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- Article Title: Oceans of metaphor
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Science may well have revolutionised our world, but David Knight finds ‘revolution’ to be an inexact metaphor for the ‘chancy, many stranded story’ he describes. He explores models from biography, with associated concepts of infancy, adolescence, and maturity, before settling on voyages of exploration and discovery. This choice is inspired in part by Newton’s self-portrait of playing on the shore before a great ocean of undiscovered truth, and Wordsworth’s subsequent poetic expansion of Newton ‘Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone’ for all eternity. Indeed, voyaging in strange seas provides a much more resonant and nuanced metaphor than the more common (and perhaps more marketable) revolutionary subtitle.
- Book 1 Title: Voyaging in Strange Seas
- Book 1 Subtitle: The great revolution in science
- Book 1 Biblio: Yale University Press (Inbooks), $49.95 hb, 344 pp
Knight charts a loosely thematic course through the turbulent waters of scientific history. But the strength of Knight’s narrative rests not on broad themes, but in the detailed descriptions of time, place, and person. This history of science is a busy place populated with incident and industry. Like an amicable and well-informed host, Knight introduces us in rapid succession to the famous, infamous, and forgotten, punctuating our brief meetings with amusing and pithy descriptions of character. The genial lute-playing Henry More sits quietly alongside Melchisédech Thévenot ‘traveller, savant, inventor of the spirit level … and author of a widely read book on swimming’. It is testimony to Knight’s fine character sketches and breadth of knowledge that he manages such a vast, eclectic, highly individual cast of characters with aplomb.
The early chapters, as might be expected, take in the origins and philosophical underpinnings of science. We explore the connections between charting the heavens and Earth and consider the origins of the experimental method. Here we meet the meticulous Tycho Brahe ‘in a huff’, Johannes Kepler humble and considered, and Galileo, the forthright risk-taker who sails too close to the wind. We meet Hooke, Wren, and Halley laying bets in a coffee house, and consider the influence of Bacon’s and Descartes’ legal backgrounds on the adversarial and often macho culture of modern science.
Francis Bacon, 1st Viscount St Albans, Instauratio magna (1620)
One of the particular strengths of Knight’s approach is to carefully embed the developments and achievements of science within their cultural and political milieu. The contradictory but also complementary relationship between religion and science receives a suitably considered and impartial analysis. Where conventional history often plays up the conflict between science and religion, Knight acknowledges the mutual support between amateur science and religious occupation. Not only did pastors have the time, education and inclination to ponder the mysteries of the universe, but they also had the skills and drive to communicate their ideas to a broad audience. For example, John Ray’s highly accessible natural history book, Wisdom of God Manifested in the Works of the Creation (1691), combined religious exposition with the latest scientific discoveries, forming a significant literary precursor to much popular nature and science writing today.
The inherently social nature of science is the specific focus of a chapter on scientific societies (clearly distinguished from even older professional bodies, which Knight describes as ‘white-collar trade unions, rather than being dedicated to the exchange and advancement of knowledge’). This dedication manifests itself most in the development of the dominant mode of modern communication – the journal article. Essentially a highly derived form of conference proceeding, crossed with elements of personal correspondence, the journal article has become a powerful literary structure determining much of the way we write, read, analyse, and even think about science. But Knight does not discount alternative modes of communication. The early role of creative genres in science communication is also well described, not just in Bacon’s experiments with Sylvan poetry and personal essays, but also in Fontanelle’s popular Conversations on the Plurality of Worlds (1687). Kepler’s efforts at scientific fiction – which describe a trip to the moon courtesy of demons controlled by his (semi-autobiographical)protagonist’s Icelandic witch mother – was perhaps less successful. Readers of Somnium (The Dream) ‘were meant to pick up the idea that wherever we are in the universe we think that we are at rest at the centre of things … instead [they] pressed the witchcraft charges against his mother’.
Andreas Vesalius, De humani corporis fabrica, 2nd edition. The pictures show the progress of dissection of a felon’s displayed against a Tuscan landscape rather than in the anatomy theatre.
The connections between pure and applied branches of science are particularly well made, with chapters on medical and applied imperatives alongside chapters focused on chemistry, astronomy, or natural history. The expanded vision offered by improved glass technology for telescopes and microscopes also improved the views of the general public, through glasses and windows. But I had never before considered the origins of the pressure cooker as being propelled by both a need to understand the ‘springiness of air’ and the value of making ‘the oldest and hardest Cow-Beef as tender and as savoury as young and choice meat’. The inevitable flow of innovation back and forth between science and everyday life is particularly enlightening for the modern reader (and perhaps policy-maker). The value of such historical perspectives to provide cutting analyses of modern life is well illustrated by Knight’s warning not to judge the now-discredited science of astrology too harshly, particularly by those who subscribe to the equally unpredictive ‘science’ of economics. Nonetheless, Knight readily acknowledges the interconnections between the emerging capitalist economic systems and the developments of science, as we continue to carry the heritage of private patronage, while also benefiting from public investment.
Voyaging in Strange Seas is a history of people, as much as it is a history of science – a mass biography if you will. It is a rich tapestry of many lives, of the people, influences, and trends that make up the complexity of science. Knight acknowledges our tendency to ‘select our past from the great flux of history and … see it culminating in us and our time’. But with so much material, handled with humour and a deft touch, it is hard to see the evidence of such selection here. Voyaging in Strange Seas is not so much a chronicle of science as one of modern thought, in which science has played an integral role along with a diverse range of other movements and influences. No revolution could possibly encompass the diversity or complexity that Knight describes. Only our continuing voyage of discovery across ever stranger seas can do justice to this fascinating story.
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