Into the twentieth century, mathematicians and educators justified requiring students to master Euclidean geometry through four chief rationales: geometry was a subject based upon certain knowledge, it trained the mind in proper and rigorous reasoning, it prepared a path to higher mathematics, and it enabled the measurement of surfaces and solids. This paper explores selected illustrations from the history of American geometry education between 1750 and 1950 in order to demonstrate changes in these rationales over time. Since geometry education is a mixture of visual and mental culture, one episode which will be highlighted is the debate in nineteenth-century textbooks over whether the method of reference to particular diagrams (including diagram labels in the statement of the proposition) was appropriate and desirable. Connections between the four rationales and American democratic ideals will also be emphasized.

James Hutton addressed coal in several publications on geology, combustion, theories of matter and cycles in nature. Coal underscores how Hutton unified chemistry, geology and the natural oeconomy on a topography of knowledge. In particular, Hutton's scope allowed him to distinguish between types of coal and develop a notion of two species of phlogiston based on carbon and hydrogen and their properties in producing light, color and heat. Hutton's crossdisciplinary views on coal reinforces the importance of phlogiston in his work, while also helping to profile further the nature of the Chemical Revolution.

I propose that this essay focuses on the link between genetics and embryology, both conceptually and institutionally, through the funding activities of the Carnegie Institution of Washington (CIW). The CIW's first major funding efforts were in the fields of heredity, especially plant and animal breeding and selection. The essay will focus on the early work of the Station for the Experimental Study of Evolution (SEE), established in 1904 at Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, with Carnegie funds, and under the direction of Charles B. Davenport; and on the innovative studies of genetic transmission carried out by Thomas Hunt Morgan at Columbia University, funded from 1915 onward, also by CIW. While an embryological perspective initially informed the work in Mendelian genetic (Davenport, like Morgan was originally trained in morphology), the increasing emphasis on transmission at the expense of development, led Davenport and others to exaggerated claims about the fixity of inheritance, and to naive, politically suspect, eugenics programs. Yet, at about the same time that the CIW converted Davenport's Station in to the Department of Genetics, it also moved (in 1914) to establish the Department of Embryology, on the campus of Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. To many biologists at the time, the two problems -- transmission of hereditary elements from parent to offspring, and development of the fertilized egg into a differentiated, adult organism -- were part and parcel of the same process.

Human sciences, such as medicine and psychology, have a long history of use of the case study as an object through which knowledge is created, in that it is a way to capture clinical and empirical data and communicate findings to other practitioners and researchers. Although this type of reasoning has been well-documented by historians of the human sciences, little work has been done to connect it to the parallel use of this form of reasoning within biology or in the history of biology, despite increased attention in recent years to so-called 'model organisms' (which I have argued elsewhere depend on reasoning via cases). This paper will examine the epistemological bases and limitations for uses of case studies in the human sciences in order to shed light on the practices of doing biology and doing history with model organisms.

Land drainage and reclamation projects were among the most prominent preoccupations of the English ruling classes during the seventeenth century. Wealthy landowners and investors, often including the king himself, pooled their resources in an effort to transform ever larger plots of wetland into dependably dry, arable farmland, sometimes making fortunes in land speculation in the process. Drainage works of such enormous scale (the largest project, known as the Bedford Level, spanned parts of five counties) required the coordination not only of financial resources, but of technological resources as well. The knowledge, skills, and experience needed to design and oversee such projects were rare commodities in seventeenth-century England; most of the engineers and laborers emigrated to England from the Low Countries, including the best-known figure Sir Cornelius Vermuyden. Their expertise was vital to the success of any drainage project, and patrons rewarded their valuable service with generous grants from the lands they drained. This paper will examine drainage projects that were undertaken in Lincolnshire between 1625 and 1650, and show how drainage expertise came to be used as a means of imposing royal and/or corporate control over areas of the realm that had long been comparatively resistant to it.

The Translator's Preface in the near-contemporary Polish rendering of Baldassarre Castiglione's Renaissance classic Il Cortegiano, by tukasz Gornicki (1566), could serve as a model and well-argued synopsis of the case for adaptation in circumstances of a cultural chasm between original and target milieu. Gornicki, Padua-educated and one of the chief Polish humanists of the 16th century, was inspired in his book Dworzanin polski by a wish to instruct those of his countrymen who did not travel and to promote Italian culture to them, as well as to entertain them. Although a tradition of close links between the intellectuals living in the Commonwealth of Poland-Lithuania and the Italian pacesetters of European culture had already become well embedded, Gornicki encountered a host of obstacles to the direct translation of Il Cortegiano into 16th-century Polish. There were two patent reasons for this. The first was obviously the cultural distance separating the two societies - a formidable geographical separation as well, accounting for their mutual insufficiency of knowledge about each other. Hence in order to preserve the book's credibility, Gornicki had no option but to adapt or even omit items like the 'story of the frozen words' of the original, which would have sounded ridiculous to readers intimately familiar with climatic conditions in a country where temperatures are normally sub-zero in winter. The second reason was the considerable degree of social and cultural incongruity between the source and target milieux. Hence, in order to preserve the book's social propriety, Gornicki was obliged to suppress some of the original's key structural features. He could not allow himself to have female characters participating in the Polish dialogues, not to mention the tongue-in-cheek exchanges of wit. Paradoxically, he did so because he was addressing a non-travelling domestic readership, and many of these stay-at-homes would have been women. But at the same time he was appealing to, and challenging those of his countrymen who had been his colleagues at the universities of Italy to try their hand at translation from Italian into Polish - to continue, develop, or modify the tradition he was founding. Yet paradoxically again his major reason for all this factual debilitation of the original was to bring the contemporary Italian culture closer to his Transalpine readers, to extend their image, or rather perhaps to correct their stereotype, of the Italian culture. Essentially Gornicki was producing an adaptation, not a translation in the strict sense of the term. But in the history of Polish literature his oeuvre has the reputation of a classic of translation, a milestone in the development of modern Polish as a medium of the belles-lettres. Not only should tukasz Gornicki's introduction to Dworzanin polski be accorded its deserved place alongside the better-known standard early modern statements on translation theory. Addressed to a double readership of 'knows' and 'don't knows', it also offers an elegant, scholarly and historic apology for unavoidable adaptation as an instrument for the bridging, or at least narrowing of a cultural gap which makes direct translation impracticable.

The emergence and development of "national siences" in Latin American countries were not, until very recently, part of the agenda of historians of science because the "traditional" history of sciences was not interested in the scientific activity of peripheral areas. It was not until very recently that the history of Mexican science was developed in our country. In this work I will refer to the institutionalization of sience as the process by which national scientific traditions emerge in a variety of contexts. I will distinguish between disciplinary formation in research programs and in disciplinary programs. This distinction will come at hand while studying the case of Genetics in Mexico in agricultural programs, educational programs and the creation of institutions that strengthen Genetics by 1960 with the creation of the Genetic and Radiobiology Program by Alfonso Leon de Garay. As this program expanded, the territory of Genetics was staked, resources and responsibilities were assigned, chairs and academies were founded, series of texbooks were published and disciplinary formation on Genetics was encouraged.

In this paper I discuss the emergence of empirical practices in the Spanish American empire during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. This paper looks at the circulation of information, commodities and curiosities and argues that the establishment of long-distant empires was a key factor in the emergence of empirical practices in Europe. This paper describes the mechanisms at the Casa de Contratación for collecting information about the New World. It also describes the procedures established between entrepreneurs and royal officials for validating claims about curiosities and commodities.

The early history of medical electricity was marked by controversies. The first one was prompted by the invention of a group of Italian physicians and amateur electricians who claimed to have discovered a new method of applying electricity to medical therapy. In 1749, after touring Italy in order to witness the Italian "electric marvels", the leading electrical authority of the time, the Abbé Nollet, wrote a widely circulated report that firmly dismissed the reliability of the method. The paper shows that Nollet's published account was the final product of a series of conflicts and negotiations with the Italian community of natural philosophers, whose consensus Nollet - in spite of his professed disagreement - actively sought. Relying on the unpublished correspondence between the rival actors of the controversy, I highlight the role played by the Istituto delle Scienze of Bologna that, after being responsible for triggering the controversy, in the aftermath of Nollet's visit acted as a mediator between the instances of its local members and those of Nollet, himself a member.

This paper examines travel, picture-making, and picture-using as scientific and colonial practices. Taking as a case study images produced by eighteenth-century naturalist expeditions through the Americas, I explore the manufacture of scientific objects, the construction, structure, and operation of knowledge networks, and the ways in which issues of scientific expertise, authority, and authorship play out in colonial contexts. I suggest that pictures of nature functioned as mediators between American and European knowledge, between local and trans-local information, between field experience and book experience, and between the world of objects (a patch of jungle, a flower) and the world of knowledge (a scientific specimen on a blank page or a museum display).

It is a commonplace of the history of science that the phlogiston theory suffered a deadly blow in 1777, when Lavoisier published his Memoir on Combustion in General, an account of his experiments with mercuric oxide, which were a careful and quantitative repetition of Priestley's 1774 experiments. However, in 1787 Richard Kirwan, in his Essay on Phlogiston and the Constitution of Acids, was still able to successfully defend phlogiston 'theory' on experimental as well as conceptual grounds. Identifying phlogiston with 'inflammable air' (hydrogen), Kirwan explained Lavoisier's observations in the terms of the older theory. Yet four years later, in 1791, Kirwan did abandon phlogiston in favor of the new doctrine. A careful reading of the Essay demonstrates that, contrary to the accepted view, and much in line with F. L. Holmes, by the end of the 18th century, there were a few versions of the phlogistic view (Kirwan's version being one of the most central) that were quite close, in many ways, to the ideas advanced by Lavoisier, and Kirwan's shift was very much within the new framework. Thus, pace Kuhn, it was neither the mere overthrow of phlogiston nor solely the bringing into being of oxygen that epitomized the dawning of a new chemistry.

Vero Copner Wynne Edwards is best known as the father of an unsuccessful theory of group selection. Although there are multiple explanations for the rejection of Wynne-Edwards' ideas, I argue that his lack of a clear disciplinary identity played a significant role in the fate of group selection. The conundrum is that, while he is often categorized as influential to the development of animal behavior studies, this was not at all how he was seen by his ethological contemporaries. In 1924, Wynne-Edwards went to Oxford to read zoology with Julian Huxley and received his first exposure to the study of behavior. While at Oxford, he became a student of the ecologist Charles Elton and developed an interest in populations. As his career and his theories developed, Wynne-Edwards was influenced by the work of the population geneticists Sewall Wright and Theodosius Dobzhansky. Later, the ecological work of W. C. Allee, A. E. Emerson, and Thomas Park was integrated into Wynne-Edwards' view of nature. The most curious example of Wynne-Edwards intellectual wandering and its attendant effects, is his inclusion in Donald Dewsbury's collection of autobiographical memoirs, Leaders in the Study of Animal Behavior. The selection of Wynne-Edwards as a member of this cohort might lead one to believe that he was clearly identified as a behavioral biologist. I argue that this is a gross oversimplification and that the clarification of Wynne-Edwards relationship to ethology will help to illuminate the development of that discipline.

This paper will explore the tensions which could emerge in the career of a scientist who opted to spend a significant amount of time writing for nonspecialist readers. In the Victorian era it was common for intellectuals, including scientists, to write material accessible to nonspecialists. But by the end of the nineteenth century the professionalization of science had proceded so far that such writing was increasingly seen as a distraction from the scientist's true objective. J. Arthur Thomson, Regius Professor of Natural History at Aberdeen from 1899, began as a promising researcher (he trained under Ernst Haeckel)but allowed himself to be sucked into an ever-increasing demand for his services as a writer of textbooks and popular surveys. His popular writings tended to reflect an old-fashioned view of science, yet clearly there was a demand for this material from publishers, including the publishers of textbooks aimed at college biology courses. Thomson was a committed teacher, as well as someone who saw it as his mission to spread the word about the implications of his vision of science. What other scientists saw as a betrayal of his initial promise as a researcher, he saw as the fulfilment of a mission to explain the underlying nature of science to the wider world. To understand his motivations and his strategies, we need to explore his own beliefs, his relationships with other scientists, his academic environment, and the opportunities which opened up for him in the world of publishing.

Graphic recording methods emerged in a broad range of experimental disciplines in late nineteenth-century science and were often hailed as the new universal language of science. This paper examines their emergence, stabilization, and legitimation. The discussion centers on the attempts of the French physiologist E.J. Marey to articulate a theory of scientific instruments, which defined graphic inscription as their ultimate form. Drawing upon the rich variety of optical instruments, toys, and visual effects circulating in nineteenth-century science and lay culture, Marey characterized graphic recording as a hybrid of the map (spatial representation), clock (time measurement), and photograph (automatic inscription). The graphic apparatus, he contended, enabled a unique and unprecedented form of mimetic representation. But mimesis of what? Marey answered with a reflexive neo-lamarckian account of the evolution of organisms that explained the emergence of tools and instruments in humans out of the evolving functional differentiation of the zoological series. On the basis of experiment and morphology, he argued that organisms *are* inscription devices: functional activities describable in terms of energy physics, which inscribe their traces and imprints on bodily tissues. Similarly, graphic inscription apparatus were conceived as quasi-organisms, having emerged as externalizations of animal function, becoming freestanding organs of sentience "with their own domain" of perception. In Marey's account, graphic recordings thus acquired a special legitimacy and meaning through this linkage of theories of energy and evolution. Moreover, Marey used his account to make explicit alliances with the new progressive politicians of Third Republic France.

Between the 15th and 18th centuries, maps moved incessantly between various territories and cultural entities in Western Asia and Western Europe. Although this was not a new process - there are convincing arguments for such a migration for earlier periods too - it intensified in those centuries. In the Ottoman Empire, the court, politicians, scholars, converts, ambassadors, navigators, painters, calligraphers, and reformers participated in the acquisition of maps, their translation, the transfer of their concepts, notions, and icons from previous and contemporary Muslim and Christian societies (Timurid, Mamluk, Byzantine, Habsburgian, Dutch, French - to name a few). In Western European countries, cartographers, map-makers, courts, scholars, travelers, politicians, merchants, and officers were involved in modernizing Ptolemaic maps and acquiring new knowledge about Asia and Africa on the base of Arabic, Turkish, and Persian maps and texts with the help of Christian migrants from the Arabic parts of the Ottoman Empire, converts, and Jewish, Christian, and Muslim priests, scribes, and scholars in the Ottoman Empire. While the process of translating such maps is documented only in fragmentary fashion in the extant original sources, a study of the extant maps can help to uncover important elements of the process of encounter and change which took place between the various participants.

In the twentieth century, physics moved from a disinterested course of academic enquiry to a vital component of the cold war arsenals of the United States and its Western European allies. Over the course of the first seven decades of this century, the numbers of graduate physicists being produced in the US and Europe dramatically increased, even in proportion to the growth of populations of those countries. This paper seeks to understand the quantitative impact of this significant change, using as its main resource a database I have constructed of all graduate degrees in physics involving the production and submission of a thesis. The database covers all theses submitted in Britain and Germany between the years 1900 to 1970. The paper will focus on two key areas of change. The first is to examine in detail the rates and types of change of the number of graduate physicists being produced in Britain and Germany. The second area of change is the type of physics being taught to graduate students. Finally, some comparative remarks will be offered on the differences between the effects of the US and European efforts to increase the number of graduate physicists. These remarks will also suggest some directions for future research.

Shaping Science with Rhetoric: the Cases of Dobzhansky, Schrödinger, and Wilson, by Leah Ceccarelli, published by University of Chicago Press in 2001, closely examines three books that seek to motivate scientists to engage in interdisciplinary work: Theodosius Dobzhansky's Genetics and the Origin of Species, Erwin Schrödinger's What is Life?, and Edward O. Wilson's Consilience. In addition to uncovering the rhetorical strategies that are used by scientists in attempts to open new spaces for collaboration across disciplines, this study utilizes rhetoric to motivate scholars from two different disciplines to come together. The methods of historians and rhetorical critics are united in a way that seeks to improve the work of both. For example, historians tell us much about the context in which these texts were written, but because they do not have the microanalytical tools of rhetorical inquiry that would allow them to study the persuasive design of the individual text, they are unable to say precisely how those texts worked; in contrast, rhetorical critics are able to reveal much in their close rhetorical readings of individual texts, but because they rarely engage in careful historical research, they make naïve assumptions about the actual influence of the strategies they reveal. In this paper, I describe the ways in which rhetoricians and historians can benefit from sharing their perspectives and traditions of scholarship. Historians of science will find that a rhetorical microanalysis mediates some of the conflicts that have arisen in their literature about the function, value, and meaning of some influential scientific texts. At the same time, rhetoricians of science will be surprised to find that documents recording the history of reception exist in historical archives and can contribute greatly to our understanding of how these texts persuaded (or failed to persuade) their readers.

This paper examines the introduction of Georg Ernst Stahl's (1659-1734) gynecological work to the popular market, especially that of what may be called the Frauenzimmer literature, in the 1720s. It focuses on the publication of Georg Ernst Stahls ausfährliche Abhandlung von den Zuf‰llen und Kranckheiten des Frauenzimmers, one of the products of Leipzig publishers' intensive efforts in popularizing the academic works of Stahl, formerly a professor of medicine at the University of Halle and then First Physician to the Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm I and thus one of the most powerful medical figures in Protestant Germany. This publication in particular was a conscious introduction of Stahl's gynecological dissertations to the thriving market of the Frauenzimmer literature, a literature which addressed literate women of upper- and middle-classes to their education, manners, and the care of their bodies. This paper explores the social and cultural factors at work that supported the publication of Stahl's medical Frauenzimmer work: for example, the appropriation of Stahl's authority in contemporary medicine; the generic elements of early modern medical dissertations that allowed their transformation into laymen's readings; the increasing popularity of self-care medical publications; and the market of the Frauenzimmer literature.

My paper will explore the controversy surrounding the explosion of psychological testing by business in the 1950s and 1960s, detailing the implications of these new technologies of corporate governance for understandings of work and of the self. In the postwar era, I will argue, the burgeoning field of Industrial Psychology helped construct ideal corporate personality types using highly quantified measurements of such dimensions of personality as Masculinity, Practical Judgment, Cooperativeness and Management Identification. Personality came to be seen not only as an important aspect of a worker's potential, but for white-collar workers was often discussed as the primary attribute bought by an employer. The quantification of employment testing among industrial psychologists and personnel experts can be seen as a kind of Taylorism of the psyche, an attempt to attach lights to the ego and film the streaks across charts of extroversion, domination, and masculinity. I argue first, that corporate, bureaucratic work increasingly involved a commodification and presentation of self, and second, that the personality being presented was analyzed and defined by corporations in spectacularly minute and invasive ways.

The objective of this paper is to present under a new light several objects (instruments

and manuscripts) and visual tools (tables, notations, diagrams, nomograms, etc.) that were used in the astronomical practice of Muslim astronomers, and to present evidence for the role of visualization in the teaching of astronomy. I shall pay attention to the specificities of individual "visual cultures of science" associated with distinct Islamic societies, while at the same time attempting to assess their overall historical unity.

This paper is a case-study in the historical geography of American field science. It looks at something that is now commonplace - land-use mapping and classification for purposes of regional planning - and considers its roots in the practices of a particular natural-cultural place. The specific argument is that after the first World War the upper Great Lakes region proved so hospitable to certain kinds of field work that fundamental cartographic innovations were pioneered there. Geographers, soil scientists, and foresters working in the cut-over lands of northern Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota had a unique opportunity and an official mandate to create regional knowledge efficiently. They responded by developing specialized mapping techniques which, while tailored to a particular region, could be applied to any rural area of the United States. In fact, cartographic innovations pioneered and refined in the Great Lakes States, such as aerial photography, fractional-code and unit-area mapping, and land-use appraisal, were adopted by planners of the Tennessee Valley Authority, among others. The paper thus shows how practical knowledge emerged and crossed boundaries in special - and literal -- American topographies.

The authors of an August 1996 BioScience article asserted that "in general, scientists agree" that the introduction and spread of alien (i.e., locally nonindigenous) species is second only to habitat destruction as a lethal agent threatening biodiversity. Thus began an era of coordinated xenobiophobia. The invasive exotic species issue was adopted as a cause celebre by the IUCN, numerous national governments, and major NGOs such as The Nature Conservancy, resulting in policy actions such as President Clinton's February 1999 Executive Order (13112) on Invasive Species. But the BioScience article included only one citation in support of the "general agreement" among scientists, and that source (E.O. Wilson's 1992 book The Diversity of Life) was a semi-popular account that in turn cited only 'unpublished data' and vaguely ranked threats only to North American fishes. Although the alarm against alien biota was raised by scientists in a scientific journal, their concerns can be shown to rest heavily on a tripod of three fundamental value judgements (aesthetics, ethical/religious duties, and economic practicality) permeating the scientific and popular literature of "biological invasions". In this case, the perceived authority and continuing personal endorsement of a celebrity scientist with mass appeal and media access helped generate and maintain an international moral and political imperative. This illustrates the need to understand the role of value judgements by scientists in general, and particularly in the issue-based environmental sciences.

From its inception, the Carnegie Institution of Washington's Department of Embryology served as a mecca for scientists from multiple disciplines and heterogeneous backgrounds who were interested in the reproductive anatomy and physiology of nonhuman and/or human primates (including comparative anatomy) as well as their embryonic development. In the early decades of the twentieth century, there were very few centers of reproductive research anywhere in the world. The scope and depth of reproductive studies undertaken at the CIW Department of Embryology could arguably be said to justify calling it the major such medically-oriented center in the US during this period.This paper examines the full range of reproductive research pursued in the Department from 1913-1955. Much of this research drew deeply upon the Department's superb infrastructural resources---the Human Embryo Collection (begun by Franklin Payne Mall and sustained by George Streeter, Chester Heuser and others) and the first primate research colony in the US (initiated by George W. Corner and redeveloped by Carl Hartman). The major figures and their research topics include: Mall, Streeter and Heuser (all on morphological embryology), Hartman (the female cycle; sperm and ovum transport), Corner (the ovarian and uterine cycles), Robert K. Burns, Jr. (experimental approaches to the development of sexual organs), Louis B. Flexner (placental transmission), Samuel R.M. Reynolds (the uterus), Arpad Csapo (uterine muscle), and Elizabeth M. Ramsey (the placenta). Mention will also be made of the related work of a number of regular visitors who came to work at the Department because of its exceptional resources and generous and receptive colleagues: George W. Bartelmez, Arthur T. Hertwig, Jessie L. King, Adolph W. Schultz, L.H. Schmidt, and others. Emphasis is on the remarkably diverse community of scientists who worked at and around the Department over the years.

The problems of mass society were widely written about in the twenty years following World War Two. Works such as David Riesman's The Lonely Crowd and William Whyte's The Organization Man bemoaned the growth of conformity and the supplanting of autonomous individuals with homogenous groups. This paper describes how a group of psychologists and lay experts answered this problem by (re)constructing the creative personality type. The creative personís individuality was not compromised by involvement in social groups. At the same time the creative person, unlike the genius, was imagined as part of society, rather than as isolated from other people. In fact, the creative type exhibited many social virtues such as lack of prejudice, open-mindedness, and flexibility. The creative personís binary opposite was the conformist who was constructed as rigid, prejudiced, and inflexible. By creative personís social role was enhanced by making creativity rather than non-conformity the opposite of conformity. As a consequence, by making autonomy an internal psychic trait rather a social matter, these psychologists advanced a vision of society that allowed for individual distinctiveness while retaining its cohesion.

I will present an overview of the Arabo-Latin glossary project undertaken with the Arabic and Latin editions of Maimonidesí treatise On Asthma, (Arabic edition prepared by Gerrit Bos; Latin edition prepared by Michael McVaugh; glossary prepared by myself). The glossary will be completed by that time, and so these remarks are in the form of conclusions drawn from that research. On Asthma is known to have been translated twice into Latin, first by Armengaud Blaise (1294), and later by anonymous, possibly John of Capua (c. 1380). After briefly describing the contents, I will discuss stylistic features of each translation, in order to draw a comparison, and to evaluate the relative merits of each. D. Gutas and G. Endress in their Graeco-Arabic Lexicon adopt a scheme, a sort of ìtranslation grammarî, by which to analyze the transformations of specific expressions. How this scheme was adapted for Arabo-Latin transformations will be shown. Other efforts at Arabo-Latin analysis, such as that of S. van Riet, Avicenna Latinus, will be compared with the present one. Finally, drawing on experience analyzing Graeco-Arabic and Arabo-Latin translations, I will make general remarks about the sort of insights which can be drawn from this painstaking lexicographical analysis.

This paper will explore the role of London-based men's mathematical clubs and nationally circulated periodicals in fostering a masculine mathematical culture in mid-eighteenth-century England. The paper will focus on the interface between the private social world of the club and the public sphere of print in establishing a competitive, masculine mathematical discourse. Most of the material debated in these arenas had not yet been securely established in secondary and post-secondary curricula, underscoring the significant role of British homosocial club culture and a print-based public sphere in shaping cultural expectations of new mathematical techniques, among them Newtonian infinitesimal calculus. An important focus of the paper will be the importance of this discursive process in fostering an atmosphere of exclusion with regard to women's pursuit of higher mathematics.

Although Nicholas Copernicus in his published writings never mentioned the question of extraterrestrial intelligent life, it was above all this cleric from a remote corner of Europe who opened the door through which extraterrestrials entered the modern world. This presentation will discuss when and how this process took place and how it interacted with the acceptance of the Copernican system. The presentation will include discussion of religious aspects of the debate over whether intelligent extraterrestrials exist, but attention will also be given to such issues as the 'Copernican Principle,' claims regarding extra-solar planets and the 'infinitization' of the universe, and the cultural aspects of the extraterrestrial life debate. Among the points to be developed are that the debate over extraterrestrials significantly influenced the reception of heliocentrism and that resistance to Copernicanism lasted longer than is usually assumed.

The Italian natural philosopher Antonio Vallisneri (1661-1730) is perhaps best known for his work on human reproduction, but he was a respected naturalist as well. My paper will explore the manner in which Vallisneri's participation in the international network of scientific exchange affected his methodology, with a particular focus on his De' Corpi marini che su Monti si trovano (1721) (Of marine Bodies found on Mountains). The book is a collection of letters, all part of his actual correspondence, on the subject of fossils and other topics in which he was then participating in scholarly debates. As I will argue, the letter is a very good metaphor for understanding Vallisneri's natural philosophy, and for exploring the historical context in which worked. Vallisneri was an active participant in the circulation of knowledge and natural objects across political and cultural borders; he had an extensive network of correspondents throughout Europe with whom he exchanged letters, books, and curiosities. The act of corresponding with other natural philosophers constituted the frame of reference for his world view, and the Republic of Letters was a fundamental source of status and legitimacy for his scholarly work.

The aims of this paper is to discuss the methods used by different translators in Anglo-Saxon times in order to render Latin texts of medicine.

As it is well known, the Anglo-Saxons were the first to translate in a European vernacular language Latin scientific and technical treatises of the late antique period. Among these treatises, an outstanding position is held by the so-called Old English Herbal, the translation of a group of medical tracts in Latin, which together can be considered to form the common pharmacopoeia of the early middle Ages. This translation is also very interesting as it offers the possibility to study how different translators worked on the same texts. In fact both the pseudo-Apuleius Herbarius and the Medicina ex animalibus served as a source for many of the remedies included in Anglo-Saxon collections from very early times. The existence of different translations of the same Latin sources can therefore give us an insight into the linguistic competence and the methods used by the translators to render the Latin originals and all their contents from a language to another.

This paper explores the fashioning of anatomical modelling as a medical practice in eighteenth-century Italy. It investigates the circumstances in which anatomical models were constructed as reliable sources of medical knowledge; and examines how medical discourse, visual codes, conventions of gender and carnivalesque culture affected the way in which anatomical modelling elaborated norms of representation of the human body. In the course of the eighteenth-century, the meaning of anatomical models varied in relation to their employment as pedagogic tools in Universities, as specimens of collections and Grand Tour displays or as devotional pieces elaborating on the motif of the "memento mori". This paper analyzes how anatomical models set the stage for complex encounters between the gaze of the viewer and the authority of the modeler, between shifting patterns of conceptualisation of the human body and codified forms of visual representation. Focusing on the wax-works of the Bolognese Anna Morandi Manzolini (1716-1774) and the "anatomical machines" of the Neapolitan Raimondo di Sangro (1710-1771), I explore the social contexts, cultural environments, practices of knowledge, and religious motifs that constributed to define the status of anatomical models as reliable representations of the human body.

For more than three centuries scientists, historians, and popularizers of science have been repeating the claim that Copernicus 'dethroned' Earth from its 'privileged' central position in the universe. However, a survey of pre-Copernican natural philosophy refutes the now standard assumption that geocentrism implied anthropocentrism-or that literal, spatial centrality entailed figurative, axiological centrality. And Copernicans' own account of the axiological meaning of the new astronomy further discredits the cliché about Earth's "demotion." It is not yet clear how or when Copernicanism came to be seen as entailing a demotion for humankind. Early occurrences of this inference appear in some French writers from the 1640s on, among them Cyrano de Bergerac and Bernard le Bouvier de Fontenelle. Perhaps the inference was made more credible by occasional expressions-for example by Donne and Pascal-of alienation at the larger and culturally less familiar cosmos envisaged by the new astronomy. Like any great idea or discovery, heliocentrism and the consequent "enlargement" of the universe evoked contrary responses. It is peculiar, though, that fearful responses have received such overwhelming emphasis, when other interpreters-including prominent Christian, scientifically informed figures such as John Wilkins and Cotton Mather-are so clearly exhilarated by the new cosmic vistas.

William E. Webb's 1872 Buffalo Land was a combination wild west adventure story and land agent's advertisement. Webb's dime novel format included a considerable amount of material on Kansas paleontological field work at an early point in the history of scientific explorations of the state. Connections between Webb and Edward Drinker Cope have been previously noted by Taft(1953). This paper further explores the connections between Webb, land agent for the Kansas Pacific Railroad, and Cope the paleontologist and discusses Webb's use of Cope's scientific work and publications as parts of Webb's own book, Buffalo Land. This "contribution" by Cope seems to have been quite acceptable to the scientist.

This paper describes the evolution of the Relaciones Geograficas compiled by the Spanish imperial government during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. Early Relaciones reveal the Crown's interest in exploiting the natural resources of the New World from the first decades of colonial settlement, a major aim of colonization that has been hitherto overshadowed by a traditional historiographical focus on the export of precious metals. Moreover, later Relaciones indicate both a sustained and intensified interest in natural resources, particularly regarding Spanish discovery of indigenous drugs in the Americas. Backed by strong institutional support of the Council of the Indies, the Royal Natural History Museum, the Royal Pharmacy, and the Royal Botanical Garden in Madrid, this interest led to a full-scale program for experimentation, cultivation, and incorporation of indigenous drugs into a European pharmacopoeia. This nascent economic botany predated similar English aims, but was interrupted by the wars of Independence, whereupon indigenous drugs and a newly developed American pharmacopoeia were incorporated into official efforts to construct national identity.

In recent years, a number of scholars have analyzed the crises of fourteenth-century Europe - the Great Famine, the Black Death, and the Hundred Years' War - and the tendency of contemporary observers to interpret these disasters within an apocalyptic framework. Late medieval apocalypticism is usually discussed by scholars in terms of its religious implications; in contrast, this paper explores how apocalyptic thinking led to the study of the natural world. It examines the natural philosophy of John of Rupescissa (c. 1310-c. 1364), a Franciscan friar and the author of numerous treatises on apocalyptic prophecy and medical alchemy. Motivated by the recent Franciscan Spiritual controversy and the

apocalyptic reading of history promoted by Joachim of Fiore, Rupescissa viewed natural philosophy as a means both to rescue the Church from the imminent attack of the antichrist and to institute a period of physical and spiritual health on earth. This paper argues that Rupescissa's apocalyptic concerns led him to interpret natural biological and chemical processes in terms of their connection to salvation history. Rupescissa used a number of eschatological metaphors to describe and dramatize the workings of medical alchemy on the human body; for instance, he named medicines "heaven" and "hell," and compared their operations to the Passion of Christ or to the collective death and resurrection of humanity. Through these metaphors, Rupescissa collapsed distinctions between the natural and the supernatural, asserting an inherent unity in the cosmos, and connecting his alchemy to Joachite predictions of a spiritual age to come.

The eruption of Krakatau in the Netherlands East Indies in 1883 had profound global effects: it erupted seven cubic kilometers of rocks and ashes up to seventy kilometers into the atmosphere; a fine dust blew around the earth several times; the explosion was heard as far away as Australia; the resulting tsunami killed more than thirty-six thousand people; and the immediate surroundings of the volcano were plunged in utter darkness for three days. The effects of this event were not limited to southeast Asia. On the contrary, the eruption demonstrated that a single catastrophe taking place on one side of the world could affect (for example) the climate on the very other side. The natural disaster of Krakatau staged an experiment on a very large scale, an experiment that turned the world into a laboratory. By interesting (and essential) coincidence, the catastrophe occurred at just the moment that it could become a global subject: with the existence of a well-developped colonial bureaucracy; the establishment of transoceanic communications; the standardization of measurements; and the diffusion of science to the areas most distant from Europe. The Krakatau event thus stimulated systemic and global thinking in the sciences, seeking to establish links between phenomena hitherto considered as distinct.

Field primatology emerged as a serious endeavor following WWII in Japan, the United States, and Europe, mainly in Great Britain and the Netherlands. These three traditions had distinct ways of conceptualizing and studying primate behavior, asked different questions, and were located in different disciplines. This paper will focus on these dissimilarities, particularly in reference to the divergence in methodology between the early post-war practices in the United States and Europe. The influence of classical ethology informed the two major centers that trained primatologists in Europe: the University of Utrecht, and Cambridge University. The influence in both schools came initially from Niko Tinbergen. Primatology in Britain began at the Madingley laboratory at Cambridge University, founded by W.H. Thorpe as an Ornithological Field Station in the mid 1950s. The careful field methods developed by classical ethology and ornithology laid the groundwork for how primate behavior would be studied in Britain. Primatology in the United States began as an anthropological discipline, strongly influenced by the ideas of Sherwood Washburn, who directed fifteen of the first nineteen PhD dissertations in the U.S related to behavioral primatology. One consequence of U.S. primatology's disciplinary location within anthropology was an emphasis on using primate behavior to understand human evolution. Washburn developed the idea that primates, including humans, shared a basic behavioral pattern - the "primate pattern"- that it was the job of the field primatologist to uncover. Primatologists trained in Europe and working within the framework of Tinbergen's "four questions" were less exclusively focused on questions of evolutionary function. In consequence, the emergence of sociobiology in the 1970s impacted these two schools quite differently.

The Rev. John Wesley, M.A. (1703-1791) is commonly remembered as the founder of the Methodist Church. But he also considered the medical treatment of his followers to be part of his pastoral responsibility. He collected and read widely from the medical works available to him from the 17th and 18th centuries, and selectively followed contemporary trends in the field. He did not do surgery, and passed on complicated cases to physicians. His first medical publication, in 1746, was entitled, A Collection of Receits for the Use of the Poor. This was expanded into Primitive Physick, which in the years 1747-91, was continually revised through 23 editions, containing what Wesley thought to be the best available remedies gathered from a variety of sources, many of which he himself tried. And while early electrical experimentation was taking place in the scientific world around him, Wesley also made medical experiments with electricity, publishing his results in Desideratum, 1760. Wesley also published tracts in response to contemporary controversies over the medical results of tea drinking, gout, nervous disorders, Onanism. His emphasis was often on preventative methods. His philosophy with respect to remedies was based on the principle that simple "receits" heal as well as complicated ones, that local botanical substances were cheaper and preferred to exotic foreign imports, and all substances he identified, when possible, by their English vernacular names instead of medical Latin, which naturally brought him into conflict with physicians and apothecaries.

The politics of tobacco control changed significantly in the early 1980s with the publication of evidence of the health effects of second-hand smoke. Subsequently, the tobacco industry began a coordinated and well-funded effort to discredit individuals and organizations claiming that second-hand smoke caused disease. The ability of the tobacco companies to wield their economic power to influence legislative politics is widely recognized; however, their strategies for credibly circulating scientific claims favorable to their interests has been less well studied. Newly accessible documentary materials provide the necessary level of detail for such a historical and sociological study of tobacco science politics. As a result of recent litigation against the tobacco industry, over 40 million pages of internal tobacco company and tobacco trade organization files have been made publicly available. Most of these documents are accessible electronically on an internet site sponsored by the American Legacy Foundation. Tobacco documents related to the management of the second-hand smoke problem were identified and analyzed to define the role of experts in the tobacco industry's response to the political and public health problem in the United States. The tobacco industry knew it had little credibility with the public and that scientists directly affiliated with the tobacco industry were unlikely to be believed. The tobacco industry, especially through its trade organization, the Tobacco Institute, developed a well-organized program for using scientific consultants as experts. The implications for understanding the relationship between expert knowledge and public health regulation will be discussed as well as the historiography of tobacco document research.

In a seminal paper Van Helden has shown that the invention of the refracting telescope came about in the Low Countries, most likely not much prior to 1608, when a Dutch lens-maker first applied to the States-General for a patent. He also considered earlier attempts at making a telescope, foremost by Digges and Bourne in Elizabethan England, to be unsuccesful and belonging to the prehistory of the telescope. However, more recently, Ronan and Rienitz have argued that Digges and Bourne were successful at making a primitive reflecting telescope. Considering the culturally omnipresent idea of telescopic magnification and the early availability of the optical components, concave mirrors and convex and concave lenses, in the 15th century, the delay of the invention of the telescope presents a problem of historical explanation. This paper attempts to explain this delay by placing the prehistory of the telescope in the context of 16th century optics, as appropriated by mathematical practitioners involved with the design of optical instruments. It will be shown that 16th century mathematical practitioners, in particular, Ettore Ausonio, introduced the practical notion of the point of inversion, not present in medieval optics, to describe image formation in concave spherical mirrors. Bourne and Della Porta subsequently transferred the point of inversion to image formation in convex lenses. In their hands, the point of inversion became the means to invent a reflecting telescope. Moreover, it is shown that reflecting telescopes were invented for purposes of visual representation, in particular, map-making with distant city views, evolving out of the painterly practice of the use of the camera obscura. Finally, it is argued that the reflecting telescope did not cause the take-off of the telescope, because of the incomplete control of the magnification of the instrument. Only in 1609 Galileo understood that magnification depended upon the focal length of the convex lens on the basis of his acquaintance with the knowledge embodied in a workshop procedure to test the curvature of lenses, used by contemporaneous spectacle-makers. Thus, by considering the telescope against the background of the practical knowledge in 16th century optics, it is shown why the telescope was invented at this particular moment of the history of instrumental practice.

Astronomical manuscripts were an essential part of the extensive production of copies of classical texts in the empire of Charlemagne and his successors. As part of this process, planetary diagrams were not only copied but created and often used as pedagogical tools, which circulated through both teaching and the lending and copying of texts with their diagrams. From four classical texts used by Carolingian scholars, we shall follow the circulation and some concurrent transformations of important planetary diagrams in the manuscripts. Pliny the Elder's description of planetary apsides inspired a Carolingian diagram whose versions multiplied with the manuscript copies that were made. Macrobius's commentary on Cicero's Dream of Scipio contained a canonical diagram of planetary order that experienced a remarkable transformation in its Carolingian copies. As scholars of the day invented diagrams for certain planetary phenomena reported in the astronomical textbook by Martianus Capella, a selection process, dictated by the circulation of certain manuscripts, led to a standard set of Carolingian diagrams to accompany this work. And finally, the Carolingian diagrams for the unequal lengths of the four seasons, found in manuscripts of Capella and of Calcidius's commentary on Plato's Timaeus, show certain difficulties in conceptualizing the explanation of this phenomenon. These four examples do not exhaust the sources. The circulation of planetary diagrams in manuscripts shows us the efforts and the effects of Carolingian attempts to clarify and expand astronomical knowledge.

After the 1745 Jacobite rebellion in Scotland, the British government realized that it knew more about the coasts and topography of its colonies than it did about its northern most kingdom. To solve this problem they commissioned several scientific explorations over the next three decades. One of the leading naturalists involved in this venture was Rev. John Walker, the future Professor of Natural History at the University of Edinburgh. Focusing on Walker, this paper will investigate the nature of eighteenth century geographical exploration in Scotland and how it was used to identify minerals that could be intellectually and commercially commodified back in Edinburgh. Using Walker's notes and letters, the first section will trace the two trips that he took into the Hebrides and Highlands and discuss how he identified 'fossils' that that would be of economic interest to the aristocracy and to the professors back in the Medical School. The second section then demonstrates how crossing the border of the Lowlands into the Hebrides and Highlands conferred scientific prestige upon him. I will show that the knowledge which he gained in his travels allowed him 1) to obtain patronage and positions within the Medical School and 2) to create a uniquely Scottish mineralogical classification system that he taught to medical students who would eventually go on to explore Australia, India and Africa.

Before his association with the X-Club, before his work with the Economist, before his friendship with literary figures like John Chapman, George Eliot and George Henry Lewes, Herbert Spencer was part of another social network - his family. His father and various colourful, prominent uncles dominated the young man, educating him in natural history and shaping his views on politics and religion. But members of Spencer's family also gave Spencer the desire to become an author. Following the widespread popularity of the political tracts written by his uncle, the maverick Reverend Thomas Spencer, Herbert published his first article at age sixteen, on crystallization. Other early articles examined topics as diverse as democratic politics, skew arches for bridges, geometric theorems and phrenology. When 23, Spencer left a promising career in railroad engineering, moving to London to make a living as a writer. But he failed, eventually having to borrow 5 pounds from his father for the sad trip home to Derby. A second attempt was more successful, however, as Spencer relied on family help and contacts in the world of radical democrats and religious Dissenters to gain sub-editorships - first in Birmingham and then at the Economist. Recent histories have illustrated some of the processes through which Victorian texts took shape, defining author and audience; this paper tries to build on these insights in a more personal arena. Spencer's desire to write and carve out a publishing career for himself was on the one hand a declaration of independence from his family, of autonomy - while also an admission of dependence upon it. Amidst a cultural atmosphere of growing Individualism, this was an intellectual and social tension Spencer was never able to reconcile.

The International Geographical Congress in London 1895 pointed to the Antarctic as a last remaining area of the world to be charted. This prompted a series of expeditions from various countries, some of them fired by nationalism others with a genuine internationalist ethos. The paper considers the two main waves of expeditions 1901-1905 and 1908-1914, analyzing their differences in character and focus as well as the context of a mounting nationalism that led to the serious rupture in international scientific cooperation with World War I. While the story of the International Research Council and Allied efforts to isolate German scientific communities is well known, little has been done to trace repercussions in Antarctic polar research. By fixing on the career of Otto Nordenskjold, who led the Swedish Antarctic Expedition 1901-1903, and his efforts to promote the International Polar Commission, some aspects of this question are addressed. Nordenskjold's position as a neutral will be contrasted to that of the captain of the earlier Belgica expedition, Lecointe, who played an important role on the side of the anti-German lobby. Apart from throwing light on the interplay and translation of internationalism and nationalism in agendas of exploration and research, attention will also be directed to the imagery used to domesticate icy landscapes beyond human frontiers, with or without the use of artificial life support systems.

Edward Pusey, the leader of Oxford's Tractarian party after 1844, articulated a conservative, Christian idea of a university throughout the reform debates of the 1850s, and opposed the awarding of honorary doctorates to Darwin and Huxley in 1870. Nonetheless, as an enduring and influential figure in university politics, he supported the growth of the sciences. Pusey's friends included the physician Henry Acland, and the physiologist George Rolleston. These friendships facilitated the growth of science at Oxford, even while they influenced the character and structure of science education. This close study of the topography of science and faith shows the importance of friendship in shaping a local culture of science in an age more typically characterized by conflict.

In the late 1930s, New York City's Maternity Center Association (MCA) believed a crisis existed in the concept of fatherhood. MCA's publications claimed that the father often felt frustrated because he was "the forgotten man" - "no longer husband and father but merely the man around the house." This leading institution in maternal health began offering classes for expectant fathers, arguing that such classes would not only lead to improved health for mothers and babies, but also allow men to feel once again feel like authorities in their households. Through an analysis of MCA's publications targeted at expectant fathers, this paper seeks to understand the type of messages a pioneering maternal health organization sent to its new audience, and why it sent those messages. For several decades, health professionals and social reformers had believed in the power of knowledge and education to transform women into good - and scientific - mothers. In the interwar years, MCA decided that fathers needed education too. MCA's publications for expectant fathers aimed at restructuring the family's attitudes toward pregnancy and birth. Because these books were geared toward men, they specifically addressed attitudes toward manhood. They tapped into men's supposed feelings of inferiority about birth and babies and tried to create a new, and yet very traditional, image of masculinity. The publications also promoted anxiety about the birth of a baby, saying terrible things would occur both for the mother and baby if they were not under expert care and for the family if the father was not adequately prepared for his new role.

In Greek Egypt, astrology had affiliations with astronomy and magic, as well as religion and philosophy. Until recently, however, we have not known much about the circumstances in which astrological consultations took place. Who were the practitioners? Where did they practice? What apparatus did they use? By drawing on a range of sources, including literary texts, papyri, engraved gems and mummy portraits, we can sketch a surprisingly detailed picture of the professional practice of astrology in the second century.

Historians of science often investigate the inaccessible: how transforming ideas originate. In addition to the curious mixtures of preparation and inspiration, of circumstance and social networking, of novel instrumentation and blind luck that have led to scientific breakthroughs, another contributing factor could be cited: the potential syntactic patterns, or figures of speech, available to the investigator who is forming ideas into language. 'Rhetorical Figures in Science' documents the presence of figure-driven argument forms in scientific arguments across different fields and centuries. A stronger case might be made not only for the role of figures in expressing ideas, but also for stimulating them in the first place. Seventeenth-century natural philosophers were thoroughly trained in dialectic and rhetoric, and the pedagogy of both these disciplines emphasized the rhetorical figures, not only for parsing classical texts and composing in Latin but also for dialectical exercises where framing opposite or reversed claims from an original proposition was common practice. Given this training, stylistic practice was intimately linked with rational procedure; polemicists at the time knew how to epitomize an argument in a figured proposition, a fixed syntactic pattern. They also knew how to support or "fill" a figure of speech representing a particular line of argument. Thus the figures could serve as prompts in the search for evidence and the design of experiments. Cases where a figure, the epitome of a line of argument, both influenced a claim and then the construction of supporting evidence can be found in the works of Kepler, Harvey, and Newton, among many others. The role of antithesis and antimetabole in the construction of Harvey's De Motu Cordis et Sanguinis is a case in point. The sources of Harvey's insight have been characterized as obscure; analogy (or metaphor) plays no significant role in the text. But antithesis and antimetabole do structure key passages in his prose, and, arguably, they directed his thinking and research. The need to support claims in the form of these figures guided his selection of existing evidence (e.g. from sixteenth-century discoveries of the anatomical differences between veins and arteries) and his search for new evidence (e.g. from vivisection and quantitative approximations of the amount of blood ejected in systole). Cases like Harvey's demonstrate the extent to which rhetorical training informed scientific discovery in a much deeper sense than is often appreciated.

This paper discusses the issue of science and informal empire by examining the activities of Victorian naturalists in China. The Opium War broke out in 1839. China was defeated and forced to open treaty ports for trade with the Western powers. The British were no longer confined to the city of Canton as they had been for more than eighty years. Not only did they have more freedom to travel in China, first at the treaty ports and later in the interior, but they established diplomatic and missionary institutions in China. The most important of them - the British Consular Service, the Chinese Maritime Customs, and the Protestant missionary organizations - provided talent for natural history research and became networks for scientific information. The research into China's natural history epitomized the characteristics of British research on China in general: it engaged in collecting and circulating an ever increasing amount of information and aimed at producing "factual" and "useful" knowledge about China. The Chinese, however, occupied central critical links in the networks. The Chinese converts of the missionary establishments and the Chinese staffs of the diplomatic institutions, for example, controlled knowledge and power that the naturalists were eager to utilize, such as their knowledge of language and geography. This paper discusses the complex pattern of domination and resistance between various British and Chinese groups in the enterprise of British scientific imperialism.

Beginning during World War II and continuing throughout the Cold War the bacterium Francisella tularensis was altered genetically and morphologically to enhance its ability to act as an airborne biological weapon. Especially adept at the respiratory invasion of higher mammals, checked through immediate vaccination and antibiotics, and adaptable to industrial storage and airborne release technologies, the pathogen met the design criteria of those scientists, engineers and physicians who created the first generation of American biological weapons. Experimental success in the manipulation and production of an organism more invasive, lethal and hardy than that found in nature, led to the industrial scale-up of this organism through the adoption of technological and instrumental practices found in chemical engineering, food and pharmaceutical production. The result was an industrially modified organism that could be used as a tactical or strategic airborne weapon that could incapacitate or kill specifically targeted civilian and military populations. Biological weapons in general, and F. tularensis in particular are of historiographic importance to those interested in the scientific and technological evolution of industrial microbiology in the 20th Century. This paper will examine the scientific and technological modifications made to the pathogen Francisella tularensis, a nonmotile, gram-negative coccobacillus, the etiological agent of rabbit fever, and one of the first biological weapon's mass-produced by the United States. Existing as both naturally occurring living organisms and as the modified products of manufacturing processes, biological weapons present the historian of science and technology with an excellent case study of the modern development and evolution of a biological technology for military purposes. Although there exists an ever-growing and thematically varied literature on the study of 'model organisms" and the standardization of organisms for specific scientific, technological, and medical purposes, historians and sociologists of science have invariably concentrated on academic settings with little investigation or comparison to industrial and military laboratories or in the material culture of industrial microorganisms. An examination of tularemia research unites the seemingly disparate histories of academic and industrial microbiology, the phenomenon of standardization of organisms for experimental use, and the simultaneous development of standardization processes and artifacts within the manufacturing sector, most specifically in the design and production of weapons. An examination of the scientific and technological modifications made to the pathogen allows insights into the process by which microbial organisms are weaponized for military use. In addition, this research examines the organizational and institutional relationships between various academic, industrial, and military researchers within the microbiological community in the United States. Particular attention will be paid to the institutional, political, and technological processes that created an airborne delivery system for dry and wet formulations of this biological weapon.

This essay examines the idea of 'sympathy' that pervaded European social theory and physiology by 1725. Throughout Europe, and especially in France and Scotland, scientists imagined that the concept could unite the two realms of discourse. Physiologists adopted the term to characterize the communication between the organs of a single human body, and between the sensory organs and the environment in which the body found itself. The same physiological communication that was imagined to account for somatic sympathy was used to explain the effects of the 'passions of the mind' on the sensations and impressions of the body. And the 'passions of the mind', these doctors noted, are very often infectious, demonstrating the unconscious communication between different people that is captured by the concept of 'social sympathy'. The ambition to unify social and medical theory, however, stumbled over an unstable definition of the term that introduced a number of metaphorical associations with much older ideas. As the eighteenth century drew to a close, sympathy became inextricably linked, especially in the British mind, to French revolutionary politics. Sympathy never became a distinct phenomenon with a stable definition, and it was never entirely purged of supernatural and even political associations.

The medical term "pre-menstrual syndrome," popularized as "PMS" in the 1980s and 1990s, is implicated in an amazing number of border crossings, as it has been used by women and men born in the United States after 1960. In an extensive series of oral history interviews, I found that young American women and men use the term "PMS" both in ways which refer to, and draw upon, medical definitions of the term "pre-menstrual syndrome," but also in ways which broaden and complicate the meaning of "PMS." It is a term which, depending on the circumstance, my interviewees explained ; could refer to anything having to do with menstruation; could refer to certain behavior of any women, even pre-menarcheal or menopausal, at any time; could be used by women or men, talking about women or men; and which could refer to anyone's "bad attitude" or bad mood. This paper will examine "PMS" as a term and an idea which women and men use to cross the boundary between the medical and the popular, the mentionable and the unmentionable, and various boundaries of gender, crossings which are notable given that the boundaries are so much more stable when the term is "menstruation." Complicating the feminist analyses of PMS by Emily Martin and others, it will also examine the implications of these boundary-crossings for structuring power relationships both between men and women and among women.

I have argued in Thomas Kuhn: A Philosophical History for Our Times (Chicago 2000) that Kuhn's work has marked a step backward from a conception of the history of science that is integrated not only with the other science studies disciplines but also with science itself. While this point is often valorized as having led to the 'autonomy' of the history of science as a field of inquiry, its costs have been the relative lack of influence that professional history of science has had on science popularisations written by scientists and science journalists. This is not a trivial point, since history remains the most important narrative form through which science is legitimated in contemporary society. Moreover, the autonomization of history of science as a field of inquiry has led to some rather distorted judgements about both the interest and knowledge that earlier philosophers and sociologists, as well as scientists, have had about historical matters. In some respects, 'Kuhnification' has even increased the difficulty of integrating history of science within general history. I shall critique these trends in response to the issues raised by previous panellists.

The printing of intaglio plates for book illustration and the various ways in which the impressions are combined with texts, which are printed in a different workshop using a different technology, has not yet been addressed by printing historians. This first study of the workshop practices involved, founded on external sources as well as new methods of analytical bibliography, shows how technology affects the interaction between text and image. This in turn influences how illustrations are deployed by authors. I will argue that the interpretation of an illustrated text depends on knowing how it was produced, and understanding the negotiations and economic relations existing among authors, artists, print-makers, book-printers and publishers. Ultimately this study may lead to an understanding of the revolution in book-illustration that took place between the woodcut illustrations used by Vesalius (1543) and the engravings with which Robert Hooke illustrated his Micrographia (1665).

The Chicago School of sociology used its hometown as a "laboratory" (as they called it) for the study of urban life and structures. But what did it mean, exactly, to make a city into a lab--in the context of their various empirical studies of hobos, gangs, Gold Coasts and slums? I explore the following dilemma, one that is inherent in any research based on a distinctively bounded field-site: how can the analyst claim the a study of THIS place is germane for understanding practices and processes in any OTHER place? This, of course, is the old Weberian bugbear of "generalizing from a single case"--but now given a geographical spin. How can the immanent uniqueness of a place be overcome as it becomes a site for the discovery of transcendent scientific truths? The abundant limitations of "the field" are overcoming by fashioning it into a lab.

Crossing the border from middle into old age has long been deemed a significant moment in life; physiological transformations accompany changes in social, sexual, and even gender identity. Graying hair, failing memory, dimming sight, loss of teeth, and waning sexual desire-- these are the tell-tale signs of the coming of old age listed by Sylvanus Stall in his 1901 book, What a Man of 45 Ought to Know. A loss of sexual desire, and desirability, were typical symptoms of 'the climacteric,' a general physical and psychological crisis both men and women were said to experience at the onset of old age. My paper will examine the medical and scientific construction of male and female sexuality at the climacteric (which later collapsed into hormonally-defined menopause) around the turn of the last century. For example, there were often complications when cultural norms and physiological theories, along with notions of what is "natural" and what is "old," encountered the particulars of human existence, and medical literature warned that climacteric men and women might become hyper-sexual and/or perverted at this time. Medical discussion about the climacteric highlights how central and powerful was the equation between old age and loss of fertility, and further challenges the theory that a 'two-sex' model dominated during the nineteenth century. Furthermore, debates surrounding the male climacteric provide an historical instance of the female body being taken as the 'norm' while medical professionals attempted to diagnose a parallel syndrome for the male. In the process, both continuing sexual desire and the loss of it became symptoms of a pathological 'climacteric crisis' in need of medical attention.

Perhaps the most crucial primary document for the formation of the Russian chemical community is a German scientific periodical, and a relatively marginal one at that. For most of the 1860s, the primary outlet for chemical publications by Russian chemists was German -- German in language, German in provenance. Given the absence of a Russian-language chemical journal between the folding of Sokolov and Engel'gardt's Chemical Journal in the late 1850s and the foundation of the Russian Chemical Society's Journal in 1868, the growing community of Russian chemists were forced to publish in foreign-language journals. Although there was a wide spectrum of possible venues, Russian chemists disproportionately and almost exclusively patronized the Zeitschrift für Chemie, which was founded by an editorial collective around August KekulÈ in Heidelberg in 1858 but soon came under the personal and complete control of Heidelberg Privatdozent Emil Erlenmeyer. Erlenmeyer's peculiar publication practices and at-times offensive editorial "commentaries" alienated many of the leading chemists of Europe -- but not the Russians. His particular closeness with the Russian postdoctoral community in Heidelberg in the early 1860s (he was in several important cases, such as D. I. Mendeleev's, the only German chemist socialized with), enabled Erlenmeyer to establish a network of communication that helped develop both the nascent Russian chemical community and his journal. This Russian-German connection was further reinforced when the Zeitschrift left Erlenmeyer and Heidelberg for Göttingen and an editorial board involving German-Russian chemical prodigy Friedrich Beilstein. Russian publications in German did diminish somewhat after 1868, but the importance of the Zeitschrift lasted long beyond its folding in 1871. The particular editorial practices and peculiarities embedded in the periodical by Erlenmeyer served as primary exemplars for the Russians when they were constructing their own professional society and professional journal. Uncovering the processes of domestic formation of the scientific discipline of chemistry in Russia, therefore, requires an investigation of the oddities of journal publication in Heidelberg. What made the Zeitschrift unusual for German scientific literature thus has strong implications for what made the Russian chemical community distinct in the second half of the nineteenth century.

How did biologists manage, coordinate, and practice biology in the Netherlands East Indies, a society that had no tradition of universities or scientific academies? By examining the scientific culture of the Botanical Gardens at Buitenzorg, I show how biologists shaped their discipline within the constraints of a colonial regime. In my paper, I argue that Melchior Treub--director of the Gardens between 1880 and 1909--built the biology discipline around bureaucratic practices characteristic of colonial society. He shaped colonial biology by laying an empirical basis of nature with a herbarium, a biological archive of the plants of the colony. The herbarium held together a scientific network that included European botanists, colonial bureaucrats, foresters, and export crop cultivators. Treub managed access to this archive and controlled the direction of research from his desk. Because Treub could not tap into the preexisting authority of universities or scientific academies, he exerted power through a new scientific culture of bureaucracy. By holding a virtual monopoly on natural knowledge, epitomized by his success in transforming the Botanical Gardens into the Department of Agriculture in 1905, Treub retained control of the discipline without capitulating to the needs of the colonial state. Coordinated studies of ecology and taxonomy became the basis of biological knowledge, both 'pure' and 'applied.' Treub published a half-dozen scientific journals and invited a steady stream of Europeans to study at the visitors' lab; these contacts boosted his authority as the colony's preeminent scientist. The colonial government was impressed by his standing, but was most sympathetic when Treub and his colleagues acted like bureaucrats. Dutch colonial biology developed in the compromise between bureaucratic practices and European ideals of science.

From the cold war to the triumph of capitalism a rich tradition of popular science writing has interpreted human behavior and society in the light of the changing constructs through which biologists have viewed animal behavior and animal societies. Yet surprisingly little attention has been paid to distinguishing the various different research traditions that generated these, often conflicting, accounts of animal nature and by extension human nature. This paper approaches that issue through an examination of the divergence during the 1960s between ethological work by zoologists at the Madingley field station near Cambridge and ethological work within Oxfordís Department of Zoology. These two groups began with a strong sense of shared disciplinary identity derived from the continental ethologists. W.H Thorpe brought what was then the Madingley Ornithological Field Station into being as part of his protracted campaign to bring the ideas and research practices of Konrad Lorenz and Niko Tinbergen to Britain. Tinbergen himself, of course, established ethology at Oxford. The emergence of differences of emphasis between the two loci of research was reflected in the predominantly different responses at those loci to the emergence at the end of the decade of a new conception of the study of animal behavior as sociobiology, and in differences in their self-generated narratives of how animal behavior studies ceased to be predominantly pursued within the disciplinary identity of ethology.

Communicating Science by Alan Gross, Joseph Harmon, and Michael Reidy, recently published by Oxford University Press, is part of the second wave of studies, one that is fully sensitive to the integration of the various disciplines that enhance our knowledge of how science works. Its co-authorship is a sign of this integration; its authors are, respectively, a rhetorician, a science editor, and a historian of science. The central theme of the book is that the communicative practices of science in France, the German States, and England became over time an effective and efficient machine for conveying an evolving cognitive complexity. In the book, four trends are emphasized: an increasing focus of style on the objects of science, the development of a master finding system, an increasing predominance of theory in scientific argument, and the integration of text and visuals. The authors see these trends, not as extraneous to, but as part of the history of science. In my paper, I will focus on one of these themes, which is also a conference theme: I will suggest that an understanding of the evolving function of scientific illustration is a necessary condition for understanding the history of science. I will use as my example an illustration entirely familiar to my audience: Darwin's single diagram from Origin of Species. Although no one can claim to be familiar with the vast expanse of Darwin literature, I am unaware of any commentary on the illustration, an anomaly I hope to correct. I will trace the illustration's origin from the Notebooks and show that it is a member of a species familiar in 19th-century scientific communication: the visual as the embodiment of a theory. I will show that Darwin's illustration so embodies his theory that it subordinates visual to text; in effect, once we understand this illustration, we understand the essentials of the theory. In a sense, then, the illustration and Darwin's text join to form Darwin's argument; in another sense, the illustration, understood by means of Darwin's text, constitutes Darwin's argument.

By the late twentieth century the rhesus macaque was "the monkey version of a laboratory rat," (Blum, The Monkey Wars) used for decades in research in biology, medicine, behavior, and even space flight. How did the rhesus monkey become a laboratory animal, and why the rhesus rather than some other nonhuman primate? This paper addresses these questions through the history of the first primate colony established for physiological research, at the Carnegie Institution of Washington in the 1920s. Primates were required at the CIW's Department of Embryology to provide a model for comparison to human reproductive physiology and embryological development. Carl Hartman, who had for many years studied the reproductive biology of the opossum, was recruited to develop and study the rhesus colony. The rhesus colony became a useful tool for researchers at the embryology department who, among other things, made the first complete description of the development of a primate from the one-cell stage. In terms of the investment of resources it required and its value as a tool, the colony was comparable to equipment like a big telescope for the CIW's astronomers. It became part of an expanding infrastructure of materials needed to do science. Drawing on the work of scholars such as Clarke, Kohler, and Latour, this paper discusses the Carnegie rhesus colony in the context of the organization of laboratory work and the natural history of laboratory animals, and of other primate and mammalian animal colonies established to supply laboratories in the first half of the twentieth century.

The intellectual and commercial success of Abraham Ortelius' Theatrum Orbis Terrarum (1570) has greatly obscured its contemporary rival, De Jode's Speculum Orbis Terrarum, (1578). I will attempt to reconstruct the social and economic context in which these rival atlases were compiled and published, and I will argue that Ortelius' success and De Jode's failure can be explained by their relative positions within, and manipulation of, Antwerp's cultural networks. Success was measured partly by the way in which one group could maintain a 'high culture' image at the expense of others who were demarcated as outsiders producing 'low culture'. In this light, I will discuss a previously unknown copy of De Jode's Speculum, which is integrated with the third supplement to Ortelius' Theatrum, analysing its implications for our understanding of the reception and use of the rival publications. In conclusion, my paper will attempt to throw new light on the market for map printing in Antwerp in the 1570s, and on the ways in which cartographic knowledge was accumulated, distributed and used.

The extent of Charles Darwin's use of an extensive correspondence with scientists, physicians, and non-scientists to obtain information and evidence for his scientific work has been well demonstrated through the Darwin Calendar of Correspondence (now available on line) and through the publication of the first twelve volumes of his letters. Less well known is the degree to which his entire family circle became involved in his scientific enterprises. Using Emma Darwin's letters, her diary, and Darwin's notes along with his correspondence, this paper will detail the engagement of Darwin's extended family, Wedgwoods as well as Darwins, as observers, experimenters, editors, and, on occasion, as secretaries and assistants during the final twenty years of his life. In addition, Darwin's encouragement of each of his three oldest sons in the pursuit of science, both successfully (in the case of George and Francis) and less successfully (in the case of William), and his suggestions about their careers and publications will also be described.

This paper will explore the way in which 'theory and practice' entered into the professional strategies of Renaissance engineers, and why the topos has more to do with the management of people and machines than any proposed relationship between something like 'science and technology.' When explored as an actor's category, the division between 'theory and practice' becomes muddled, and it is difficult to map it onto a neat mental versus manual function. Rather, many engineers deployed these terms to highlight their own skills and qualifications to serve as mediators between patrons and work crews. The divergent worlds of 'theory and practice' were introduced in order for the engineer to cross between them. Nevertheless, many sixteenth- and seventeenth-century engineers did self-consciously cultivate a connection with philosophy. I will investigate these themes in terms both of conventional engineering practices and of what I would call 'the big idea'--large undertakings that involved commissions to engineers promising great returns or novel effects. I would suggest that we treat 'theory and practice' only as an actor's category located in particular contexts. We can thereby reveal the much messier, more interesting relationships that existed between the 'new philosophy,' the progress of the arts, and large-scale technological initiatives in the early modern period.

Spectroscopy of the late 19th and early 20th century is a prime example of a visual science culture. Support for this claim is drawn not only from the practices of spectroscopic research and teaching, but also from the results of a prosopographic analysis of the educational backgrounds of several dozen key practitioners. They took utmost care in optimizing their visual resources (e.g., lithographic plates, photographs, atlases), and continually improved their techniques for detection (e.g., color sensitization for spectrum photography) and reproduction of these images in publications. They showed great versatility in visual pattern recognition (e.g., in the analysis of spectral series and bands), took great pains to inculcate such skills in rigorous hands-on training, and exhibited true connoisseurship concerning aesthetic aspects of their representations. Finally, inspired by Martin Jay's concept of 'scopic regime' I define what I would like to call 'spectro-scopic domains' and explore the implications of this notion.

Without an audience a zoo does not make much sense. Yet while interest in the history of the zoo has increased steadily in the past decades the spectators have received relatively little attention. A very interesting intersection of science and the public is still to be researched. What did the spectators actually see when they looked into the cages? Respectively: who was trying to define what the spectators should see? What were the expectations of spectators and "zoo management" and how did they change over time? The case of the Schoenbrunn Menagerie offers interesting answers to these questions. In the course of the 19th century the number of visitors increased steadily. Unlike most other zoos there were hardly any social and no financial restrictions in Vienna. The imperial institution was non-profit oriented; until 1922 no entrance fee was charged. Nevertheless an increasing need to cater for the public's taste for entertainment was felt. This sometimes collided with the intentions of popularizers of science and "educators of the people" trying to teach the spectators about the animal world and to draw moral lessons from it. The source material also allows to distinguish different kinds of audiences. Children resp. school classes, university students, artists but also "educated" and "uneducated" spectators were addressed and dealt with in different ways. Dealing with the public was also linked with the attempt to discipline its behaviour - by no means always successfully. "Do not feed the animals"-signs were usually ignored.

This paper analyses various scientific activities in zoological gardens which were intended to react to the challenge of Hagenbeck's suggestive environmental display of wild animals in Hamburg-Stellingen. The economic success of Hagenbeck's "animal paradise" provoked both harsh criticism of his "incorrect" and entertainment-oriented landscape representations of wild animals and a large-scale research project investigating the natural behaviour of animals in zoos. After the First World War several zoo directors in Germany and Otto Antonius in Austria propagated the re-scientification of the zoological garden including its role within public education. This entailed a new scientific and aesthetic interpretation of the adequate environment for displaying wild animals. Due to its architectonic limitations as part of the baroque ensemble of Schˆnbrunn castle, the Vienna zoo more than others faced the demand for a functional rather than visual interpretation of space and time in small enclosures. This made a functional understanding of animal territory the most pressing scientific question. But it was also the personality of its director Antonius, an early member of the NSDAP, which made the Vienna zoo one of the centres of a scientific network for animal study in captivity in a psychological perspective. Being trained as a palaeontologist he was a renowned expert in functional and morphological adaptations of animals in the course of domestication. Antonius' friendship with Konrad Lorenz proved of particular influence on Lorenz' specific interpretation of the social and political demands which the young discipline of ethology should meet. It will be shown how Antonius' concept of territory completed his concept of psychological constitution of wild animals and the transitions between wild and domesticated animals. This background is also crucial to properly assess some notorious papers by Lorenz written during the 1940s.

This paper will look at the intertwined problems of the gaze, voyeurism and knowledge in the history of anatomy. Focusing on three-dimensional anatomical wax models and dried natural specimens developed for 18th-century medical schools and curiosity cabinets, the paper will look at problems of gender and voyeurism within the medical gaze at the body. Special attention will be paid to the models known as "anatomical Venuses" (life-size models of dissected women reclining on beds), to the differences between female and male models, and the resulting the gendering of knowledge about the body. Looking as well at later models developed for 19th-century traveling exhibitions (which force the viewer to bend over, peer under a nightgown and between the legs of models of women giving birth) the paper will follow the move of wax anatomy into the realm of mass education/entertainment, where the intertwining of titillation and education became increasingly problematic. Based on recent research in a number of medical school and natural history collections in France, Italy and Austria for a book in progress, the paper will present images of both wax models and dried natural specimens from those collections. It will offer a glimpse into a moment in anatomical history when that history sought to make lessons about sexual difference and found the border between observation and voyeurism to be permeable. It will offer a reflection on the problem of a medical vision that, in the 18th and 19th centuries, came to see and thus to theorize men?s and women?s bodies in profoundly different ways.

The "German Atlantic Expedition" aboard the Meteor (1925-1927) was a prestigious project of the "Notgemeinschaft der Deutschen Wissenschaft", the German association promoting the sciences after World War I. The oceanographic expedition became famous for systematically sounding and charting a large part of the South Atlantic Ocean's floor. The paper argues that the endeavor was deeply embedded in and promoted by the political situation of loss and spatial confinement in Weimar Germany. The expedition's conceptualization and representation of a large oceanic volume not only gave evidence of Germany's unbroken scientific excellence, but also acquired meaning within the German after-war struggles to regain lost colonial territory. The Meteor's depth charts created public space for the revaluation of the German nation by visually constituting a new spatial realm of German influence. The paper investigates the production and function of oceanographic visual depth evidence by tracing how profiles and maps developed from single depth measurements into coherent and authentic pictures, which allowed for conceptualizing the abstract data volume of oceanographic space in terms of newly procured national grounds.

From the mid-1930s onward, Australian physicists, though few in number, sought to join the exciting new field of research then opening up in nuclear physics. Such research was already, however, largely based on the use of particle accelerators, and to acquire one created demands for money and resources on a scale unprecedented in Australian scientific experience. In this paper, I trace the early, largely unsuccessful Australian attempts to build accelerators or to acquire them by other means. I consider the difficulties that Australian physicists faced in this connection and the strategies by which they sought to overcome them. In so doing, I also consider the more general question that emerged at this period, of access by the world's smaller scientific nations to "big science", as exemplified by the requirements of high-energy nuclear physics research.

A rapidly-growing body of recent scholarship (e.g., Cartwright, Uebel, Cat, Nemeth, Stadler, Howard) has reminded us that the "left wing" of the Vienna Circle-Neurath, Hahn, Frank, et al.-once argued for a systematic role for social and political values in theory choice, and that debates over their claims loomed in the background of other notable episodes in the history of logical empiricism, such as the protocol-sentence debate, the promotion of the idea of rational reconstruction, and the introduction of the context-of-discovery/context-of-justification distinction for the purpose of delimiting the scope of inquiries to be regarded as a proper part of the discipline of the philosophy of science. Less work has been done on John Dewey's comparably politically engaged theory of science, but it is clear that he, too, envisaged a science that is conscious of its political character serving to promote progressive social ends. The new scholarship has also documented the various factors involved in the disappearance of this left-wing perspective in post-World-War-II philosophy of science, including philosophical debates over the objectivity of science and the properly epistemic grounds for theory choice, the promotion of the idea that a "professional" discipline of the philosophy of science must be a purely formal, socially-disengaged discipline, and the pressures of McCarthyism in the 1950s. The absence of the left-wing perspective after World War II had important implications for the development of the philosophy of science in the latter half of the twentieth century. Thus, one might imagine that a discipline still seriously considering the role of social and political values in theory choice would have more hospitable to a place for sociological perspectives within the philosophy of science and would have been more welcoming of feminist concerns. The present paper aims to resume the conversation about social and political values in theory choice, starting with a discussion of Neurath's development of a broadly Duhemian, underdeterminationist picture of science for the purpose of theorizing a role for such values, without compromise to the objectivity of science. Questions to be addressed include: (1) What kind of objectivity, if any, is there in a science where the underdetermination and, hence, the employment of social and political factors, potentially goes all the way down to the level of the protocol sentences? (2) Are concepts like 'belief,' 'acceptance,' and 'warranted assertability' the most helpful tools for characterizing the variety of attitudes one adopts toward a scientific theory, especially when considering the manner in which scientific theories are employed in the context of social, political, or economic policy-making or the context of social action? (3) How are all such attitudes toward scientific theory to be understood when they are viewed as characterizing not a disembodied knower but a social community? How are we to define and delineate the relevant communities?

In the late seventeenth century, French Jesuit missionaries transplanted a distinctively French and distinctively academic brand of scientific work from Paris to Beijing. In seeking continued recognition from the French scientific community for their collective botanical, cartographical, and astronomical investigations, French Jesuits in late imperial China anticipated later claims that provincial and Parisian academicians together comprised ìun seul Corpsî. Yet the difficulties of sustaining this global alliance proved beyond the means of French Jesuit missionary resources. This paper analyzes the failure of the French Jesuit mission in late imperial China to maintain its scientific credibility with Parisian academicians.

Einstein's theory of relativity was introduced into China by Chinese scholars educated in Japan in 1917, and it became widely disseminated in the early 1920s. By the end of 1920s, Chinese physicists had successfully assimilated relativity. Bertrand Russell's lectures in China and Albert Einstein's planned visit to Beijing early in the 1920s helped the dissemination, but the major contribution to China's reception of relativity came from a group of Chinese scientists educated in the West. The transmission of this great scientific theory demonstrates multiple sources for China's scientific development in the early 20th century, in which scholarship from Japan, Germany, Britain, and the United States all played significant roles.

In 1947, Newsweek announced that a "shadowy figure" was beginning to emerge from the ubiquitous public opinion polls of the period: the "American Majority Man." Social scientific techniques--their particular modes of aggregating and representing information--were a recognizable feature of mid-twentieth-century life. Social data conveyed through charts, graphs, and statistics flooded media networks in these years, helping to fashion a public that was constituted by, and saw itself reflected in, the composite responses of anonymous individuals. This paper examines the role mass-consumed statistics, specifically those of the Gallup Polls and the Kinsey Reports, played in debates over the shape and trajectory of postwar American society. In an era of heightened awareness of totalitarian propaganda and manipulative advertising tactics, some critics feared that quantified means and mediums were themselves becoming normative--the "bandwagon effect" and "statistical morality" creating a population of other-directed individuals, keenly aware of social norms and eager to conform to them. Others worried about the impersonal and bureaucratic nature of survey data, since social scientific knowledge production seemed to privilege the national over the local, the collective over the individual, and the average over the unique. Drawing upon George Gallup and Alfred Kinsey's public statements and private correspondence, the paper further investigates the strategies that producers of social data employed to quiet these doubts, from "humanizing" their statistics to touting their democratic potential. In so doing, it aims to illuminate the conjunction of two stories normally told separately: the history of social scientific techniques and postwar formulations of mass society. Ultimately, the paper argues that new modes of social scientific representation were crucial in creating the appearance, and perhaps even the experience, of "the mass."

This presentation explores the relation between theories of natural magic and early scientific discourse, using Giordano Bruno and Francis Bacon as exemplars of each approach to language. Bruno's magical system sought mastery over angelic forces; a crucial aspect of his natural magic involved finding a 1:1 correspondence between words and supernatural powers. Bruno's conception of rhetoric articulated together words, desire, and memory in sharp contrast to the developing scientific model of discourse, which attempted to purify language by consigning desire and eloquence to the realm of poetry. The development of a 'plain style' at the inception of the scientific revolution stressed the ideal of a 1:1 correspondence between words and things. Studying the demise of magical conceptions of language promises to reveal an important connection between magical and scientific discourse; this presentation inquires into the basis of similarities and differences between magical and scientific approaches to language.

Compared to German and American scientists during World War II, little has been studied on their Japanese counterparts and moral issues related to them. In this paper, I discuss Nishina Yoshio's attitude toward the war and the moral issue that he had, by examining his writings on science and war from 1940 to 1945. Nishina Yoshio is a Japanese theoretical and experimental physicist, who was pivotal in establishing a research tradition of modern physics in Japan since the 1930s. Being Japan's supreme authority of atomic physics, he headed Japan's principal nuclear power project during the war. Since immediately before the Pacific War till the end of the war, Nishina wrote extensively how "pure science" could benefit Japan and its war effort. Some might see Nishina as a willing collaborator of Japan's fascist regime, who whole-heartedly tried to help its aggression through science and technology. Others see Nishina's involvement in the war as a disguise of a peace-loving cosmopolitan scientist, who tried to protect Japan's science and young scientists from the war. As Mark Walker did about scientists in Nazi Germany, I attempt to capture Nishina between these two extremes, in a spectrum of the "shades of gray." Through critical examination of Nishina's popular writing from 1940 to 1945, I show how Nishina was trapped between his nationalistic sense of obligation and responsibility to work for his country, and his self-identity as a man of "pure science," whose raison-d'Ítre was the pursuit of knowledge about nature. Nishina's wartime propaganda for "pure science" and science mobilization were his attempts to reconcile these two. Nishina's own moral problem was, not whether he should be involved in the war or not, but whether he could contribute to the country through "pure science." Through his wartime writings, which often glorified Japan's aggression but also emphasized the need to improve Japan's (inferior, according to Nishina) science and technology, Nishina tried to curb Japan's tendency toward irrational nationalism and attempted to better the situation of his country, in terms of both war and science. Nishina's wartime activities were, therefore, ambivalent: On the one hand, Nishina's emphasis on the need of science and technology in war tacitly undermined Japan's mythological ideology and implied, in the middle of the war, Japan's almost certain defeat. On the other, Nishina's call for effective mobilization and organization of science and his (sincere, though futile) involvement in wartime weapons development (his nuclear power project, in particular) were nothing but war collaboration.

Similar to other agencies of colonial expansion, medicine permeated multiple political and sociological layers--both at home and abroad--during the creation of the French colonial empire. Within the volumes of medical discourse, representation of the Vietnamese served as a barometer for metropolitan politics, reflecting the constantly changing French self-perception during the turbulent decades from the beginning of World War I to the defeat at Dien Bien Phu. Medical texts, as a forum for 'valid' scientific research, codified the tensions between alterity and 'normalcy' within colonial thought, presenting the dissected 'Other' to an eager public. The bodies of their indochinoise subjects were a tableau in which not only the political insecurities of France could be etched, but also served to assuage fears about the French place in the 'order of things.'

It is well known that Sir Humphry Davy, together with his wife, her maid and his assistant, Michael Faraday, travelled on the Continent from the autumn of 1813 until the spring of 1815, a period which included the final days of Napoleon's empire. The extraordinary event of Britain's leading chemist visiting the laboratories of the country with which Britain had been at war for twenty years has been noted either with no further comment or something facile such as suggesting that it showed the sciences were never ar war. Despite this visit being constantly referred to in the literature on both Davy and Faraday, the precise mechanism by which the visit was arranged and conducted has never been studied from the point of view of the states involved. This paper will examine the attitudes and behaviour of the British and French governments in permitting and indeed facilitating this journey. It will thus cast light on official attitudes towards science in Britain and France, towards the role of science in war at that time, and the role of travel in developing scientific knowledge and networks.

Reading the famous 1911 article on the foundations of statistical mechanics by Ludwig Boltzmann's student Paul Ehrenfest and his wife Tatiana (born Tatyana Alekseyevna Afanas'eva), one is easily left with the impression that Boltzmann changed his tune about irreversibility in response to Josef Loschmidt's 1876 objection to the H-theorem. In 1872 Boltzmann had derived this theorem and had used it to recover the irreversibility expressed in the second law of thermodynamics. In 1877 in response to Loschmidt he essentially just showed that the vast majority of all possible microstates of a system correspond to the system's equilibrium state. In combination with the (dubious) assumption that a system spends equal amounts of time in all possible microstates, this amounts to a derivation of irreversibility that does not rely on the H-theorem. Is that what Boltzmann intended? According to Ehrenfest biographer Martin Klein he did. A comparison of his papers of 1872 and 1877, however, shows that Klein's reading is extremely uncharitable. Was Boltzmann's reaction to Loschmidt's objection as crude as Klein suggests? Did Ehrenfest believe it was that crude? I do not have answers to these questions. (I used to, but, in the words of Bob Dylan, "I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.") What I want to do in my talk is to sketch how one would go about finding such answers, taking to heart some of the hard-won lessons of the debate between Martin Klein, Thomas Kuhn, and others over a similar question raised by Klein's treatment of Max Planck's 1900 work on black-body radiation. The central problem, it seems to me, is to find the right mix of textual analysis (Kuhn's forte), a broad grasp of the work of the scientist under consideration and its reception by the physics community then and now (Klein's forte), and a host of other factors before one can produce a plausible and informative historical reconstruction.

Everyone today is worried about piracy, be it of software, pharmaceuticals, music, novels, or movies. As intellectual theft - and in particular as such theft facilitated by technology - piracy is a practice that invokes major questions about the proper relationship between commerce and creativity. But why is it that we refer to acts of misappropriation as piracies? On reflection it is not at all obvious why our term for thefts of ideas should be one derived from nautical villainy. I therefore want to explore the development of the concept itself. Not least, such an exploration casts light on the history of boundaries between commercial, legal and intellectual civility: how those boundaries have been understood in past cultures, how violated, and to what effect. In particular, my story focuses on the conjunction of scientific, industrial and political revolutions at the end of the seventeenth century. Piracy arose at that time out of a struggle to redefine the relations between creativity, craft community, and royal authority in a newly commercial age. It reflected a process in which boundaries between the state, authors, and commerce came increasingly to the fore - boundaries, however, that were seen as already violated even as they came into existence, and that were defined partly in terms of that violation. Piracy denoted this novel form of transgression. The concept's longevity is in this light therefore appropriate. It is effectively a proxy for one of the defining characteristics of Western modernity.

Science with practical implications was clearly accorded higher status in 19th century America than in Western Europe, and, in fact, one could argue that practicality was a primary characteristic of American science in the antebellum period. Scientists and engineers alike commonly claimed that their work constituted 'Practical Science.' They used this phrase to justify the importance of their research to one another, as well as to politicians and the public. Practical science held great promise precisely because it could inform activities outside the traditional intellectual purview of science, from construction to apothecary to agricultural to surveying practices. Using the research programs of the Franklin Institute as exemplars, this paper will investigate the phenomenon of practical science. I will examine the multiple roots of the tradition of practical science--from the blurred distinction between science and engineering to the role of science in nation building to the common American notion of the 'practical.' I will also consider the declining status of practical science, as it came under attack, beginning in the 1850s, as intellectually inferior, applied science, and 'mere' engineering.

A rigorous science of designing reserve networks to conserve biodiversity emerged in the early 1980s within conservation biology. Central to its emergence was the introduction of a heuristic principle, dubbed "complementarity" in 1991. At the iterative step in a prioritization of areas for inclusion into a reserve network complementarity requires selecting areas that contain the most inadequately protected biodiversity surrogates. This contrasted with other early methods that maximized richness (or number) of species (or other biodiversity surrogates) at the iterative step. This paper describes the historical setting and technological innovations of the 1970s and 1980s that made the introduction of the principle of complementarity possible, and traces its fundamental impact on the conceptual framework of conservation biology. During the formative period of the 1970s and 1980s intuitive approaches to reserve network design were replaced by algorithms that applied adequacy criteria mechanically. This change depended crucially on the increased availability and sophistication of microcomputers in the early 1980s. Only with their use was it possible to compile, manipulate, and analyze extensive data sets of the distributions of species for areas of conservation interest. Contemporaneously, Geographical Information Systems (GIS), a relatively new technology that emerged in the 1970s, aided in this recognition by facilitating the graphical representation of those distributions. Thus, a confluence of technological innovations was as important to developing a science of reserve network design as the increasing social concern with the rapid destruction of biodiversity. As the innovations were incorporated into the practice of conservation biology the essential role of complementarity in reserve network design became clear and, consequently, the principle had four independent introductions in 1983, 1984, 1988, and 1990. After discovery, the principle transformed the methodology of conservation biology. The use of complementarity-based algorithms and supportive software such as GIS incited a change in data collection methods. The use of summary statistics, for instance simple counts of the number of species in an area, was demonstrated to be inadequate. Instead, lists of the species within areas had to be collected to ensure each area included in a reserve network contributes maximally to representing a region's biodiversity. The algorithms also helped show that knowledge of the specific characteristics of areas was indispensable to achieving conservation goals effectively. This marked a decisive shift from conservation biology as a science driven predominately by ecological theories such as island biogeography and meta population ecology, which abstracted from the particularity of individual areas, to one more driven by area-specific data.

Beginning most explicitly with the American involvement in the Korean War, and continuing unabated until 1970, the demand for Ph.D.-trained physicists in the United States followed a particular Cold War logic of "manpower" and requisitions. The war-fashioned logic received repeated tellings from senior physicists, university administrators, government commissions, individual senators, and newspaper reporters from across the country -- many of whom argued that young graduate students in physics constituted the nation's most precious resource. Graduate students themselves sometimes noted at the time the specifically war-related reasons for their education. The purported need to train ever-larger numbers of physics graduate students in times of war as in times of uneasy peace was often used to justify all of the structural rearrangements associated with "big science," from the huge federally-subsidized budgets to the factory-sized equipment. For many of these academic physicists and government bureaucrats, the key to "big science" in the United States after World War II was big enrollments.

Elizabethan England can be characterized by a dichotomy: it was a small,remarkably isolated nation with a single, embattled colony whose poets, playwrights, and authors cast it as an imperial powerhouse. This paper will analyze vernacular literature, particularly books of secrets, from the last two decades of the sixteenth century and focus on the occult mentalities that helped to shape the English imperial imagination. It will also strive to complicate Keith Thomas' assertion that magical and occult thinking had already ceded ground in the sixteenth century by showing that these intellectual traditions proved very powerful tools for the print construction of an imperial nation.

Hubert Lyautey, the French conqueror of Morocco, asserted in 1933 that 'the physician is the primary and most effective of our agents of penetration and pacification.' Perhaps no group followed this directive more closely than French psychiatrists, who established a beachhead of hospitals and clinics across Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia in the course of the 1930s. Practitioners argued that colonialism not only presented the possibility of bringing modern science into new domains, but also mandated that the indigenous population 'feel the benefits of today's medicine.' Colonial psychiatrists thus saw themselves as occupying the front lines in a struggle to facilitate the march of European biomedicine across the obstacle of native beliefs about the origins of mental illness. Yet North African psychiatric patients often clung to these beliefs in active defiance against classification and treatment within European paradigms. By exploring the issue of psychiatric diagnosis from both doctors' and patients' perspectives, this paper argues that medical encounters in colonial North Africa frequently provided a stage for contests over the political and scientific authority of the colonizer. Whereas recent scholarship often suggests that the colonies served as experimental laboratories for testing European research designs, this case provides a useful corrective by highlighting the voices of indigenous populations and illustrating how the implementation of science in the colonies entailed constant negotiation on the part of colonizer and colonized.

I am writing a cultural history of causality in Europe and America that focuses on the act of murder and is documented by murder novels combined with major developments in science and systems of thought. Since 1830 thinking about the causes of human behavior moves in the direction of increasing specificity, multiplicity, complexity, probability, and uncertainty. The paper will briefly survey my argument and focus on a major evidentiary problem I had combining the history of science and literature to support it, because increasing specificity implies a kind of progress according to the standards of scientific research, and while one can reasonably claim that the history of science, and especially the history of medicine, makes progress in understanding the causes of ever more numerous and precise aspects of observed phenomena, one cannot argue that causal understanding in novels progresses, that understanding of the motives for murder in Dreiser or Delillo is more valid than or represents progress over such understanding in Dickens or Zola. Without making such a claim, I believe that it is nevertheless plausible to integrate evidence from the history of science and literature in support of a general argument based on five considerations:(1) I compare not whole novels but parts of novels, which I draw on as if they were criminological or psychiatric case histories, (2) modern science is more precise and valid than Victorian science based on the criteria that research must be precise and verifiable. The emergence of the germ theory of disease in the 1880s is a hallmark of modern medicine, which is clearly more effective in diagnosing, preventing, and curing illnesses than former medical explanations were able to achieve,(3) Modern novelists had the benefit of hindsight in that they were able to draw on as well as critically evaluate the novels of their predecessors, and they saw themselves as more or less successful as they moved beyond "outmoded" literary techniques (4) In thinking and writing about causality modern novelists as well as scientists used rhetoric that is closer to current usage and therefor seems more germane to current intellectual requirements, (5)we experience progress in many simple acts such as drinking in order to quench thirst, studying in order to pass an exam, or practicing a musical instrument in order to improve. My paper will elaborate on these consideration and introduce a discussion of this basic problem.

This paper will investigate early modern Japanese seismology through the window of what I call "meteorological seismology." Fusakichi Omori(1868-1923) is one of the founders of modern seismology. The seismological research of his period has been described by scholars such as Yoichiro Fujii(1967) and Takahiro Hagiwara(1982) as "statistical seismology." In this presentation, I would like to focus on the meteorological studies of earthquakes, which are not well known but were nevertheless an important strand of seismological research in Japan from the late 19th century to the interwar period. Hoping to contribute to the question of "when do the earthquakes break out," Omori, with some education in meteorology, analyzed the relationship between earthquakes and meteorological phenomena, using atmospheric pressure in particular. His "meteorological approach" had its origin in his instructors' era since they regarded meteorology as their model in both disciplinary aim and methodology. Even after the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, when it is said that there was a methodological turn to basic (geo)physics, some of Omori's colleagues followed his tactics seriously. I will argue that the desire to predict when earthquakes occur manifested itself in "meteorological seismology" and would like to shed some light on the environment in which this research program evolved.

The isolation of laboratories from nature is an aid to experimental biologists but also a problem: can experimentalists be "natural" in such an artificial place? One way biologists have addressed this problem is by making labs more like nature, or by locating labs in the natural environments where plants and animals live and can be studied both in and out of doors. This paper examines four such border places--marine and field stations, vibaria, and biological farms--and explorers how they did or did not encourage mixed lab-field practices.

In his recent study of The Nature of the Book (1999), Adrian Johns described the construction of various "cultures of print" during the first two centuries of printing in London, and argued that practices such as standardzation, fixity and disseminability emerged slowly via contestation and negotiation. My paper will consider the creation of print cultures in German-speaking areas, with the broadside almanac as its case study. With the timeliness of their content (papal bulls, city ordinances, indulgences, printers' advertisements, annual calendars) and relative ease of production, broadsides comprised a significant proportion of all incunable editions (nearly 10 percent). And nearly one-quarter of all broadsides were almanacs, presenting bloodletting and other astrological information, moveable feastdays of the church calendar, and times of new/full moons and eclipses for given calendar years. Based on a study of more than 350 incunable almanac editions, my paper will discuss the producers and consumers of these broadsides, and the movement of the astronomy of the Alfonsine Tables moved from manuscripts into the world of print. I will conclude that the astronomical practices implicit in the almanacs quickly stabilized, in contrast to the centuries of instability found by Johns in London's print culture.

The immense importance of science and technology for the development of new weapons in the Cold War has led many scholars to concentrate on the multiple links between science and the military and political apparatus of the national security state. The significance of this scholarship cannot be denied. On the other hand, this focus on the military dimension can easily blind one to the way in which science (and technology) were enrolled in other missions, notably from 1954 onwards. With the Korean war over, and Stalin dead, the nature of the Cold War changed, and "containment yielded, at least rhetorically, to coexistence" (Kuisel). The notion of security and the place of science in its preservation also changed. In particular science (and technology) were seen to be crucial motors of economic growth and personal prosperity, so leading to the consolidation of a conflict free, capitalist, "classless society". Science was also promoted as an ideology, a set of values that fostered liberal democratic attitudes of mind and practices. This paper will discuss these two other, nonmilitary, faces of science focusing on their importance in the construction of a US-led Atlantic community in the mid-1950s.

This historical investigation focuses on the ways in which the U.S. public health community, government agencies, and the tobacco industry responded to the discovery that a licit and widely used substance, cigarettes, was the cause of serious illness and death. The health hazards of smoking have been known since the 1950s, and have been at the core of many health education campaigns. Nevertheless, a substantial proportion of the population continues to smoke. We hypothesize that much of the reason for the persistence of smoking in the U.S. is the result of contradictory institutional responsibilities and responses. For example, while the public health community primarily is concerned with the health consequences of smoking, the tobacco industry focuses on the economic dimensions, and among the government agencies are those whose charge it is to educate people about health as well as those responsible for protecting and expanding the market economy. Thus, persistent smoking results from the tension between the individual right of freedom of choice and the societal responsibility to protect its citizens= health and welfare. In this paper, we review and analyze how since the 1950s public health, government agencies and the tobacco industry responded to the knowledge about the health hazards of smoking, while identifying the response from each of these institutions and the interactions among them.

Historians have now recognized the importance of the marvelous in the development of nineteenth-century French medicine and psychology. In this paper, I explore the scientific scrutiny under which physical manifestations of religiosity were put during this period. Particularly, I focus on the case of Louise Lateau and the ways in which her production of stigmata and her episodes of ecstasy were understood by physicians. Lateau was born in the Belgian village of Bois d'Haine in 1850. She received minimal education and earned her living as a seamstress. When cholera came to her region in 1866, she was noticed for her deep devotion to the sick. At the age of eighteen, she began to experience stigmata on her hands, feet, and chest. From then on, her wounds would manifest themselves every Friday until her death in 1883. During her episodes, she was observed by the Belgian Academy of Medicine and physicians from various countries. Many scientists saw Lateau's manifestations as an opportunity to obtain clear evidence for or against the authenticity of stigmata. If proven real, Lateau's wounds would then have to be explained in physiological and pathological terms. Not only is Lateau's story an interesting example of the ways in which mystics were viewed as physically and mentally sick by most scientists, it also illustrates the anxieties associated with physical manifestations of the religious experience for Christian scientists. Whereas most physicians explained Lateau's manifestations as a consequence of abstinence, intense contemplation, and continuous flagellation, there were a few who were not so quick to dismiss the possibility of a miracle. This paper deals with the authority of physiological and pathological explanations in the face of religion. It also tells the story of those scientists who felt caught between faith and science, between miracle and sickness.

This paper will examine the work of Warren and Margaret Lewis, focusing on their role in the development of the use of in vitro culturing techniques for cells and embryos. This prolific husband-and-wife scientific team were among the first American biologists to throw their support and experimental work behind the new techniques of tissue culture, starting in 1910. Part of the promise of these techniques for growing somatic cells and early embryonic tissue outside of the body seemed to be the ability to observe living cells over time, rather than the dead, stained cells of classic histology; the Lewises responded to this opportunity to analyse life over time by becoming talented film makers. Film was an experimental technique in their work; using time-lapse microcinematography to analyse the slow movements of cells and the dynamics of development led to concepts such as pinocytosis, a description of the intake of fluids into cells from their surrounding medium. Films such as Pinocytosis (1929) and Fertilization and Development of the Rabbit Egg (1930) were shown at meetings and distributed widely through the American biology community - and are in fact still in circulation. The films not only depicted cellular phenomena previously not perceptible to observers, but yielded data essential to the technical maintenance of cellular life in vitro.

In March of the year 1680, Paul Carter, a resident of Accomack County, Virginia, was required to undergo the ordeal of touch to determine whether he had murdered his own child. When Carter touched the child's corpse, it bled, leading to his indictment for murder. This legal proceeding was the end result of a long chain of events including a custody battle, a rape, an illegitimate pregnancy, and infanticide. The case offers an avenue into understanding magical belief in the colonial Chesapeake and highlights the extent to which such beliefs crossed the Atlantic with the immigrants. Chesapeake settlers brought with them an intact system of beliefs about law and magic as well as religion, gender, and family. Carter may have been accused of "not having the fear of God in his eyes," but his real crime was that he represented the antithesis of the good patriarch. Carter failed to fulfill societal expectations as a father, a husband, and ultimately as a man. My paper describes Carter's interactions with family and neighbors over the course of the eight years that culminated with his murder indictment and eventual death. The critical consideration, after all, was not whether Carter was in league with the devil but that his neighbors believed he was. This paper is part of a larger project that attempts to determine what made men vulnerable to accusations normally leveled at women; the project's geographic foci are early modern Lancashire and the Chesapeake. Through its engagement with models of magic usage, my project expands current explanations of witchcraft that are based on studies of Essex and Salem. There is little reason to suppose that these two areas should serve as models for areas that are remote to them, albeit in the same geographical boundaries.

Jean Parmentier (1494-1530) a pilot, translator, and poet who described himself as one with little formal schooling and as one who eschewed the way of the Franciscan, nonetheless constructed himself as a pious follower of God who served by taking pleasure in knowing his faictz--his facts and deeds. Born in Dieppe, Parmentier worked for the shipbuilder Jean Ango and traveled the seas extensively, including journeys to the New World, before his death during another navigation in Sumatra. Parmentierís poetry notably used navigational and cosmographical iconography including astrolabes and mappemondes. Scholars have often discussed how reports from new navigations "destabilized" established world-views. In this paper, I will examine how the genre of dissemination alters these effects. To do so, I will analyze Parmentierís poetry, as posthumously collected, framed, and published by his companion Pierre Crignon in Description nouvelle des merveilles de ce monde (1531). Central to this paper will be the contrast between Parmentierís self-description as a pilot who follows God through experience and Crignonís characterization of Parmentier through the material objects he allegedly produced: "ballads, royal songs, moralities, comedies, rondeaux, astrolabes, spheres, and mapemonde, also maps for knowing the world." The paper is not only a case-study of a narrative of new experiences, but also a study of the different ways in which the bearers of such knowledges were framed.

We will see how astronomical phenomena functioned in the predictive apparatus of the ancient astrologer by tracing the development of a family of astrological texts and instruments known as parapegmata. These instruments were used for (a) predicting natural phenomena such as weather and (b) for regulating agricultural practices. In looking at the mechanisms of astrological prediction, we see that by relying on parapegmata, the astrologer was able to forecast events such as meteorological phenomena and crop yields. This tradition finds its origins in several different omen traditions, common throughout the ancient Mediterranean and Near East, where different kinds of fortuitous events (including astronomical events such as eclipses) frequently had ominous significance. By the fifth century B.C., however, astronomy distinguished itself from the other omen traditions by developing mathematical methods for predicting the events (e.g., eclipses) from which its omens were derived. But the very adoption of these predictive methods served to canonize the timing and character of the astronomical events. That is: instead of being, strictly speaking, predictive, the texts and tools of early mathematical astronomy were, to some extent, normative. This meant that in making his predictions, the astronomer/astrologer, in spite of his rhetoric to the contrary, is primarily working from texts and instruments, rather than from observations in the natural world.

Early modern magical thought responded to foreign cultures and languages through a complex process of assimilation and symbolic interpretation. This paper considers Cornelius Agrippa's interpretation of Hebrew as powerful language, and draws a comparison to Athanasius Kircher's analysis of Chinese writing as hieroglyphic. In both cases, the prestigious antiquity of the written form enables a magical division between the power of the script and the culture which produced that script. Examination of these strategies for simultaneous empowerment and assimilation of foreign writing permits a clearer view of magical thinking within the wider framework of early modern intellectual and scientific debate, particularly with reference to the growing awareness of non-European cultures as both resource and threat.

After the American Revolution, elite naturalists offered ordinary Americans their identification skills to classify the nation's flora, fauna, and minerals. Naturalists claimed that their classificatory expertise would assist the republic toward cataloging its natural resources, these resources providing the economic foundation essential to the new nation's political success. Evidence indicates that ordinary Americans provided natural historians specimens and samples, saving naturalists the expense and dangers of frontier travel. In return, frontier Americans were promised and received lucrative "useful knowledge," classifications and information that transformed unidentified natural resources into valuable commodities. These exchanges exposed competing systems of value imbedded in the practices and reception of natural knowledge, the authority of natural history and natural historians determined as much by profit margins as scientific classifications. This paper examines the place and role of natural history authority, particularly how it became compromised and challenged by the authority of the marketplace.

In Kuhn, [1977a; originally 1973] ("Objectivity, Value Judgment, and Theory Choice" in The Essential Tension, Chicago) there is a claim, and some brief sketchy support, that there are no purely epistemic values (no "mechanical algorithms, e.g., Bayes' theorem) that are sufficient for theory choice. (Wes Salmon replied to this.) This relates to themes that Kuhn previously adumbrated in Structure of Scientific Revolutions about the "social" nature of knowledge. I believe most STS people have the wrong take on the status of the epistemic/non-epistemic (social) distinction as applied to values and this is because they are unclear how non-epistemic values play a normative role in even scientific knowledge. So I would propose, not to review the STS literature on this topic, except in passing, but to lay out arguments inspired by Kuhn about the lack of coherence of the epistemic/non-epistemic distinction and some implications it may have for knowledge and the criteria for knowledge.

At least three distinct notions of the experimental animal emerged in American life science between 1895 and 1940: animals as a representative of a particular phylogenetic group, animals as an experimental standard, and animals as a generic model revealing general processes presumed to apply to most species. Their conceptual differences represent tool boundaries associated with the expected benefits of using animals in research. Because they were increasingly widely used in this period, albino rats can illustrate the boundaries implied by each of these notions and the cognitive shifts required by the prevalence of any one. In America, rats were first selectively bred for research in physiology, neurology and psychology around 1900, by psychiatrist Adolf Meyer and neurologist Henry Donaldson. The two men agreed that rats would be excellent experimental animals in brain research, but they used them in very different ways. Meyer considered them to be a phylogenetic representative of a particular group: rodents and other 'lower' mammals. Donaldson, however, saw rats as standard animals-- constant elements in the standardization required by experimentation. Neither used the term 'animal model'. I compare their distinct approaches to clarify the cognitive boundaries distinguishing test animals as 'representatives' from test animals as 'standards' and to illustrate the value of an historiographic focus on an individual scientist's use of a tool. I also explore the boundaries that were crossed as generic 'animal models' came to dominate research in neurology and physiology.

In 1920, the United States Public Health Service called for "a people's war" to be waged against venereal diseases. Arguing that the participation of local communities was central to the war against vice and disease, PHS launched an "educational offensive" against "ignorance, industrial inefficiency, poverty, quackery, prudery, blindness, deformity, suffering, insanity [and] death." Throughout the 1920s, PHS developed pamphlets, motion pictures, lectures, and stereopticon exhibitions-all intended to educate laypeople on the dangers of venereal disease. Ideally, this campaign was to be fought not by medical practitioners but by laypeople who would educate first themselves and then their communities. Education and the transfer of medical authority to local communities were, PHS argued, integral to the fight against venereal disease. To this end, local communities were encouraged to create sex education programs, to crack down on vice and to provide for the expansion of medical services. From its inception, the campaign was met with enthusiasm and there was a push to expand the program during the early 1920s. But by 1929, PHS had retreated from the campaign. Through an analysis of the campaign and its message, this paper will examine both the reasons for the failure of this campaign and the ways in which this failure to transfer medical authority to laypeople shaped the construction of medical knowledge in the inter-war period.

Begin with two assumptions: it is possible to determine the number of colors that exist in the world, and this number (or some telling subset) can take a visual form. What is this number and what is the shape? How are they calculated? What information should they offer? How, exactly, do these formulations reflect color?s practices and its theories? In what ways does this information aid the work of colorists --scientists, manufacturers, experimenters, the idly curious? The search for a unified system for color spanned the eighteenth century and attracted investigators throughout Europe. It offered a direct expression of some typical goals and attitudes for the value of classification within the sciences and beyond. A universal organization for color would be a reference point that improved accuracy of transmitted information among scientists, and among merchants and manufacturers as well. Yet there were problems. Attempts to calculate and order color needed a standardized language of words or symbols. The description of basic colors and their number varied by region and by personal experience. Assumptions about the derivations of color had an effect on the choice of display system. Practical concerns interfered with the creation of color structures. Although experience often ran counter to ideas, throughout the eighteenth century members of the color community looked for a physical demonstration of the alliance between science and art, via the creation of an ordering system for color. In this paper, I will look at these endeavors, their visual results, underlying concerns, practical and scientific values.

During the decade and a half before Darwin published the Origin of Species (1859), the faculty at Princeton College and Princeton Theological Seminary taught their students how to argue against the "development theory" popularized by the anonymous author of the Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation (1st Am. ed., 1845). Princetonians did not engage Vestiges' evolutionism in terms of a conflict between science and religion. Rather, they perceived Vestiges as an outside challenge to their locally cherished Old School Presbyterian amalgamation of both natural and theological sciences. Princeton's theologians, preachers, natural philosophy professors, and trustees shared a common faith, and a common scientific commitment, to an Old School Presbyterian understanding of the "sovereignty of God." This paper draws from lecture notes and sermon manuscripts to examine how Vestiges measured up to God's sovereignty at Princeton in effort to understand why, exactly, students were taught to reject the development theory.

In 1959, Columbia University researchers Bruce C. Heezen and Marie Tharp published 'The Floor of the Oceans I: The North Atlantic', the first installment of what became the Heezen-Tharp physiographic map of Earth's seafloor. Among its contributions to marine geology, the Heezen-Tharp map was the first to clearly delineate the structure of the mid -Atlantic ridge and its central rift valley. Despite the map's fame, few studies have examined the actual creation of this map or its reception within the geological community in the early 1960's--before the theory of plate tectonics helped to validate its major features. Using a variety of sources, including unpublished correspondence from Heezen and Tharp as well as recent oral history interviews, I will address the role which new marine surveying instrumentation played in the development of this seminal cartographic work.

This talk is on the use of apparently aesthetic justifications of Copernicanism in the works of Copernicus, Rheticus, and Kepler. The use of aesthetic language by these figures has been taken by many (most famously by Kuhn) as evidence that the battle for Copernicanism was fought on aesthetic rather than evidential grounds. Copernicus's "argument from harmony" is sufficiently opaque as to allow for a variety of interpretations, but his student, Rheticus, was considerably more clear. My position is that a closer look at how aesthetic language was used by Rheticus and also Kepler reveals that the language was intended metaphorically to describe new ideas about the relationship between data and theory. These "aesthetic" arguments really are evidential arguments, and are consequently of great historical and philosophical interest. Moreover, these arguments allowed early Copernicans to argue that though humanity no longer occupies a central physical place, the right conception of evidence shows that we still occupy a central epistemological place (Kepler, for example, spoke of the epistemological benefit of being on a "moving observatory").

In a paper originally written for a borderlands class, I hoped to explore the ethnicity of physicist Luis Alvarez. His autobiography clarified his ethnicity. His papers made his ethnicity an irresistible topic for research: 'I have never thought of myself as being either Spanish, or Spanish-American, and I will certainly be no part in [a] scheme to present me to minority peoples as a member of a minority.' Alvarez, a white man with a Spanish surname, wanted success without the hyphenated disclaimer. However, his name and success in high-energy physics attracted many biographers. Thanks to a very thorough archive at Berkeley, this clash is well documented, permitting three lines of inquiry. Why and how does a white physicist protect his ethnicity? Alvarez certainly did whenever possible; his letters show how important this effort was to him. Who gets to decide the fate of Alvarez the historical figure? After his death in 1988, his image seems to be up for grabs by biographers, even children's books. Finally, why is there such a demand for Mexican-American physicists? While the first two questions lead to more good questions, this final question leads my strongest conclusion. The need for minority role models in science reveals itself in Alvarez's bickering with publishers. Yet an understanding of this need should confront a larger issue: does race have a place in physics?

The paper explores the interrelated artistic and scientific contexts of reception for Newton's optical theories in mid-eighteenth century Venice. The focus is on Francesco Algarotti (1712-1764), who wrote a popularization of Newton's optics but was also a patron of the fine arts and a well-known art dealer. Algarotti's various activities point at the essential interaction between the experimental display of the properties of light and the use of light in contemporary Venetian painting. In particular, we shall look at the creation of new audiences of potential consumers around light phenomena. As the fall of the ancient republic seemed both impending and inevitable, Venetian artists and literati made light one privileged site for the elaboration of new discourses and practices aimed at establishing new European markets for both art and science.

The political morass of the McCarthy Era, within which philosophers of science (like other academics) had to make their way in the mid-Twentieth Century, was more complex than often recognized. Many things other than Communist, or even leftist, sympathies could get you into trouble. Some self-protective strategies, such adopting a rhetoric of religious or patriotic bluster, would have been counterproductive or even fatal. The only recourse was to adopt a framework which placed itself above political considerations altogether, and so was unable to account for its own success. My paper will background the other papers by discussing these developments in a comparatively general way.

Until the mid-seventeenth century, histories of nature continued to resemble earlier cultural products which inventoried nature in catalogues alphabetically arranged or in categories linked to utility, convenience or materia medica. By 1690, however, natural hisory had been transformed into an enterprise above all concerned with taxonomy, that part of natural philosophy preoccupied with delineating the natural order and relations of things: nature appeared to be disciplined and capable of being ranked into classes "like the squadrons of an army." This paper surveys an array of attitudes towards ordering nature which suggests that opinion on classification was elastic: there existed no coherent philosophical justification, no standard criteria, no common approach, and indeed, no consensus on the importance of taxonomy until the 1670s. The concern with ordering nature at this historical moment cannot be simply ascribed to an inexplicable "classification instinct," to a universal and timeless search for the natural system, to the weight of new material, or even to a sudden urge to rationally organize God's creations. I further argue that classification may have become established as the proper practice of natural historians for entirely pragmatic reasons.

The German university revolution of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries transformed the medium of organizing knowledge from writing to speech. Previously, during the Enlightenment, the two principal modes of scientific communication had both centered on the disembodied graphic word: the handwritten republic of letters and the printed encyclopedia. But the new (or newly enlivened) research universities at Göttingen, Jena, Berlin, and Heidelberg concentrated knowledge by bringing professors into contact with their students and fellow researchers viva voce. Lectures, seminars, and laboratories thus became the institutions in which science was created and disseminated in the nineteenth century. And though academic journals and scientific periodicals undeniably played a key role in the formation of disciplines at this time, these forms of print culture served primarily to unite islands of intellectuals and scientists physically dispersed in Europe's university towns and cosmopolitan cities. The German university revolution in fact killed off an entire genre of printed communication which had aimed, not only to bring dispersed Wissenschaftler together, but also to put them in contact with the populace at large. A massive bibliographic effort currently underway in Germany has just begun to reclaim these materials, which range from handbooks on the verbal "catechization" of the peasantry to the "intelligence gazettes" imparting practical knowledge to the common (wo)man. This paper will survey the modes and media of written and spoken communication prevalent during the so-called "popular Enlightenment" of the 1720s through 1790s, before science and society had been physically and institutionally separated and Wissenschaft relegated to the lecture halls and laboratories. In brief, it canvasses the fascinating pedagogical practices found in Germany before the profound reorganization of knowledge brought about by the modern research university.

In the mid-nineteenth century a fierce controversy arose regarding the origin of the new forms of logic. One candidate put forward as "founding father" was the somewhat surprised George Bentham, nephew of Jeremy Bentham and by then a highly influential (and Tory) natural historian. The controversy soon died down, only to arise again late in the century. Using new archival evidence (and a strong antipathy to 'founding father" stories), this paper re-examines the Outline of a New System of Logic (1827), Bentham's attempt at a far-reaching expansion of his uncle's radical nominalist logic constructed in concert with his own deep reforms in natural history. Investigating the boundaries and important crossing between logic, politics and natural history in the early nineteenth century, this paper will explore some of the forgotten non-mathematical themes of the new logic.

This paper examines the nature of geological fieldwork undertaken in nineteenth century India by the functionaries of the English East India Company. Geological information was collected in a haphazard fashion before the establishment of a separate Geological Survey of India in 1851. It formed part of the data transmitted in official reports, as survey and settlement operations expanded in the nineteenth century and an entity called British India emerged through the cultural technologies of colonial rule. While geology was primarily conceived in a utilitarian manner as a "resource" of various kinds for the British imperial enterprise, geological surveyors like Captain J. D. Herbert, and Francis Newbold of the Madras Native Infantry, carried out their fieldwork in a manner that both added to the discoveries of European geology as well as corrected its theoretical bases. I make a reading of two papers published in the Journal of the Asiatic Society, the first by Herbert on the mineralogy of the Himalayas; and the second by Newbold on the striated rock basins of southern India, in order to explore the effects of the theoretical disputes that agitated British geology in the nineteenth century on Anglo- Indian geologists committed to understanding the singularity of India through accurate geological observation.

In the summer of 1888, a series of grisly murders took place in the Whitechapel district of London. The victims were all women, they were all prostitutes, and they were all killed in particularly horrifying ways. Indeed, what captured the imagination of the Victorian public was the monstrous brutality of the murders, for the victims' bodies were torn open and their organs removed. The killer was never caught. But during his reign of terror and for many years afterward, "Jack the Ripper" was made increasingly visible as a media construction filtered through numerous existing cultural narratives. Several theories about the killer's true identity and motives were put forth, but perhaps the most enduring was that "saucy Jack" was a mad doctor searching for the secrets of human physiology through hideous vivisection experiments conducted on the women of Whitechapel. This paper explores the culture and the science of Victorian vivisection that enabled it to be blamed for some of the most vicious murders in history. It asks about the relationship between a scientific investigation that reads vivisected bodies for secrets of their physiology and a criminal investigation that reads mutilated female corpses for clues of their killer's identity. Finally, it analyzes the Whitechapel murders as a social text informed by late nineteenth century scientific and literary narratives of monstrosity and as the materialization of a certain Gothic imagination endemic to fin de siécle Britain. In a taunting letter to Scotland Yard seemingly written by the Whitechapel killer, a return address is given as "From Hell." This paper tries to ascertain just what kind of science the Victorians thought was practiced there.

In September 1829, two young men from Siam arrived in Boston Harbor, aboard the American ship the Sachem. According to a contemporary newspaper account, they were about five feet tall, 'of well proportioned frames, strong and active, good natured, and of a pleasant expression of countenance, and withal intelligent and sensible.' They also possessed 'a good appetite, appear lively, and run about the deck and the cabin of the ship with the same faculty that any two healthy lads would do, with their arms over each other shoulders.' Strangely, in the same article, they are also described as a 'very strange freak of nature' and as 'one of the greatest living curiosities.' How can we account for these apparently contradictory statements? Perhaps it would help to state that the two young men in question are Chang and Eng, the 'original' Siamese twins. They were brought to the West to be examined by medical men and to be exhibited to the general public. Throughout the nineteenth century in Britain and the U.S., conjoined twins, along with a host of other people with unusual anatomies shared these experiences. Previous accounts have tended to see popular interest in and knowledge of 'monstrosities' in opposition to scientific interest and knowledge. I examine contemporary discourse surrounding the exhibitions of Chang and Eng, medical and popular theories of the causes of monstrosities as well as visual representations of conjoined twins to challenge this boundary.

Science, like many things, is adapted to its environment. As previous scholars have demonstrated, the physical environment of science is fundamental to its historical understanding. From the laboratory to the field, the observatory to the classroom, a scientific knowledge varies, at times substantially, based on its location. I propose the same holds true for the "published environment." From monographs to lectures, letters to journals, science's printed spaces are a complex interaction of researcher, editor, publisher, printer, reader, and consumer. In this paper I will examine one of these locations, the periodical, and explore one field of scientific inquiry, cosmology, in its various and diverse manifestations in German-language scientific publications from 1900 to 1920. I will argue along two interrelated fronts. First, by treating the periodical as a published environment, I will demonstrate the manner in which it can serve as an active mediator among the diverse expectations of the author, reader, and publisher. Second, I will trace the variety of presentations, meanings, and associations across a range of journals for the interdisciplinary endeavor of cosmology. Cosmology circa 1900 was not firmly grounded within any single disciplinary framework; it was rather an amalgamation of astronomy, physics, geodesy, geophysics, mathematics, and at times, evolutionary biology. Along with this broad disciplinary range came an equally diverse set of cultural, philosophical, and theological associations. It is precisely this malleability that makes a study of cosmology particularly reflective of its immediate environment. What I will argue here is that over a range of journals, from the academic to the popular, from the Annalen der Physik to Kosmos, the literature referenced and the traditions evoked were sculpted both by the author's expectation of the audience, and the audience's expectation of the science. Furthermore, as put in greater relief by Einstein's 1917 introduction of modern relativistic cosmology, these expectations had interesting implications for the content and the practice of the science itself.

Although historians of the Scopes trial have largely ignored them, African Americans were as intensely interested in the conflict as any other Americans, but they observed Scopes from a different perspective. The secular black elite, in particular, saw the Scopes prosecution as part of the larger structure of southern white repression, and were convinced that many whites opposed evolution because it implied a common racial ancestry for blacks and whites. In response, members of the secular black elite, including W.E.B. DuBois, identified their own cause with the rise of scientific expertise, ignoring the legacy of scientific racism that was also strong in the 1920s. The presentation draws on extensive research into African American newspapers and religious periodicals from the time.

Joseph ibn Nahmias' (fl. 1330-1350 C. E.) Judeo-Arabic text, Light of the World is one of the few attempts to explain celestial motions with homocentric spheres. Ibn Nahmias states in the text that he wrote in order to repair the faults of al-Bitruji's (d. 1217) theories. The Tibbonid Hebrew translation was completed soon after Light of the World's composition. In this paper, I will explore the uses of this translation. Did readers engage the Light of the World's more technical aspects as Profet Duran's comments suggest? Or, did readers use the translation as a general precis of the Ptolemaic system and ignore Light of the World's improvements on the theories of al-Bitruji? What does the Hebrew translation of Light of the World tell us about the place of science in fourteenth-century Provence?

Steve Fuller's recent criticisms of Thomas Kuhn's contributions to the philosophy of science bring up some interesting points but ultimately miss their mark. Fuller is correct, for example, in pointing out that Kuhn blurs the line between description and prescription, but fails to see that Kuhn did so in a principled way. The Kuhn of The Structure of Scientific Revolutions did much better than conclude that science is presumably functioning as it should, for otherwise it would not have been as it is for as long as it has. Moreover, part of the appeal of Kuhn's revolutionary work is precisely that he provides plausible socio-psychological mechanisms to explain why science should be expected to accord with his description of it, although Fuller chides him for his failure to do that. And I do believe, against Fuller, that Kuhn made philosophers far more sensitive to the history and practice of science than Popperians and positivists had been before him.

As the leading woman of science in Great Britain during the nineteenth century, Mary Somerville (1780-1872) crossed many institutional and cultural borders. In this paper, however, I would like to focus on the intellectual and rhetorical manifestations of her tendency to cross borders, especially as this tendency is manifest in On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences (1834)where she crosses disciplinary boundaries to establish new perceptions of identity with regard to science. Somerville has both the distinction and the disadvantage of being a scientist who cannot easily be associated with a particular branch of science. This same characteristic is reflected in the intellectual project to which she devoted much of her career, which involved delineating the connections among various natural phenomena and laws and, by extension, among the various branches of the physical sciences. Although Connexion takes the whole of the physical sciences as its subject, it is organized according to related categories of natural phenomena (such as planetary motion, the tides, and sound) rather than scientific specialties or disciplines, what Somerville calls the "branches" of science. By focusing on the power of science to heighten perception, broaden comprehension, and transform world view, this method of organization and presentation accomplishes what historical, discipline-specific, or encyclopedic accounts of scientific knowledge could not do. At a more practical level, Connexion helped establish a body of knowledge that both facilitated the progress of science and created intellectual community among the group who increasingly came to identify themselves as "scientists." By obscuring disciplinary borders and focusing on the importance of connections, Somerville contributed significantly to the emergence of a coherent identity for science as a distinct, valuable, and reliable form of knowledge.

At the outset of World War II the United States, under the auspices of the Chemical Warfare Service and supported by presidential emergency funds, initiated a full-scale biological weapons program with research assistance from the United Kingdom. Centered at Fort Detrick, the American biological weapons (BW) effort matured into one of the longest running and most secretive of all of the Department of Defense special research and development programs during the Cold War. From 1943 to 1969, Detrick scientists pursued both defensive and offensive weapons research on the periphery of traditional scientific networks. In effect, biological weapons scientists acted as avid consumers of scientific knowledge with little concern for intellectual reciprocity. Nor were these scientists motivated by professional recognition of their achievements. Rather, they conducted their researches in relative anonymity. Both the federal government and BW scientists were particularly concerned with masking researcher's involvement within the program. Secrecy for the purpose of maintaining national security only partially explains the willingness of Detrick scientists to act beyond the conventions of 'normal' science. This paper explores the long-standing association of the various sub-disciplines of microbiology with the clinical practice of disease prevention and eradication, and how this association perpetuated a moral dilemma for participants in the biological weapons program. Furthermore, this paper investigates how the menace of foreign BW efforts within the broader Cold War threat environment helped not only to justify individual participation, but also piloted the overall research agenda at Fort Detrick.

The mid-nineteen century was the heyday of religious newspapers in America. Historical studies of religion and science focussing on the opinions of intellectuals, especially prominent scientists and theologians, have transformed our understanding of this period. But little is known about the treatment of science in the popular religious press where lay Christians and Jews would have encountered discussions about science and their faith. This paper examines the diversity of meanings ascribed to nature and science by popular religious writers in weekly newspapers from various denominations and locations. While drawing on a wide variety of topics, it focuses on the "Unity of Mankind" debate as a central, though neglected, controversy. From the 1840s through the balance of the century, the polygenetic theory of human racial origins commanded the attention of the pious and provides historians with a unique case study, one in which, for once, science did not "win."

At first glance botanical drawings of the 18th century might be interpreted as naturalistic portraits of living plants, drawn by individual artists according to their own style and taste. A more detailed investigation reveals an entirely different story. The pictures were not even intended to render the outward appearance of living plants, but were to communicate typical features of plant species. To meet this objective a number of representational conventions had to be observed, in order to make sure to be correctly understood. For this the draughtsmen and engravers needed a special training; copying standardized motives from drawing books was a common part of this training. Copying elements of previously published drawings and integrating them into new pictures was also widespread in the actual work. But this is not to say that later draughtsmen were lazy or lacked creativity. Only carefully selected elements were taken over, and even those were improved in terms of their accuracy and their appropriateness to the new context. This procedure was an important strategy of 18th century botanists to uphold the standards of the genre in terms of pictorial representation and content, while at the same time presenting a picture, that would meet their own requirements better than already existing depictions.

As the lead speaker in this session , I begin with some remarks about Kuhn's idiosyncracies and his strengths and weaknesses as a historian and as a philosopher. Then I turn to Kuhn's attempt to shift the agenda of both history of science and philosophy of science. While his views on both counts had some conservative roots, and while the historical side of his agenda largely failed, his work helped to open up promising new spaces for investigation, which the early Kuhn could conceive only dimly--and some products of which he later disavowed. I focus on the early Kuhn, and, contrary to the published position of another speaker (Fuller) and to the later Kuhn himself, I claim that history of science is indispensable to science studies and (or including) philosophy of science and epistemology. I agree with Joseph Rouse that Kuhn's emphasis on scientific practices, tacit knowledge and skills, and on how such knowledge is acquired, transformed, and transmitted to others, helped to shift the focus away from conservative, traditional epistemology. However, contrary to Rouse, I do not see Kuhn's work as signaling the end of epistemology in favor of predominantly cultural and political studies of science. Rather, I contend that Kuhn helped open the possibility of newer and more interesting epistemological projects, projects that make possible more genuine cooperation among historians and philosophers of science, because they do not automatically co-opt historians into grand philosophical legitimation projects, including strong realisms or doctrines of absolute progress. These projects can have research and policy implications less conservative than Kuhn's own views, including for future "knowledge engineering," but I must leave policy issues to other speakers.

In the sixteenth century, the princes of the Holy Roman Empire were some of the most prominent supporters of alchemy. Recent work has shown how noble patronage of alchemy and occult natural philosophies was an intellectual response to a sense of religious and political disintegration in the Empire on the eve of the Thirty Years War. Part of what made alchemy so appealing, however, was that it also offered very concrete benefits to its supporters. In this paper, I will explore the role of practical alchemy in the emerging states of the Holy Roman Empire. Facing major shifts in the European economy--particularly in the flow of specie--a number of sixteenth-century princes took an active interest in reorganizing and developing their territorial economies. As the identification and exploitation of new natural resources (particularly precious metals) became central to economic policies, practical alchemists found a place at court as technical experts in the multiplication, assaying and refinement of metals. As I shall argue, this collaboration introduced new economic standards into alchemical work. Rather than evaluating alchemistsÌ competence according to their learning or social standing, sixteenth-century princes questioned whether their processes were efficient and productive. By introducing economic standards to assessments of alchemical expertise, therefore, sixteenth-century princes paved the way for the much more radical relationship that Johann Joachim Becher would forge between alchemy and commerce in the seventeenth century.

What happens when scientists with a particular set of experiences bring them to a setting that wasn't designed for them? Marine science was hot in the decades around 1900. In Germany, state aspirations to become a naval power, efforts to stimulate fisheries, and academic interest in evolution, adaptation, and marine biogeography combined to make oceans science a highly visible new interdisciplinary enterprise. Zoologists interested in participating in this new science found their institutional options limited, however. Marine stations had few permanent support staff, and expeditions were temporary affairs. Most active marine biologists in Germany ended up working in public or university natural history museums. This paper examines the effects of the museum setting and marine science on one another, focusing on the research activities undertaken by marine scientists at the natural history museums in Berlin and Hamburg.

From several different perspectives--social, political, cultural, philosophical, and scientific--the sense of sight was an object of fascination and study in the first half of the nineteenth century. Vision, the key sense of the nineteenth century, was used to integrate and control the multitudinous changes taking place in public life. During this period of rapid social, political, and aesthetic change in the German states there as a widespread concern for the interpretation and re-presentation of visual reality. There was not a single part of the rural and urban landscape, natural and human-made, or of social, economic, and political reality that did not change during this period, and that therefore had to be "seen" in a new way. The challenge of accurately interpreting social and political change in the everyday was rendered problematic by the public's fascination with what was not real, with the optical illusions that could be produced by increasingly sophisticated means from about 1780 to 1850. Philosophers, physicists, physiologists, psychologists, and physicians approached, from various angles, the significance and meaning of optical illusions; their efforts could be viewed not only attempts to understand how optical illusions were produced, but also to suggests ways to confirm what was "real," thereby offering guidelines for stabilizing the visual everyday. This essay examines how optical illusions were perceived and managed, where they were tolerated, and why they became objects of scientific investigation.

For most of the Victorian period, the practice of science in Britain was very much a domestic affair. The specter of Frankenstein creating life in his attic laboratory was a gothic, romantic image emblematic of an entire century--until the rise of civic and academic spaces for science in the last quarter of Victoria's reign. How did gentlemen (and gentlewomen) of science respond to the shift toward a more 'professional' and 'public' model of scientific research celebrating laboratory space external to private homes? This paper explores this question as it concerned the aristocratic, Conservative, Anglican circle that included the Balfour, Rayleigh, and Salisbury families who practiced natural history and physical science within domestic spaces. It analyzes country houses as 'border spaces' where local and distant contexts, amateur and professional identities, science and theology, and private and public spheres of life intermingled in important ways. It also argues that within and beyond this social network country house research sustained a strong legacy while constituting a viable alternative to the more middle-class, professional agendas for science advocated by T.H. Huxley and his allies during this period of dramatic institutional change in science.

Crossing the borders between cultures, fields of knowledge and degrees of expertise entails contingency. Focusing on the science of electricity circa 1800, and using the introduction of the voltaic battery as a case study, the present paper will show how networks of expert and amateur electricians scattered in several countries proceeded to diverse assessments of the new device. In the process, important permutations of some basic notions of Enlightenment natural philosophy took place, leading to widely different interpretations of what was nonetheless regarded as the same fundamental instrument. The circumstance will be used to explain how, in little more than one year, a simple instrument, invented by Alessandro Volta in Austrian Lombardy as a device imitating the electric fish and showing the physical principle of contact electricity at work, was interpreted instead by William Nicholson in England as a chemical machine prone to industrial applications, by Johann Wilhelm Ritter in the German states as an icon of the Romantic philosophy of nature, by Jean-Baptiste Biot in Paris as an example of Laplacian mathematical physics, by Etienne-Gaspard Robertson as an addition to his ghost shows, and by general Bonaparte as a symbol of achievement, whose celebration could convey a reassuring image of French political ambitions over Europe. It will be argued, in conclusion, that border crossing implies amounts of shared notions, diversity, and unintended consequences that neither the realists nor the social constructivists have been willing so far to accommodate together in their views of the history of science and technology.

My presentation focuses on the work of Samuel Griswold Goodrich (1793-1860), a popular and prolific author of works for children in mid-19th century America. Goodrich was known to his legions of child readers as "Peter Parley," a fictional character he created to be the presumed author of his first books. Goodrich, in fact, was one of the key movers behind the push to replace imported British texts with those by native authors, and his scientific presentations for young Americans - ranging across nature in its physical, faunal, floral, and human forms - offers a particularly revealing vantage point from which to examine the creation of a vernacular scientific culture in the new nation. The lessons that Goodrich drew from "nature's open book" inspired him to set the "libraries of the learned" at liberty, and his vigorous interventions in the circulation of knowledge in a time when the sources of authority were under intense social, intellectual, and political scrutiny helped to create a new generation of scientific Americans at a critical moment in the history of American science. I will also briefly address some of the reasons why Goodrich's output, although little-studied by historians of science, can offer insight into debates that would emerge in the latter nineteenth century in which radically empiricist views of nature would challenge the restricted empiricism promoted by scientific professionals.

From 1967 until 1978, the U.S. National Cancer Institute (NCI) aggressively pursued research targeted at the development of a 'less hazardous cigarette'. In the mid-1960s, public health leaders were disappointed (though not wholly surprised) that Americans had not stopped smoking following the release of the 1964 Surgeon General's report on Smoking and Health. In the face of rising lung cancer death rates, the NCI was under pressure from Congress and the public to do something about the growing epidemic. At the time, NCI leaders believed their best hope was to enlist the aid of the tobacco industry and conduct a targeted research program to study how modifications in tobacco processing and cigarette construction could reduce the product's health effects. The NCI's Smoking and Health Program funded more than $25 million in research towards modified cigarettes during this period, though opinions of the success of this research differed widely. By 1977 attitudes within the public health community had changed dramatically, and critics (including some from within the NCI) argued that the NCI program was doing more to aid the tobacco industry than to promote public health. Internal tobacco company documents and the NCI's own program records help explain how this change in policy and attitudes occurred and how scientists at NCI and in the tobacco industry responded.

This paper will explore the cultures of natural history in British America, especially from 1660-1760, showing the participation of many non-genteel, non-male observers and collectors, as well as analyzing how this heterogeneous scientific culture represented American nature. For English colonials living in North America, nature was both a threat and a potential asset. Responding to the pervasive theories of environmentally influenced humoralism and to the early modern association of the Americas with the preternatural, English men and women worried about their physical and mental estrangement in America. However, elites who had access or could create an access to metropolitan scientific correspondents used specimens of American nature as a palpable currency that would disprove their own "criolian degeneracy" and would represent the New World as fulfilling the emergent Enlightenment concept of nature as orderly and provident. Even female colonials, despite their linkage with nature itself in Baconian and Early Modern exploration rhetoric, and despite their troubled association with a "fatal curiosity" (as opposed to the Royal Society's disinterested one), participated in natural history's collection and construction of the New World. Finally, certain aspects of American nature that, despite the promises of Physico-theology, continued to seem threatening to white colonials--the swamp, the deep woods, the toxic zones of plants--were not inquired into directly by most white naturalists; instead colonials established the Indian and the African slave as "experts" in these zones.

For much of the nineteenth century, American naturalists discussed the problem of the prairie: why most of the land between the Appalachians and the Rockies was devoid of trees. Physical scientists emphasized enduring natural deficiencies of climate and soil. Botanists and geographers believed the prairies were contingent results of plant evolution, animal migration, and, especially, human use of fire. This dispute had practical consequences for agricultural settlement, and, more specifically, for silvicultural schemes. What kinds of trees could or should be planted, and where? Asa Gray's scientific sermons of the 1870s on the biogeography of American plants, and the creation of Arbor Day, were both efforts to influence the future of the midcontinent landscape.

Throughout the nineteenth century, the public face of physiognomy underwent a number of changes. From wild popularity to widespread derision, there was little consensus on the efficacy and validity of the science of face reading. Described by its popularisers as easily learned and highly accessible to the lay public, physiognomy was quickly rejected in the early nineteenth century by the academic elite due the lack of expertise it demanded of its practitioners. However, this paper will demonstrate that by the middle of the century, physiognomy was reappropriated by the developing disciplinary class of asylum superintendents in order to standardise diagnosis across space and time. Thus, physiognomy was repackaged as a practice whose use could only truly be understood by a specially trained group of experts. I will examine the use of photographs of the insane as a professionalizing measure to create a consistent method of diagnosis, a pictorial pre-DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual). These photos were taken and shared among the different asylum superintendents Madness, and the identification of madness, became essentialised to physical features as they were portrayed in the pictures taken by the diagnosers. Asylum superintendents such as John Connolly and Hugh Diamond were the first to produce detailed studies of the physiognomy, but they were by no means the last. This paper will examine the ways in which physiognomy and photography organised not only the mad, but those who attempted to study and treat them.

In November 1953, the Saturday Evening Post published a story on hemophilia with the provocative title, 'I've Got the Lonesomest Disease!' Written by Helen Furnas, a woman who had been recently diagnosed as a 'PTA-type hemophiloid,' the article described organized efforts underway in the United States to manage disabling and life-threatening bleeding disorders. Throughout the twentieth century, hemophilia has been defined as a sex-linked trait, which is transmitted by asymptomatic females to their male offspring. Indeed, many experts believed that hemophilia in the female was a practical impossibility, if not a 'lethal trait' before the early 1950's. The conceptual space surrounding hemophilia changed dramatically in the 1950's as hematologists developed new assays for measuring the functional properties of blood. A growing diversity of bleeding disorders were discovered, and (for the first time) women were found to suffer from hemophilia and other bleeding disorders. Helen Furnas was one of these women. Today, hemophilia is a disease defined by both gender and technology. By interpreting the discipline of hematology in the United States as well as the social and cultural context of hemophilia management in post-World War II America, this paper examines the gendered dimensions of hemophilia research, diagnosis, and treatment in the 1950s and early 1960s.

In the first decades of the 19th century, dozens of natural scientific societies were founded in cities and towns across German-speaking Europe. In these civic forums, university professors, aristocrats, bureaucrats and middle class professionals met to present their own research and discuss the findings of others. This same period also saw a rapid expansion in the publication of German-language scientific periodicals, and these two developments were often closely intertwined. Local scientific societies typically published yearly reports of their meetings, and their miscellaneous Verhandlungen and Denkschriften were staples of early 19th century scientific libraries. Civic scientific societies also sometimes sponsored periodicals devoted to specific scientific disciplines. For example, one of the earliest of these, the Regensburg Botanical Society's Flora, went on to become a fixture of botanical publishing. Taking into consideration a variety of early 19th century publishing ventures, this paper explores the broad overlap between the two canonical institutions of the public sphere - the voluntary association and the periodical - within early 19th century German natural science. Over the first half of the 19th century, the evolving conventions of face-to-face scientific sociability shaped the standards and expectations of printed exchange; publishing projects also coordinated, disciplined and limited local networks of natural researchers in new ways.

This paper discusses how during the reign of Philip II, Spanish cosmographers seeking to explain the New World, resorted to voyages of scientific exploration, descriptive geographies, new cartographic methods, and an unrelenting questioning of those living in the new lands and those arriving from beyond the Ocean Sea to formulate a new, accurate and useful description of the world. By the 1570ís, the onus placed on these scientists to describe their vast empire resulted in a series of ambitious large-scale scientific projects. In 1577, the Council of Indies and its principal cosmographer Juan Lopez de Velasco initiated a project to determine the longitude of all of Spain's overseas territories by using a series of lunar eclipse that occurred between 1577 and 1588. Since the discovery of the New World, determining the extent and location of its domains was a principal preoccupation of the Spanish empire. Navigating to and from the New World was fraught with danger, not the least of which was the real and frequent problem of getting lost. In addition, knowing with certainty the location of newly discovered territories carried significant geo-political implications for sixteenth-century Spain. The problem was compounded by the technical difficulties longitude measurements presented Early Modern cosmographers and navigators. The rediscovery of the Ptolemy's Geography in the fifteenth century introduced an alternative method of calculating longitude using lunar eclipses which was well know to Early Modern astronomers. It is, however, the scope of the eclipse project innitiated by Lopez de Velasco in 1577 that is remarkable. His intention was to have observers throughout the world, many without any particular expertise in astronomical matters, measure the same eclipse by following carefully a set of instructions sent to local colonial officials. The observers were to log the results and send them to the Council of Indies for analysis. Back in Spain, cosmographers would complete the necessary mathematical computations and determine the respondentsí longitude. The eclipse project has received little historical attention. I hope to show that, not only did the project yield valuable geographical data, but it also reveals a scientific practice that relied on empirical methods and used mathematics as a tool for achieving utilitarian results. This places Spanish cosmographers squarely in the tradition of Italian and English mathematical practitioners considered the first exponents of a nascent Scientific Revolution. Recent studies in the cultural context of scientific practice have been inclined to associate the emergence of the court philosopher/mathematician during this time with the gradual weakening of Aristotelian natural philosophy because it allowed scientific practitioners to operate outside the restrictive scholasticism of the universities. I will argue that if indeed these new sources of patronage produced an intellectual liberation, it did not come easily, especially not for Spanish cosmographers working in an institutional environment and serving a pragmatic monarch who only sought useful results.

During the Seventeenth Century the medical faculty at the University of Leiden espoused a practical and empirical approach to medical education. For the application of chemistry to medicine, however, students often had to seek instruction outside of the university, taking apprenticeships or public courses with local chemical artisans. With the appointment of Carel de Maets as "provisional" Professor of Chemistry in 1669, regular chemical instruction became available to medical students at the university. Soon, two local apothecary/ physicians, Christiaan Marggraf and Jacob le Mort, began to offer their own courses in competition with De Maets. Each of the three had their own approach to the chemical arts, which they marketed to the public and defended from criticism. Within this competitive arena, medical students tended to blend and borrow from each course, creating a fluid, hybrid "chymica Leydensia" in manuscript and print. This situation continued until Herman Boerhaave's appointment in 1702 as a lecturer in chemistry on the Leiden Medical Faculty. Boerhaave, who ironically took full advantage of the fluid boundary between university and private chemists as a student, ended the competition between lecturers in Leiden by integrating chemistry into the medical curriculum, both pedagogically and philosophically. Ultimately, this paper reveals the extremely permeable boundary between "popular" and "academic" medicine in the early modern university, especially for non-traditional subjects like chemistry.

"Physical and moral regeneration" constituted one of the central aspirations of the French Revolution. Revolutionaries fashioned novel quotidian practices to emphasize national rebirth and the citizen's own break with a past viewed as sick and degenerate. Crucially, physical and moral regeneration involved medical therapeutics for rejuvenating the old regime's morbid despondency, whether in terms of nervous disease (for women and libertine elites) or degeneracy and infertility (for the popular classes). Often associated with radical politics, this paper accentuates regeneration's conservative manifestations after the Reign of Terror and the Thermidorean reaction of 1794. Drawing upon manuscript sources from the Société de l'Ecole de Médecine and the Paris Faculté de Médecine, as well as printed texts by J.-N. Hallé, Pierre Cabanis, Xavier Bichat, and C.-L. Dumas, the analysis shows how practitioners associated with the Paris health schools brought clinical knowledge upon earlier regenerative projects. For them, excessive vitality had enervated the polity and caused social disaggregation; but by studying the "limited sensibility" of living matter, and by applying these insights to health policy, doctors could reverse both Jacobin sensibility and convulsive popular politics. The paper further examines how regular practitioners (L.-J.-M. Robert, J.-J. Virey, J.-A. Millot, J.-G. Salvage, Pierre Desbordeaux) developed ideas about limited sensibility in their extraordinarily popular handbooks on human breeding and family planning. These writers insisted, by contrast, that ordinary citizens could control nervous sensibility through domestic hygiene and orthopedic treatments, thereby sculpting moderate republican citizens along the anatomical lines of (male) neoclassical beauty established by Peter Camper, J.-M. Plane, and T.-B. Emeric-David, amongst others. In their eyes, the family constituted the proper nexus for societal regeneration, though limited in scope, and preferably mediated under paternal and medical authority. In their efforts to stabilize revolutionary politics by infusing republican tenets within traditional law, doctors helped efface revolutionary memory and contributed to the paternalistic family law of the Civil Code in 1804.

Contemporaneous with Kohler's 1994 book Lords of the Fly, laboratory model organism studies proliferated in the history of biology, but more recently, biologists seem to have shown more interest in this genre than historians. This paper will posit several possible reasons for this trend, including the underdeveloped disciplinary interface between work on model organisms in the history of science and work on the representations of animals in anthropology, sociology, and critical theory. This interface, I will argue, still holds unexplored riches for historians interested in documenting the complicated relationship between social and scientific knowledge-making in twentieth century biology and beyond.

The designations 'high' and 'low' have been used by historians of medieval and early modern medicine to indicate the divide between scholastic, text-based medicine taught in the university and lay, empirical medical practice taught by apprenticeship and experience. Medical practitioners have been situated in various places along the spectrum of 'learned' and 'lay,' from doctors at the highest end all the way down to women working in the domestic sphere at the lowest. Although the pre-modern medical marketplace has been depicted as a pluralistic arena of healing, historians of medicine have noted a gulf between learned physicians and the rest of the medical landscape due to doctors' claims to authority based a priori on their university training. A close look at women's domestic medical practice, however, indicates a voluminous exchange of medical information across this chasm separating high and low. Focusing on the medical recipe collection of German noblewoman Elisabeth von Rochlitz (1502-1557), this paper will examine the trafficking of information between medically inclined noblewomen, learned physicians, and lay practitioners. I will argue that Elisabeth constructed her own medical authority that defied the boundaries of learned and lay, garnering information indiscriminately from both doctors and various lay practitioners. Recipes sent to Elisabeth by learned physicians indicate further that this type of interaction between learned and lay practitioners was carried out with an air of mutual aid, not antagonism.

Contrary to the received wisdom holding that logical empiricism emigrated to America without the social and political engagements it maintained in Vienna and Berlin, this paper documents that during the last half of the 1930s logical empiricism was received and respected in America by leftist intellectuals as a socially powerful intellectual project. Emphasis is placed upon Otto Neurath's Unity of Science Movement, led by Neurath with Rudolf Carnap and Charles Morris, and their various relationships and alliances with the so-called New York Intellectuals, including Ernest Nagel, Sidney Hook, Horace Kallen and others. On the basis of this revision, the rise and dominance of logical empiricism as a technical and apolitical political project in the 1950s should be understood not as an effect of emigration but rather as a response to the relatively right-wing intellectual climate of cold war America. Evidence is provided that Neurath, Carnap, and the Unity of Science Movement were perceived inside and outside the academy as socialist or "pink" and that leading philosophers of science in the early 1950s consciously developed philosophy of science as a technical, apolitical profession that downplayed the socialist values and goals characteristic of pre-war logical empiricism.

Although the care and control of the mentally disordered had been an issue in Britain since the beginning of the 20th century, the controversial debate on their sterilisation only emerged in the late 1920s. It shattered the existing consensus on the inheritance of mental deficiency and mental illness, and prompted the Medical Research Council (MRC) to launch five large-scale surveys to investigate this question. This paper will examine the two most important surveys, funded throughout the 1930s: that of Lionel Penrose on the inheritance of mental deficiency and that of Eliot Slater on the inheritance of mental illness. These MRC studies aimed to bridge the gap between asylum medicine and genetics for the first time. Indeed, although the question of the inheritance of mental disorder lay at the frontier between psychiatry and genetics, for the past 30 years it had been studied separately by clinicians and university-based geneticists. The former continued to use archaic models of inheritance, while the latter largely ignored the clinical complexity of their subject matter. Examining the work of both Penrose and Slater, this paper will focus on the issues raised, and the exchange of knowledge that took place, when borders were crossed between asylum medicine and genetics. It will contrast the two men's very different approaches to this combination of expertise. Ultimately, these surveys were instrumental in changing the perception of the inheritance of mental deficiency and mental illness and contributed to the emergence of two new disciplines after the war, mirroring the different approaches of Penrose and Slater: human genetics and psychiatric genetics.

In 1826, Richard Whately, described logic as "the Grammar of Reasoning. . .the form to which all correct reasoning may be ultimately reduced." With this interpretation, the Oxford don, tried to transform the dried husk of scholastic logic into a central player on the intellectual stage of radically reforming England. Soon after he published this definition, Whately was enveloped by the demands of a new position as Arch-Bishop of Dublin, and it took some time for his compatriots to develop his vision further. In the 1840s, however, Whately's approach was picked up and developed by two rather different people: John Stuart Mill and Augustus De Morgan. This paper will explore the reasonable logics of Whately, Mill, and De Morgan.

This talk examines the reconception of the formal aspect of logic that took place in algebraic logic with De Morgan and Boole in the 1840s. It argues that the key conceptual move is a newly rigorized conception of the formal. Logic had long been considered to be formal in the sense of abstracting from or generalizing over mental content and, thus, as involving only the form of the mind. Especially in the work of Boole, the formal becomes the symbolic: a system of signs that is "disinterpreted," i.e. that lacks intrinsic interpretation and is multiply interpretable. This allows Boole to suggest in 1847 that the "definitive character" of logic is "a true Calculus" and expressible in the language of algebra. The interpretation has the virtue of providing an explanation of why algebra and logicñnotwithstanding the work of Leibniz, which has been a bit of a red herring in discussions of 19th-century logicñonly came together in the 19th century: it was only in the 19th century that the modern notion of the symbol as disinterpreted was widely accepted in algebra itself. The talk ends with some ruminations about the relation of logic and mind for Boole and his successors in light of the symbolic nature of logic and suggests this is one of many places where philosophy began to lose its mind in the 19th century.

When William Bateson began exploring sources of variation in nature in the mid-1890s, he tapped a new resource of scientific researchers in Cambridge--undergraduate and post-graduate women reading botany and zoology. This arrangement was mutually beneficial. Bateson obtained much needed assistance to carry out his new breeding program in Mendelism at a time when few Cambridge men were interested in such a marginal and untested field. The women were pleased to contribute to an exciting new area of research in which they could well utilize their biological knowledge and expertise and also thereby to gain a male mentor to help them navigate the highly gendered world of British science. With few external resources to support this new research program, Bateson and his group tapped any and all available means to carry out their work. This included the domestic arena, including the facilities at BatesonÌs country home as well as those available to members of Newnham and Girton Colleges. The research into the basis for heredity carried out by Bateson's research group between 1895 and 1910 was thus very much dependent on a kind of familial network. This paper will examine how this network well supported the experiments carried out by this group at a critical period in establishing the legitimacy of the new field of genetics. It will also show that it well served the particular needs of women in science at a time when their access to normal scientific channels for pursuing advanced research were restricted. It will argue that the ÏdomesticationÓ of research can be seen as having enhanced both science and its practitioners.

Historians are increasingly coming to recognize the Scientific Revolution as a period in which the border between 'art' and 'nature' -- categories defined by Aristotle as inviolably opposed - became less and less stable. Whether by the growing importance of mathematical abstraction, experiment or natural history collections, through which knowledge of nature was built on a foundation of artistic intervention and representation, early-modern science practically celebrated the collapsing distinction between 'art' and 'nature'. And this at a time when the reach of European abilities and desires had expanded around the globe to challenge the limiting contours of both geographical borders and those that separated 'civilization' from 'wilderness.'

Perhaps the best location for tracing this history is in the botanical and pleasure gardens of Early-Modern Europe, where new-world specimens mingled with geometrical expression, experimental practices and technological prowess to render a culturally powerful image of the world. In fact, gardens had not respected Aristotle's distinction since Adam and Eve left Eden; gardens are, by definition, hybrids of nature and art. This point gained historical specificity early on with Hero of Alexandria's Pneumatics, which describes an abundance of waterworks and automatic contrivances that graced Roman gardens, mixing the principles of nature -especially the motive power of water, heat and steam - with the mechanical genius of human craft. But as increasingly sophisticated automata and elaborate waterworks came to furnish the gardens of Renaissance and Early-Modern Europe, the practical transgression of nature and art's idealized separation took a new turn. Gardens became an important site for the inventive development of machines that included the steam engine. So too did their contents inspire philosophical inventiveness, including what we have come to know as the mechanical philosophy. If the spread of Newtonian principles during the eighteenth century helped further the complicity of scientific and technological advance, the growing popularity of naturalistic, 'English' gardens during the same period involved using artifice to re-impose at least the illusion of a border between nature and art. By sculpting gardens in imitation of the surrounding countryside, garden architects worked to make the borders of their projects invisible; constructed landscapes should simply merge with that which surrounded them. And, if machines such as steam engines continued to appear in the garden, they took on a naturalized guise. The result was to assist in the historical erasure of an important site for developments that marked both the so-called Scientific and Industrial Revolutions.

After the Restoration, natural philosophers attempted to rid the world of occult causes and to explain invisible forces like solar and lunar emanations via the mechanical philosophy, mathematical, and chemical systems. This examination of occult causes extended to the tides, or the effects of the sunshine and moonbeams upon the seas. Scholarly analysis of seventeenth-century tidal theories has primarily focused on Galilean, Cartesian, and Keplerian ideas, or upon the origins of Wallis and NewtonÌs gravitational models. Tidal theory in early modern England thus was in a pre-paradigmatic state, evincing a multiplicity of conflicting arguments. Despite the multiplicity of explanations about the occult causes of the tides that existed, no scholarly research has been done analyzing chemical models of the seaÌs flux and reflux, in particular those proposed by poet and miscellaneous writer Thomas Philipot (d. 1682). In 1673, he published a "Phylosophical Essay" in which he proposed a theory of the tides based on chemical reactions and atmospheric pressure caused by the emanations of the sun and the moon on the seas. As Antonio Clericuzio and Allen Debus have illustrated, by the 1670s and 1680s, English scientists such as John Webster, Thomas Sherley, and William Simpson blended the iatrochemistry of physician Joan Baptista van Helmont (1579-1644) with chemist Robert BoyleÌs (1627-1691) corpuscularianism and the mechanical philosophy, applying the results to medicine. This paper illustrates that Philipot similarly applied such models, with a focus upon fixed and volatile salts, to the seaÌs flux and reflux. Utilizing archival evidence, it also is demonstrated that Royal Society member Robert Moray was privately doing experiments to test such iatrochemical models of tidal motion.

In 1838, the French Academy of Sciences appointed an investigatory commission to observe and test claims that young Leonide Pigeaire could read books hitherto unknown to her while blindfolded in a mesmeric trance. She had been performing her talents in front of an audience that included renown figures such as Georges Sand. A few years later, Angelique Cottin began exhibiting somatic electricity that caused objects to move around her; she attracted the attention of a Dr. Tanchou, who studied the girl's electrical charge and published a collection of his correspondence regarding the case (Angelique was also investigated by a commission from the Academy). My paper compares the ways in which these contemporary cases of pubescent paranormal phenomena were presented to the public. While both subjects were girls, they were of different social classes. Cottin was an uneducated peasant living in a village in Normandy. Leonide Pigeaire, on the other hand, was an upperclass daughter of a society woman who promoted the young somnabulist's performances through correspondence with interested doctors who were part of the family's social network; Leonide Pigeaire's father, Dr. Jules Pigeaire, was a published scientist who first arranged for his daughter to perform her clairvoyance in Paris before the Academy of Medicine. My paper analyzes the cases of Leonide Pigeaire and Angelique Cottin in their immediate scientific context, where issues of credibility regarding the cases were debated on the pages of prestigious medical journals. These debates engaged questions of whether menarche enhanced psychic sensitivity, for instance. In addition, I situate the two cases within a larger context of cultural epistemology where sensationist psychology was viewed increasingly with suspicion. Because it presupposed consciousness as derivative of sensual impressions, sensationism called into question the prospect of divinely endowed moral and spiritual essence. In this context, the possibility that children, especially girls, could achieve a position of authority within the experimental exchange was troubling because while it offered the reassuring possibility that the girls' powers were gifts from God, it simultaneously antagonized the prescribed social order.

In 1908, the German zoologist Alexander Sokolowsky published a small study entitled Beobachtungen über die Psyche der Menschenaffen (Observations on the psyche of the great apes). The goal of the book was to present a brief introduction to the psychological, intellectual, and emotional lives of gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans. As Scientific Assistant at Carl Hagenbeck's Tierpark -- at the time, the largest animal dealership in the world -- Sokolowsky had perhaps more extensive animal resources available for his research than anyone else at the time. Having had the opportunity to study not simply one or two apes, but at least five or six of each species, Sokolowsky was in a unique, and many would have considered enviable, position to reach some general conclusions about the similarities and differences between the great apes. A pupil of Ernst Haeckel, Sokolowsky was, in the end, convinced that the different anthropoid species had distinct psychological constitutions. Whereas he saw, for example, a more careful and thoughtful nature among the gorillas, he found orangutans melancholic and chimpanzees lacking an ability to focus carefully on one task. Sokolowsky's sentimentality, his romantic associations of intellect with loneliness, and his anxieties about reckless energy mark his work as stemming from a particular historical moment. They also mark his work as stemming from the peculiar setting of an animal trading firm and zoological garden. This paper will examine Sokolowsky's scientific work, which went far beyond this small study of apes, and consider its relation to the activities of Hagenbeck's Tierpark, a commercial enterprise with objectives quite different from the more traditional zoological gardens of the period.

In the 1945 Harvard Redbook report, General Education in a Free Society, the authors of the science section railed against the common description of the scientific method that had gained widespread acceptance in the public schools as well as in society at large. "Nothing could be more stultifying . . . than a rigorous tabular progression through the supposed ëstepsí of the scientific method, with perhaps the further requirement that the student not only memorize but follow this sequence in his attempt to understand natural phenomena." Though most historians and philosophers of science today (to say nothing of scientists) would concur in this negative assessment, the historical question remains of how this algorithmic view of scientific epistemology (so seemingly disagreeable to scientists) became reified in the teaching and culture of the school science classroom. Its origins can be traced to the early decades of the twentieth century when Progressive-Era advocacy of scientific method by members of the American scientific elite met the pedagogical demands of created by the growing numbers of students flooding the elementary and high schools in the years before World War I. This paper explores how a handful of key science educators based around the University of Chicago repackaged the dominant scientific ideology of the time into a form suitable for the new phenomenon of mass public education.

Adam Smith, while best known for his contributions to political economy, also wrote three lengthy essays on the history of science. His interests in natural philosophy were also longstanding, fueled in part by his friendships with Joseph Black, William Cullen, and James Hutton, and more importantly by his own investigations into botany and physiology. This paper argues that certain topics in Smith's economic theory reflect his grounding in natural philosophy. His labor theory of value appears to have been partly shaped by the concept of fixed air; his emphasis on deception in economic activity borrows from his study of the history of astronomy. Furthermore, there are aspects of his economic scheme that suggest the absorption of Linnaeus' oeconomy of nature.

Historical writing about scientific instruments has been on the increase, but its authors surprisingly often fail to consider the objects preserved in museum collections. I will show the perils of ignoring material culture by evaluating David Hockney's claims that many great artists since the Renaissance secretly took advantage of camera obscuras, camera lucidas, lenses, and mirrors in producing their paintings. Hockney argues from the visual evidence of the canvas, which to his eye is both too accurate and too faulty to have been painted without technological props. His critics counter that the artists were sufficiently skilled to paint so well by freehand methods. What has been lost in the debate is recourse to the actual scientific instruments themselves. In point of fact, the early modern instruments and technology of producing mirrors and lenses were not up to the tasks Hockney gives them. Recognizing these limitations is critical not only to evaluating the Hockney thesis, but also to assessing the achievements of Galileo or the claims of someone like Kircher. This paper will show the importance of engaging with real objects when doing instrument studies.

On the basis of a "topographical map" of the Goettingen mathematical-physical community of the late Kaiserreich, the variety of places where, and groups within which science was learned, performed, and discussed is exhibited. It is then asked along which social, cultural, and scientific lines these places and groups had been established. Examples like the "hidden curriculum" of scientific student clubs or "exclusive" research circles on the one hand, and the work within the university seminars or the discussions in the official professorial gatherings (Academy, Mathematical Society) on the other hand, are then compared with respect to their role in the development of theoretical physics in Goettingen. This development was particularly one from a truly phenomenological and descriptive science to a rather atomistic and speculative one, in which quantum physics could flourish. It can, however, neither be explained within a history of a single discipline nor as the result of the program of an individual scientist. Hence, the question has to be addressed how a kind of a "mesocosmic" history of science can be written, that explores the social space between the discipline and the individual scientist and that identifies driving forces for local scientific development that may be associated with some of the circles and groups which the map of the scientific community had offered.

Historical studies of organisms as models or tools in the life sciences typically have analyzed the careers of laboratory organisms in association with particular disciplines or subdisciplinary groups, sets of problems, or individual researchers. These case-based accounts have focused primarily on organisms that continue to flourish in laboratories today, as evidenced by the National Institutes of Health's Model Organisms for Biomedical Research program. Historians and philosophers have had more difficulty, however, with the analysis of model organisms whose appearance in laboratories has been more fleeting. This paper will consider the temporal and physical movement of model organisms and the model systems they reproduced across disciplined spaces in the life sciences. It will explore how the transience of the careers of some laboratory organisms can itself be a tool for elucidating transformations in conceptions of model organisms and understanding how they have functioned in the life sciences.

Relations between the scientists and the Army officers working on the Manhattan Project were often strained. The origins of this tension have largely been understood as stemming from the conflict between the scientists' desire for openness and the Army's desire for secrecy. But the security records of the Manhattan Project indicate that a deeper source of this tension was the clash between Army officers acculturated to a loathing of communism and the suspicion of an international Jewish subversive conspiracy, and the many Jewish scientists on the Manhattan Project, often left-leaning.

In spite of a large body of research that has examined the interactions between science and the military for World War II, there is a somewhat surprising dearth of such studies for the so-called 'great war.' What works there are have focused principally on the impacts of new technologies (the tank, air-warfare--both in Zeppelins and Aeroplanes--the submarine, and communications) or on chemical weapons and agricultural/food production. If world war two was the "physicist's war," world war one was presumably the engineer's or the chemist's. Yet, to divide the topic up this way is to write history only in terms of impact, not in terms of participation. This paper, which treats the German case, begins by noting the sheer number of physicists who were involved in war-time activities, many of which were connected with their physical research. In particular, my focus is on a group of young men connected by the fact that all were students of the theoretical physicist, Arnold Sommerfeld. For these men, "theoretical" dissertation topics on hydrodynamics, X-ray Crystallography and electromagnetic theory became part of war-time work on air-craft design, medical X-ray machine technology and wireless telegraphy. Using the letters that they wrote back to their supervisor from the field, one can attempt to reconstruct the way in which young theoreticians became "the Kaiser's Physicists." In addition, this study allows one a different look into the early history of theoretical physics. Usually portrayed as a discipline founded on the esoteric topics of quantum and relativity theories, the activities of the students of the Sommerfeld School points to the existence of another kind of theoretical physics. If Max Planck helped to found a modern "physics of principles," then the style of the Sommerfeld School might be termed a "physics of problems." Problems that could readily lend themselves to war-time activities in the service of the Empire. In terms of "boundary crossings," this paper attempts to blur the boundary between "theoretical" and "applied" science. The discourse of a "pure" theoretical physics is not, I argue, an outcome of the subject matter or inherent properties of the discipline, but rather has been constructed in the decades on either side of 1914. If physics "lost its innocence" after the bombing of Hiroshima, it was an innocence it had only really possessed after its manufacture in the inter-war years.

Through his work on behalf of the American Buffalo (bison) - and in particular his construction of the Buffalo Group museum display at the Smithsonian - hunter, taxidermist and animal conservationist William Temple Hornaday (1854-1937) participated in a dramatic shift in museum and zoo display in late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century America. Drawing on Hornaday and the buffalo's linked histories, I will explore the integral relations among animal extinction, taxidermic representation and live animal display during this period. I examine the linked transformations of both animate and inanimate (i.e. once-animate) three-dimensional representations of native wild mammals in the United States. To this end, I argue through the lens of Hornaday's concern for, and work on behalf of, the buffalo -- his role in the species ascent from near extinction (consumed as if an unlimited resource) to salvation and proliferation (as a national icon) in wildlife refufes and zoological parks throughout the nation. The developments of natural science and museological practice in a North American context, arose amidst a nexus of manikin-makers, zoo directors and nativists. The meaning of native "wildlife" during this period, I argue, emerged "taxidermically" speaking.

During the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945), Chinese geologists followed the retreating Nationalist government into the "Interior" provinces and continued their scientific investigations in the previously remote west. Geologists represented a centralized notion of the Chinese nation-state in a territory that was at once part of their beloved homeland and yet wholly unfamiliar and often unwelcoming. By analyzing the interactions of local people and relocated geologists, this paper takes up the question of national identity from the perspective of earth studies, which relied on local knowledge, contributed to the national interest, and gestured towards global science in a time of crisis. This paper addresses the living conditions of geologists adjusting to "internal exile" and balances these material and practical factors against the concepts of nation implied by the institutional reorganizations, scientific agendas, and patriotic rhetoric of the wartime period. I argue that the experience of alienation from coastal China and acclimation to inland regions cemented the boundaries of the nation-state in the imaginations of Chinese geologists, who began shifting their loyalties from the government they served to the land they studied.

During the early 1830s, Mary Brenton botanized up and down the coast of Newfoundland as she accompanied her father, a Supreme Court judge, on trips to perform his Circuit Court duties. Through family connections she had been recruited to collect local specimens for the flora that William Hooker, then professor of botany in Glasgow, was compiling of indigenous plants from British North America. During that same time, Harriet Sheppard botanized with her children on the north shore of the St. Lawrence River near the family home in Quebec, where she and her husband, both keen students of natural history, were central players in what became the first natural history society in Lower Canada. Mary Brenton and Harriet Sheppard each contributed more than 100 plants to Hooker's "Flora Boreali-Americana" (1829-40), a foundational botanical reference work on Canadian plants. Their letters to Hooker illustrate material circumstances of colonial collecting and make possible a historical reconstruction of the networks that led to their work. Family ties, social networks, and mutually beneficial patterns of need and use forged informal links in a "new" land that anchored these women (and others too) to scientific projects at "home."

In the eighteenth century, some of the most respectable physicians wrote popular medical books, and claimed to offer enlightened advice on health. They saw their works as being radically different from, and superior to, the previous popular medical literature, which was accused of mingling medicine with superstition and magic. Arguably one of the most famous medical texts of the Enlightenment was Samuel Auguste AndrÈ David Tissot's Avis au peuple sur sa santÈ (1761), a book written, as its title indicates, for the people. It would be mistaken, however, to deduce from this title the nature of the readership for this most successful book. We can have a certain idea of its actual audience by looking at the unpublished letters from sufferers that were sent to Tissot. These letters reveal that Tissot's Avis was not only used by/for the people, but also by nobles and for horses. How, then, can we explain the discrepancy between the intended and the actual audiences? How was this book appropriated by readers belonging to different social groups? What did each group take from it? It is these questions that will be at the center of my paper.

Family connections abounded in 19th and early 20th century botany and zoology. These included husbands and wives, sisters and brothers, fathers and daughters, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. There were even quite complex networks, as with the Cobbs and Blanchards, involving Frieda Cobb's father, mother, brother and husband. Nepotism often reared its somethimes ugly, sometimes helpful, head. Husband and wife connections were commonest, but patterns varied: I. husband, the creator of science, wife the executor (lab assistant, artist, microscopist); II. husband the scientist/professor, wife originally his student; III husband and wife both well trained in science before marriage. Various outcomes were possible. In some cases both partners had positions and did research in the same or different fields. In others, custom or actual nepotism rules prevented the wife from obtaining a position, or, in the Curie sub-type, the husband died and the wife obtained his position. Brothers helped each other and paved the way into science for sisters; fathers and occasionally mothers mentored daughters. Characters include the Sullivants (type I); Comstocks and Clements (type II); Blanchards, Lemmons, Whitmans, Brittons, Hutchinson/Pickford (type III), as well as siblings and larger family networks. There were also important pseudo-family connections to these people in the form of correspondence networks, important in the creation and circulation of knowledge.

Typical historical and popular accounts of inflationary cosmology present it as a well-accepted addition to standard cosmology. Guth (1981)'s compelling presentation of the merits of an "inflationary universe" immediately inspired a great deal of interest, leading to the birth of a new field (and a place for the paper on the top ten list of most cited physics papers of the last two decades). Inflation promised to solve several persistent problems in cosmology, and it was also based on crucial ingredients of the then popular minimal grand unified theories. Triumphal histories of inflation (such as Guth's memoir) serve double duty: as historical accounts of the development of the field, but also as an extended argument for the scientific merits of inflationary cosmology. In contrast, the prominent historian and philosopher of science John Earman has offered a sustained critical analysis with the explicit goal of "deflating inflation." In this paper I will address the historiographical challenge presented by this conflict of authorities: in particular, the difficulty of balancing the partisan accounts of the proponents of inflation with Earman's philosophically informed critical assessment. My (partial) answer is to draw a distinction between the contexts of pursuit and persuasion (borrowing this terminology from Michel Janssen). Guth and others have enjoyed tremendous success in convincing their colleagues that inflation was an idea worthy of pursuit and further development. Widespread support for this line of research led to the development of a growing research community devoted to early universe cosmology (primarily focused on inflation). I will argue that the same tactics have not been as successful in the context of persuasion, in which inflationary cosmologists have aimed to convince the wider community that inflation has fulfilled its initial promise, and thus deserves to be treated as on par with the widely accepted big bang model. Accepting this distinction allows one to acknowledge the force behind the persuasive tactics of Guth et al., while still leaving room for the discontent with inflation expressed by Earman and other critics of inflation.

Arthur Conan Doyle, reflecting on his creation of Sherlock Holmes, claimed that he had 'tried to build up a scientific detective.' He accused his fellow detective-writer Poe of only giving the 'illusion' of scientific method. Doyle believed that he succeeded where Poe had failed: thus he has Watson remark that Holmes has 'brought detection as near an exact science as it will ever be brought in this world.' In Doyle's works we find an appropriation of scientific methods and the language of science. By examining Doyle's notion of a 'scientific detective,' we can gain insight into the popular image of science that appeared in British literature in the 19th century. I will argue that this popular image was a particular kind of Baconianism, and that this fit into a resurgence of interest in Bacon among writers on and practitioners of science in this period. I will also argue that, just as detective fiction took on the language and imagery of science, so too writings on science took on the language and imagery of detection. Not only did it seem important to consider detection a science, but also science was seen as a form of detection. T.H. Huxley, for example, argued that the scientist used a similar method as the detective, comparing Cuvier's reconstruction of extinct animals from bone fragments to a detective's discovery of the burglar from marks made by his shoe. As the example of Cuvier suggests, this assimilation of science with detection had to do with rise in interest in paleontology and comparative anatomy at the time. (Richard Owen had more recently, according to popular myth, reconstructed an extinct bird from a mere fragment of bone.) My paper will explore the permeability of the boundary between science and literature in this period.

In the 'Golden Age' of geology and Romanticism in Britain, the cave was constructed as a cultural space that served the young science as territory for new insights into prehistory and as icon of scientific enlightenment. However, British caves had a history in folklore that predated the onset of geological exploration, and some had long been inhabited by monsters or fairies. Moreover, antiquaries, fossil hunters, and even tourists shared the established geologists' interest in the underground. Conceiving of the cave as a many-layered political space, the paper argues that several groups competed in the quest for this 'new' territory, among them those who strove for the power to read the past. The Romantic poets, building on literary, religious and folkloristic traditions, turned the cave into a source for individual as well as societal change, exploring it as the realm of the 'subconscious'. Questioning whether such an object as the Romantic cave existed, the paper is interested in how different visitors experienced the underground - whether they shared the aesthetics of the sublime - and in how caves were constructed to serve alternative purposes.

The paper will examine how Johann Rudolph Glauber (1604-70), a German alchemist living in Amsterdam, imagined his own experience and authority and how he sought to fashion them when he wished to make claims about the natural world. A starting point will be his Gespräch-Buchlein (1663), an alchemical dialogue between a master and novitiate. I will compare the Gespräch-Buchlein to other contemporary alchemical dialogues, including Boyle's Sceptical Chymist (1661). Glauber's portrayal of the adept's laboratory and of the adept's own body as sites of knowledge-creation will be explored. His attitudes toward demonstration and experiment will be assessed. Glauber was a handworker without university education; his attempts to refashion himself as a natural philosopher were the obverse of the attempts of Boyle, a gentleman, to appropriate craft knowledge on behalf of natural philosophy.

In eighteenth-century French writings on exotic plants and their uses and cultivation, natural history, commerce and the condition of the nation were all closely interlinked. As enterprises of colonialism began to take off during the first half-century, individuals representing the Crown, commercial interests and scientific institutions cooperated in bringing the triple instruments of commercial exploitation, natural historical modes of managing nature, and foreign policies of the early modern state into alignment. Domestic medical and botanical practitioners turned to natural historical knowledge to police the sale and usage of medicaments and foods and to legitimate their developing relations with the State. Discussions of exotic naturalia and materia medica were divided between representations of new uses of exotic natural substances as harmful, addictive luxuries and the view that non-indigenous, plant-derived luxuries could be converted into sources of profit for the state. Collectively, useful plants came to be known in France as "economic" plants, reflecting the appearance of exotic naturalia in publications on household management, the dominant discourse of economy in the first half of the eighteenth century. Through a study of conflicting views about the nature, location and proper uses of plant resources, I will show how the state and limits of the nation were configured by debates over economic plants. One crucial factor in understanding plants as economic objects depends upon the recognition that plants possessed economic potential in a different form from most other goods, by virtue of their power to reproduce themselves in new settings. Botanists implicated in programmes of colonial exploitation and the centralisation of national natural historical resources thus concerned themselves to a large degree with technologies of reproduction and propagation. Such moves took place against an increasingly vocal chorus of dissent directed against global projects for botanical intervention, characterised by the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in which cultivational practices were themselves a form of denaturing. Here fundamental distinctions over the relationship between Nature and human activities were manifest; in particular, could the historical activities which had brought cultivated peaches, among others, into common consumption be justified in moral terms?

I take the case of the University of Cambridge Natural Sciences Tripos (NST), an undergraduate science curriculum and its associated exam, to study the question of specialization in science training from 1914 to 1950. Historians have documented well the nineteenth-century debates over the purpose of a Cambridge education; the history of the NST in the late nineteenth century shows a trend toward depth of training that many have supposed to be inevitable in light of the increasing professionalization and specialization of science practice. However, 'breadth' as well as 'depth' of science education remained a goal of NST pedagogy for many of its administrators in the period 1914 to 1950. They faced the important question of how to keep the Tripos accessible and relevant to students with career plans including medicine, teaching, and public service, while offering rigorous and up to date training for future researchers. In discussing this problem, many individuals who favored the NST as a course of research training seized on rhetoric used in nineteenth-century debates over the purpose of a Cambridge education. In a reversal from the time of William Whewell, the so-called 'research lobby' often claimed to advocate a form of 'liberal' education and condemned 'vocational' training. I argue that these terms had taken on new meanings in the context of the NST in the interwar years, and that the distinction made between training for vocations and training for research suggests a shift in the way science was perceived at the ancient university. Within the established structure of the NST, 'breadth' was maintained vigorously in Part I of the Tripos; future researchers went on to specialize on Part II. During this period the content of Part II exam papers changed dramatically, demanding hitherto unprecedented depth of knowledge on areas of contemporary research. Advocates claimed that this integration of breadth and depth was supposed to allow graduates of the NST Part II to do something more than what we might call 'normal science.'

Based on my recent devices of wonder exhibition at the J. Paul Getty museum in Los Angeles, I want to argue that early-modern instruments, like 21st century sensory apparatus, exceed the rhetoric of technological efficiency --i.e., mere "aids" in the service of other, superior representations. I will explore some of the key ways in which instruments artificially intensified reality. Further, I will suggest that the sheer diversity of mirrors, microscopes, camera obscuras, perspective boxes, and magic lanterns , and the multiplicity of uses to which these were put, demonstrate there is no such thing as a legacy application. The reminder that not all media do the same thing might help the 21st century networked user (and designer) who is simultaneously enthralled by immersive environments and encouraged to compress all media into a single multimedium.

Peter Galison and Alexi Assmus have described the development of C.T.R. Wilson's cloud chamber to result from the interplay of mimetic and analytic traditions of experimental physics, sharply distinguished by the contrasting sites and authorities of Ben Nevis and John Aitken on the one hand, and the Cavendish Laboratory and J.J. Thomson on the other. This paper will show that there was an intermediary tradition of meteorological physics already present in the Cavendish Laboratory that is likely to have played an important role in the timing of Wilson's work, and in setting the goals that Wilson addressed. This tradition was represented in another of Wilson's teachers, William Napier Shaw (who is best known to historians of physics for his role as a Demonstrator introducing laboratory-based practical

physics into Cambridge). Shaw's work on cloud formation shows that it was not only Ben Nevis haloes and Cambridge matter physics that inspired a new use of the cloud chamber: Cambridge fogs played their part also. Further, an analysis of Wilson's notebooks and publications will show that the important

step of eliminating dust from the air within the chamber did not remove Wilson's experiments from the mimetic tradition. Rather than the fundamental opposition that Galison and Assmus have implied, Wilson's work represents a sustained and fruitful interplay between mimesis and analysis (but one that

also proved controversial). Why has it been so easy for historians to neglect Shaw's role in the development of Wilson's research? I will seek to ground an understanding of this historiographical blind-spot in a study of the way CTRW drew on the contrasting research and pedagogical strategies of two different Cambridge authorities, his professor (JJT) and the lecturer/demonstrator (WNS).

Bringing the research tools of contemporary science to bear on historic artifacts allows a historian, often in collaboration with scientists, to approach old questions in new ways. The X-ray beams at Argonne National Laboratory are beginning to yield information about astrolabes in the collection of the Adler Planetarium & Astronomy Museum that will permit us to study their manufacture, and perhaps judge their authenticity. These methods are applicable to artifacts in other collections.

The focus of this paper is the translation of notions of power, energy and work into the public culture of the late eighteenth century. In an age of increasing mechanical innovation and concomitant transformation in industrial practices, the difficulty in defining scientific principles,and of asserting the physical limits of new inventions reflected opportunity as well as confusion. This is demonstrated in the expanding regime of patent application throughout the eighteenth century. The effort to design more efficient forms of power translation, as in newly-designed water wheels, wind mills, and in steam engines, created an audacious language of mechanical description the meaning of which was highly contested. It is further reflected in the numerous claims to design machines which could 'abridge' the efforts of workers in industrial settings and in the frequent, and hotly-disputed, claims of savings in power and fuel consumption. It is proposed here that the definition of physical principles was crucial to the establishment of popular confidence in industrialism. Conflicts in the public realm over mechanical principles were reflected in the obstacles to absorbing the meaning of Newtonian concepts of momentum and inertia, in difficulties over friction, or in Watt's transformation of the established and understandable notion of horsepower. The public interest in the assignment of patent rights and in the efforts to define concepts of mechanical capacity in new inventions, was revealed in the widespread circulation of reports on experimental trials on efficiency and power. This public concern was further reflected in long-standing disputes between entrepreneurs, investors, inventors, projectors and charlatans which came to a head in the industrialism of late eighteenth-century Britain.

In August 1957 the first international conference on origin of life research was convened in Moscow. Just months later, after Sputnik, the Space Age made possible searching for life, or the conditions allowing life's origin, on other planets. NASA quickly became chief patron of research along both these lines, and the two were merged at conferences and other venues into a new discipline called exobiology. From the first, established fields such as biochemistry and evolutionary biology produced both strong support and staunch resisters of the new discipline, especially because of its inherently interdisciplinary nature. That feature also presented obstacles to funding from NSF and NIH. By 1973 or so, however, exobiology had achieved many of the hallmarks of consolidation into a stable new disciplinary identity: journals, a professional society, regular meetings, etc. This paper explores the resistance to exobiology and how the field nonetheless persevered and even, in 1997, dramatically expanded to become astrobiology.

Molecular Evolution, a discipline recently constituted around the 70s, is a good illustration of the role played by terms, inscriptions (Latour) and concepts in the constitution of a complex social-epistemological framework. Concepts such as "informational molecules", "molecular clock", "neutral mutations" and "satellite-DNA" played an important role in the consolidation of the new discipline, not because they introduced clear-cut defined concepts, but because the construction of meaning for these terms concentrates the social, technological and scientific efforts of a community in its way to constitute a new scientific territory. Talking of informational molecules (or semantides) firsts opened up a rhetorical space in which traditional organismic studies did not have a room. Moreover, the term played a crucial role in the history of Molecular Evolution by integrating different types of scientific traditions, which until that moment had developed in a mostly autonomous way.

J.G. Ballard's writings are amongst the most compelling investigations of the changes wrought in western subjectivity by Cold War technology. I will negotiate the relations between the images of Ballard's writing and the visible relics of the Cold War, which Ballard presents as the evolutionary exoskeleton of the contemporary psyche, remnants of ramifications of power. I will treat Ballard's imagery as a guide to the fossil record of the Cold War as it remains in ruined installations, text, movies, photos and the contemporary psyche - the 'helix of some ideological DNA' as he puts it. I will approach the continuing presence of the Cold War from the outside, its destinations in the everyday, as a trace fossil where only a negative imprint remains while the creature itself has long decayed. This will map its former shape and provide a site from which to chart contemporary inscriptions of power and technology.

The controversy surrounding the introduction of the Chinese Medicine Registration Bill 2000 into the Victorian Parliament at the start of the millennium highlighted the problem of communication and conversation between orthodox and heterodox medical practitioners in Australia and in the state of Victoria in particular. It demonstrated the need to construct a translating knowledge space between traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) and biomedicine that is founded upon a new understanding of science. I suggest that within this translating knowledge space, this conversation can be improved by putting the emphasis on practices and de-emphasising mutual theoretical explanation.The local performance, enactment and the doing of the disparate practices of TCM and biomedicine and their interactions through a symmetrical translation network constitute an emergent knowledge space through which the two knowledge systems can be locally compared and contrasted, worked together and translated symmetrically, mutually and reciprocally. Emergent practices drawing on both traditions in the context of the clinic materializes a translating knowledge space between the two distinct bodies of medical knowledge systems.

The early twentieth century controversy on American forests was polarized between the preservationist and industrial positions. Drawing upon methods developed in history of field sciences (Robert Kohler and Henrika Kuklick), I examine how scientific forestry established the institutional setting in which people began to bridge and fit these conflicting views. Through the mastery of nature and technologies of representing it, the advocates of science assumed, the conflict would be put to rest. From 1900 onwards, forestry schools began to produce knowledge of how forests behave and assess the quantity of American stands. The domestication of American forests through visual practices was a key tactic of this strategy. Scientists could not demonstrate their arguments about the quantity, and behavior of forests through laboratory replication. Instead, they developed technologies of representation -photographs, drawings and maps of forests- and appropriated them as scientific proof. This "visual harvest" raised the visibility of scientists' work and empowered them to reconcile conflicting ideas of forest in the name of "objective evidence".

Charles Baudelaire analysed the demeanour, appearance, and attitude of the dandy as a central form of the "heroism of modern life" in nineteenth-century Paris. To treat one's outward appearance and inner state of mind as a project--- as objects that can be altered and molded according to will and method- implies a certain ontology of the self, one which holds that the "natural" human being can be changed, indeed improved, by the application of artifice, in techniques as diverse as makeup, fashion, will, prayer, and writing. This paper places Baudelaire's epistemology of dandyism within a much broader cosmological shift that is particularly in evidence in France in the first half of the nineteenth century. The dandy's reconstruction of the individual body is one version of cosmological theories advocating the reconstruction of nature. Due to the stunning transformations in the natural and social worlds brought by the arts and sciences of this time, powers were often attributed to humanity that approached those of a demiurge. This paper focuses on three individuals working in France in the first half of the nineteenth century, examining the interconnections among their arguments and actions with respect to representations of individuals, society, and nature: the engineer, political economist and statesman Charles Dupin; the romantic astronomer, engineer and politician François Arago; and the novelist Honoré de Balzac, whose natural history of society directed a physiognomic gaze upon the different species of French society. Each took as his aim the description of the "cosmic body" in its various dimensions, with the ultimate goal of bringing about a new "organization" among its various parts. Although their projects have now been divided up among current disciplines, their shared goal of re-engineering nature put them within the same horizon as Baudelaire, whose reflections on dandyism were a highly concentrated if idiosyncratic expression of this distinctly modern cosmological shift.

Twelfth and thirteenth century romances abound with metal people, or human automata, and the people responsible for making them. The types of skills the fictional creators of the fictional automata needed varied from philosophy to necromancy to metal-working. At the same time, philosophers were wrestling with previously unknown science, as well as trying to grapple with the validity and place of the mechanical arts. In the wise men, poets, and necromancers responsible for the human automata, we can see evidence of contemporary tensions around defintions of legitmate and illegitimate knowledge, practical and theoretical knowledge, and the value and validity of mimetic representation.

This paper will discuss some prominent examples of the use in the twentieth century of the idea that de-centering the Earth was a cause of anxiety amongst participants in the Copernican Revolution. I will trace the source this idea in twentieth century thought, and will explore the purposes for which this idea is trotted out. (That is, what is achieved by mentioning this supposed anxiety? What point about the nature of science is being made?). One important example of the invocation of supposed consequences of the Copernican Revolution is twentieth century cosmology's "Copernican Principle", which says that the Earth should never be considered to occupy a "special" place in the universe. By extension of this idea, the dark matter problem has been said to suggest a new "Copernican" revolution: whereas Copernicus taught us that the Earth is not in the central location in the cosmos, the dark matter episode teaches us that the kind of stuff the Earth is made of is a mere 1-10% (by mass) of the material content of the universe. My paper will assess these and similar claims from a historical and philosophical perspective.

How is knowledge like minerals, grain, lumber, or meat? Like these more conventional, material commodities, it is created out of nature for human use. In the past few centuries (if not earlier), it has likewise increasingly become an object that moves out of its geographical region of origin and into wider circulation in an evolving world economy of knowledge, distinct from, yet overlapping and paralleling, the material economy. Inspired by both world-systems theory and science studies, this paper examines how knowledge constructed in the field by geologists, botanists, zoologists, and anthopologists within a specific region--the U.S. Central West, consisting of Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Nebraska, and Kansas--became part of the wider circulation of the global knowledge economy in the second half of the nineteenth century. Just as the Central West saw its mineral wealth become the object of resource extraction by the industrializing metropolitan centers of the East, so too did it become a lucrative periphery for the production of knowledge for wider circulation. Using case studies from this region, this paper traces the rise of a mercantilist knowledge economy, in which knowledge was embodied in material specimens collected by museums, and the subsequent emergence of a rival (yet often complementary) system of disembodied knowledge controlled by the academic departments of universities.

Great thinkers were the object of an almost cultish glorification during the French Enlightenment; yet at the same time, they were often placed in a marginal position in relation to the period's norms of social comportment, sexuality, and mental /physical health. A key factor in the intellectual's equivocal status was the growing influence of a reactionary, Rousseauistic suspicion regarding thinking itself-a view of mental labor as deeply unnatural, denaturing, a dangerous act that strained the body, exhausted the nerves, and led all of cultured society on a one-way path toward degeneration and moral dissolution. Although Rousseau himself openly disdained most doctors, his celebrated diatribes against civilization and the arts and sciences fueled the Enlightenment medical debate over scholarship's health effects. Moreover, medical writers frequently used Rousseau himself to support their theories on melancholy, excessive sensibility, the tortured sexuality of geniuses, and other, generally dire consequences of overzealous mental contention. This paper traces the French medical discourse on thinking, health, and pathology from approximately 1750, when Rousseau published his famous first Discourse, to the early nineteenth century, when physicians still commonly evoked him to support or refute the notion that men of letters were particularly susceptible to disease and constitutional degeneration. Drawing on Rousseau's self-construction as a melancholic as well as medical treatises by figures like S. Tissot, P. Pomme, P. Fabre, and J.-G. Zimmerman, it considers how intellectuals were implicated in the specialized literature on hypochondria, nervous illness, and the vapors which proliferated between the 1750s and 1780s. It then explores how the contemporary medical image of the thinker as a high-strung, over-cultured valetudinary evolved in the polarized climate of the Revolution-a period when Rousseau was widely heralded as an ideological precursor, sometimes to support attacks on men of letters. Finally, it assesses evocations of Rousseau in the self-help manuals written for scholars by post-Revolutionary medical writers like J.J. Virey, E. Brunaud, and J-H. Réveillé-Parise, who generally sought to redeem the thinker's dignity and status-but often in ways that reinforced this figure's long-standing association with biological imbalance, social marginality, and cultural /vital excess.

George and Ira Gershwin composed "I Got Rhythm" for the Broadway show Girl Crazy, which opened on October 14, 1930. "I Got Rhythm" was a big hit during the Thirties, and has since become one of the most famous jazz standards. In this paper, Gershwin's song serves as a backdrop representing the cultural and social context of the inter-war years. On center stage is a particular aspect of the history of birth control -- the redefinition of periodic abstinence as a scientific method of contraception, and its social impact. During the 1910s and 1920s, a wealth of contradictory laboratory and clinical results seemed to indicate that women could ovulate and become pregnant at any time. But between 1929 and 1934, a series of experiments proved that the female reproductive cycle followed a definite biochemical rhythm, ovulation recurring approximately fifteen days before each menstruation. This discovery fell on fertile ground, the "fast and troubled world" evoked in Gershwin's hit, and was applied to a new method of birth control, the rhythm method. Hailed as a natural means of contraception, apparently free from medical and moral counter-indications, the rhythm method enjoyed a significant popularity during the 1930s, especially among Catholics. To many women for whom the radio had become an indispensable companion, "I Got Rhythm" could not fail to remind them of birth control. For a short period of time, they could join Ethel Merman in the refrain "I got rhythm, I got my man, who could ask for anything more?" But unfortunately, the rhythm method has not lived to its promise, and indeed women continue to ask for much more.

Conventional historiography of the eugenics movement has sought to demonstrate origins of the Nazi Holocaust in a cultural border-crossing that moves from Anglo-America to Germany. This paper considers origins of American eugenics in a different direction: how 19th century German Idealism and Naturphilosophie influenced American hereditarian thinking, specifically, the leading American theories (and methods of testing) "intelligence" on the eve of United States entry into World War I. After a review of how the recapitulationist evolutionism of Oken and Haeckel influenced Lewis Terman's Stanford-Revision of the Binet-Simon Scale, this paper shall focus on Terman's fellow eugenist and rival for leadership of American mental testing in 1917. This was Robert Yerkes, who claimed his Point Scale for Testing Mental Ability was more scientific than the Stanford-Binet, as it tested for a kind of intelligence that entailed intellectual abilities, and which was evident throughout the animal kingdom. A demonstration follows of the influence of Josiah Royce on Yerkes's theory of intelligence, and the affinity of Royce for the activist rationalism of Fichte, Schelling, Fechner, and Lotze. The paper concludes by considering three other border-crossings that pertain: the institutional border-crossing between philosophy and the new scientific disciplines of biology and psychology; the political border-crossing Yerkes accomplished as wartime leader of a diverse group of intelligence testers, including not only Terman, but also pragmatic testers who preferred not to theorize intelligence as a real entity; and finally, a metaphysical border-crossing that recurs sporadically throughout the history of science. This is the secular belief in a relationship, both anatomical and psychological, between the human individual as microcosm and the natural universe as macrocosm. As Terman's IQ was grounded in the assumption that the individual organism reflected the animal kingdom as it retraced phylum development, Yerkes's intelligence acted as an evolutionary monad, which was distributed throughout the animal kingdom and mirrored, at least potentially, the entirety of evolved life, in its universal struggle for survival.

For more than a century, individuals throughout Europe published and discussed the properties of a particularly contentious phenomenon, the “unguentum armarium” or weapon salve. Reputed to heal wounds over vast distances when applied to the weapon responsible for causing them, the salve captured the collective imagination of the West and spawned dozens of debates that carried into the last decades of the seventeenth century. This paper will suggest that the weapon salve’s popularity in intellectual circles can be explained, at least in part, by the ongoing discussion of occult activity in nature that characterized much of the early modern period. With the rise of explicitly anti-Scholastic sentiment in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, phenomena whose causes were hidden or insensible assumed new and important roles in the shaping of worldviews; consequently, the weapon salve was employed as an exemplar of occult activity in nature, creating a unique and convenient discourse in which this particular issue could be addressed by both those shaping the new philosophies, and those defending the old.

This paper will explore three principal themes: (a) How nineteenth-century British and American novelists used the concept of heredity: the connotations the term carried, its role as a narrative device, and the reasons some novelists used it frequently and others not at all. In particular, this paper will focus on the tight relationship between hereditarianism and fatalism in the novelist's conception of hereditary transmission. (b) How medico-scientific debates during the course of the century influenced the novelist's understanding of heredity. And (c) the contribution of novelists to the debate over reproductive responsibility: the propriety of individuals with certain hereditary abnormalities - whether physical or behavioural - reproducing and transmitting their 'taints' to future generations. Over all, this paper seeks to elucidate the normative meaning of heredity in the nineteenth century.

How did America's reliance on European scientific goods, and especially those produced in England, shape and challenge the pursuit of the physical sciences and their applications in the period between the end of the Revolution and the War of 1812? To address this question, I will focus on three specific issues: first, the purchase of collections of scientific instruments and books from London by newly-established American colleges; second, the efforts of the London instrument firm W&S Jones to nurture an American market; and third, the the circulation of navigational knowledge and commodities in the English-speaking Atlantic world. In the latter case, I will take particular notice of the role of Nathaniel Bowditch as an American innovator in navigation, and the marketing of his works in both America and England.

A wide range of mid-twentieth-century social scientists were interested in the relationship between individual personality and social formations, patterns, and problems. From culture and personality studies, to Parsonian sociology, to investigations of authoritarianism and prejudice, to critiques of middle-class conformity, researchers, particularly those who drew on some version of psychoanalysis, often highlighted the role of "the family" as a key element in the dynamic between psyche and society. Yet the postwar American family held an ambivalent position in such studies, which drew on longstanding associations between the family and the social body that intensified in the postwar period. In both idealizations of domestic family life and anxious portrayals of the family as weak and in disarray, families (particularly mothers) became the agent for producing democratic citizens or more nefariously, prejudice, racism, damaged black psyches, schizophrenia, homosexuality, autism, and delinquency. My paper will argue that the power of the family in such conceptualizations drew in part on its capacity to become incorporated into divergent perspectives based on the fluidity of its simultaneously technical and colloquial meanings. Building on recent historical work on social scientists' psychologically-informed explanations for prejudice and its damaging consequences, I will examine how the diverse, postwar invocations of "the family" by social scientists such as Jules Henry, Margaret Mead, and E. Franklin Frazier contributed to the mutual construction of race and gender in such scholarship.

One of the most important elements holding a scientific community together is the identity shared by its members. During the 1960s, the nascent community of plasma physics represented itself as being committed to a general study of plasmas, one that connected many research specialties involving ionized gases. At the same time, the discipline's primary patronage was directed to a particular specialty: research on controlled thermonuclear fusion. As a result, the decade was marked by contention regarding the identity of the discipline. Plasma physics was viewed by some scientists as a general study of "the fourth state of matter" and by others as a special study of the high-temperature plasmas of fusion research. Despite such disagreement, the community developed a loose sense of unity, which bears a resemblance to what Ian Hacking calls "interconnectedness." This notion of unity was reflected in the research program of plasma physics, which stressed (in contrast to the decades that followed) basic plasma effects and small-scale experiments. This paper demonstrates that there are strong ties between the identity of a scientific community, its institutional circumstances, and its cognitive development. It also suggests that historians need to consider broad conceptions of unity in understanding the self-definition and formation of scientific communities.

Natural philosophy was one amongst many forms of skilled expertise serving the State in the eighteenth century. This paper explores the practical knowledge of another group of artisanal experts, the pyrotechnicians, and their interactions with the arts, sciences and the State during the Enlightenment. I begin with pyrotechnicians' role in creating the courtly fireworks underwriting monarchy across Europe, and the stakes, consequences and rewards of their labours. Following the careers of itinerant pyrotechnicians in France, Italy, the Germanies and Russia, I examine how competition between pyrotechnicians of international stature led, in the 1750s and 60s, to the first incursions of the physical sciences on the art of pyrotechny, involving figures such as Lomonosov in Russia, Lavoisier in France, and Marggraf in Germany. The consequences of artisanal and scientific collaboration for the sciences are considered, and I conclude by relating these to recent debates about the sciences' role in revealing and managing artisanal techniques and secrets during the Enlightenment.

A variety of works has examined the close links between physiognomy and the representation of character in the literature, fine arts, and anthropology of the Victorian period. Recent studies of behaviour and expression in 19th-century culture have contrasted evolutionary accounts of the emotions, such as Darwin's, with the physiognomic tradition, in which the human face and its manifold expressions were widely regarded as works of divine craftsmanship. Yet what is perhaps more striking about accounts such as Darwin's is not that naturalistic explanations replaced those of natural theology; but that the objects of explanation, the emotions themselves, were profoundly transformed. This paper will explore the relationship between the physiology of the emotions and the display of character in Victorian Britain. Charles Bell and other writers had begun to link certain physiological functions, such as respiration, with the expression of feelings such as fear, regarding the heart and other internal organs as instruments by which the emotions were made visible. But a purely functional account of the emotions, which emerged through the development of reflex physiology during the second half of the century, would dramatically alter the nature of feelings and the means of observing them. At the same time, instinctual or acquired sympathy, which underpinned the accurate reading of expressions, became a problem to be surmounted by new technologies able to make visible the body's internal movements accurately. Graphic recording instruments, measuring a variety of physiological functions and used with increasing frequency in clinical diagnostics, became of fundamental importance for tracing the movement of feelings during the period prior to the development of cinematography, and remained, in the form of devices such as the polygraph, a crucial (if controversial) means of measuring affective states, beneath the potentially deceptive surface of the body.

In the late decades of the Ancien Régime, no pathology was more discussed in France than the illness known as "the vapors." Between the 1750s and the 1780s, a score of medical treatises focused exclusively on this condition or devoted significant attention to it. Similarly, the vapors were a constant subject of commentary in the medical and general press and in the correspondence and life-writing of patients. Regarded at mid-century as an interchangeably male and female disease with multiple, elusive causes, the vapors were, by the 1780s, increasingly linked to aristocratic idleness and sensual excess, especially among women. This paper explores the disappearance of the vapors diagnosis and the recasting of vaporous ills as "hysteria" amid the upheavals of the French Revolution. It draws on medical treatises - of such figures as Philippe Pinel, J.M.J. Vigarous, and J.B. Louyer-Villermay - to explore the ways in which physicians reconstructed hysteria as an exclusively women's disease and, in analyzing its causes, shifted emphasis away from aristocratic vice to pathological influences now assumed to be inherent in the physical and moral constitution of women. The paper will also draw on the medical and general press as well as the pamphlet literature of the Revolution to show that this diagnostic transformation was accomplished amid the emergence of a broader, post-Thermidor discourse of hysteria as manifest in the actions of revolutionary mobs dominated by bloodthirsty women. Finally, the paper will assess the state of the hysteria diagnosis at the beginning of the Restoration, when it was positioned at the center of medical controversies over the classification and management of psychic maladies, which in turn were now closely tied to the gender and class struggles of the revolutionary era.

As knowledge of the intricacies of the human body and its disorders increased among anatomists and pathologists, so too did the need to find new ways to present that information to medical students and interested members of the general public. Accompanying these discoveries were new materials and techniques for preserving the body and its parts, often developed by the anatomists themselves. Implicit in many of these teaching materials are cultural attitudes toward the human body and its spiritual dimensions. This presentation will look at the anatomical and pathological specimens and models preserved in medical museums, from Ruysch's 17th century tableaux reflecting on allegorical themes of death to Gunter von Hagen's modern plastinated bodies preserving the illusion of life, and discuss their significance to both the medical scientist and the curious layman.

In this paper I want to discuss the relation between Japanese imperialism and colonial science in China. In East Asia Japan only succeeded to accept modern science from Europe in late 19 Century . In 1904, when Japan won a war with Russia, Japan bought a railway from Russia. Japanese imperialism began to colonize North East China. So, South Manchurian Railway Company was established by Japan in 1906.It was not mere Railway Company .It had a peculiarity like English East India Company. This Company had made various enterprise in Manchuria. For example ,school, hospital, mine, iron foundry and research institution about science and technology. Especially I pay attention to research institution about science and technology. This institution was established on Dalian in 1907 by Shinpei Goto(1857-1929)who was the first president of South Manchurian Railway Company .In the beginning, He studied medicine in Japan and Germany and he went to Taiwan in1898 as the president of Taiwan government and to Manchuria in 1906 as the first president of South Manchurian Railway Company. So he was both doctor and politician. He thought that Japan could govern her colony by the power of scientific civilization of Japan. Many Japanese scientist and technicians went to Manchuria as research worker of this Institution .In 1945 ,it had about 800 staff member .It surveyed the underground resources and developed the natural resources in Manchuria. I discuss that how did it play role in those days by considering Activities of it.

This paper studies the roles transfer of knowledge, resource, and people played in forming a new research area. Physicists and wireless engineers between 1900 and 1920 were preoccupied with the mechanism responsible for long-distance radio-wave propagation. By the early 1920s, the model of refraction via the upper atmosphere developed by William Eccles and Joseph Larmor was widely accepted. But the atmospheric refraction model did not merely provide an explanation for the possibility of long-distance wave propagation. It also implied that radio waves could be used as a tool to probe the physical structure of the ionosphere. In this paper, I investigate the effort a number of physicists and radio engineers made in the 1920s to extend the studies of radio-wave propagation to a science of the ionosphere. I focus on two representative figures and their associated organizations: Edward V. Appleton working for the projects of the British Radio Research Board, and A. Hoyt Taylor in the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory. In order to create a new research area, they had to grasp expertise, to retrieve resource, and to get coworkers from a variety of established fields. Appleton transformed the applications of the Maxwellian theories, the experimental skills, and the vacuum-tube technology he learned from the Cavendish Laboratory of Cambridge University from fashionable microphysics to radio science. He enlarged the research community of radio science by attracting young physicists educated in Britain, such as Balthasar van der Pol and M. A. F. Barfield, to cooperate with him. Taylor's career cut across the arenas of academia, industry, military, and the community of wireless amateurs. He convinced the U.S. Navy to invest on the research of radio-wave propagation in the ionosphere for its practical importance. He helped to organize large-scale experiments as a collaboration of the Naval Research Laboratory, the Bureau of Standards, and many amateur stations affiliated with the American Radio Relay League. He mastered in the Lorentz-Larmor theory of refraction, which was rare among the American radio engineers of his time. Moreover, I argue that the fields from which Appleton and Taylor retrieve knowledge, resource, and people shaped the kinds of questions they aimed to answer in the new research area. Being a physicist under the Cambridge tradition, Appleton pursued direct experimental evidence for the existence of the ionospheric layers (as in his polarization experiments on measuring sky waves), and the novel physical facts related to the fundamental features of the ionosphere (as in his analysis of splitting wave-propagation modes in the ionosphere when the magnetic field is present). Regarding himself as a physicist, a naval officer, an inventor, and a radio engineer, the pragmatically minded Taylor was concerned more with a synthesis of observational data of different origins (such as his tables of transmission range), and the relevance of the ionosphere to various radio-wave propagation phenomena of practical interest (such as his account for the existence of skip zones using a geometric-optics-based ionospheric refraction theory). If Appleton and Taylor can be considered as 'actors' in Bruno Latour's sense or 'translators' in Hugh Aitken's sense, then the story in this paper indicates that the actions and translations connecting different fields together to create a new research area could follow distinct yet complementary paths.

This paper argues systematically for a thesis (already suggested by Thorndike, Lindgren and Lattin Pratt) that Gerbert of Aurillac was responsible for the very first Latin versions of Arabic texts to circulate in the West - technical treatises on the astrolabe, like "De utilitatibus astrolabii". I indicate that Gerbert also brought the judicial astrology of "Alchandreus philosophus"; and the astronomical tables of the Praeceptum canonis Ptolomei. I extend the arguments of Thorndike et al, by noting primarily that Gerbert was the only scholar of the time familiar with "climata", yet these are emphasized in De utilitatibus. Indeed, this text contains some detail missing from the Arabic material, so this detail must have been added by someone in the Latin world: someone familiar with "climata". Besides, the added detail comes (certainly) from the Preceptum Canonis Ptolomei, yet the only people with identifiable access to the Preceptum Canonis at this time were in the monastery at Bobbio where Gerbert was abbot. Indeed Gerbert's own correspondence announced the discovery of Boethius' "De Astrologia", a Latin collection of Ptolemaic astronomical writings. There are good reasons to believe that the Preceptum Canonis was included in the "De Astrologia". Further evidence comes from a hint of Van der Vyvre's, who drew attention to an attempt of Gerbert's to get some 'translated' material related to astrology from northern Spain. I argue that the text he acquired was by 'Alchandreus philosophus', and the fact that this text appears together with the "De utilitatibus astrolabii" so often (in later MSS) is well explained if Gerbert was the source of the latter as well.

In the wake of the 1949 Communist victory over the Nationalists in the Chinese civil war, hundreds of thousands of Chinese fled the mainland for Hong Kong. In this paper I examine the formation and activities of Aid Refugee Chinese Intellectuals, Inc. (ARCI), an American relief organization established in 1952 to succor the intellectuals among the refugees. When the US Congress passed the Refugee Relief Act of 1953, ARCI and its beneficiaries in Hong Kong were well-positioned to take advantage of the visas made available for displaced Chinese. Over the course of its active operations, from 1952-1961, ARCI was responsible for the immigration of some 2400 individuals. Significantly, many among the beneficiaries of ARCI's US resettlement program were trained in the sciences, in engineering, or in medicine. I explore why the members of ARCI did what they did and how their motivations shaped the character of Chinese immigration during the 1950s. I argue that ARCI served as the agent for a diverse set of US Cold War imperatives. By coming to the aid of the refugee intellectuals, ARCI was attempting to preserve what it called the "intellectual leadership of free China" against Communist subversion. By choosing the best and the brightest for immigration to the US, ARCI saw itself as strengthening America's position in the Cold War of science and technology. And finally, by doing these things, ARCI hoped to broadcast the message, to the "undecided" peoples of the developing world, that Americans would help all who stood for freedom and democracy, regardless of race, regardless of place.