.
The chemistry community in Britain and Scotland, the divining rod in France, and women’s popular science writing in England, were shaped by the value-system of their audiences. Golinski, Lynn, and Shteir’s purpose is to illustrate the historicity of the audiences. The audiences of the Enlightenment period were critical and were engaged in social, political, and economic reform. Therefore, such active audiences led to a creative and audacious science. As the counterrevolutionary political movements settled in the 1810s, the audiences did not want neither political nor social change. The main goal of the passive audiences was to support the economic and technological purposes of science. The relationship between an audience’s political, social and economic concerns and the shaping of scientific knowledge is excellently articulated by Golinski, Shteir and Lynn. Their stress on the local construction of scientific knowledge is superb. However, their approach ignores the cognitive content of the various disciplines because of the over determination of history upon scientific knowledge. The three scholars forget to show the different ways of how such a local construction of scientific knowledge turns into “universal” scientific knowledge. The relationship between the local construction of science and its introduction into mainstream scientific knowledge remains unexplored.


Georgetown University
Department of History