Like it or not, a big picture of the history of science is something which we cannot avoid. Big pictures are, of course, thoroughly out of fashion at the moment; those committed to specialist research find them simplistic and insufficiently complex and nuanced, while postmodernists regard them as simply impossible. But however specialist we may be in our research, however scornful of the immaturity of grand narratives, it is not so easy to escape from dependence – acknowledged or not – (...) on a big picture. When we define our research as part of the history of science, we implicitly invoke a big picture of that history to give identity and meaning to our specialism. When we teach the history of science, even if we do not present a big picture explicitly, our students already have a big picture of that history which they bring to our classes and into which they fit whatever we say, no matter how many complications and refinements and contradictions we put before them – unless we offer them an alternative big picture. (shrink)

In 1847, the British polymath William Whewell pointed out that the sciences for which he, in 1837, had coined the term “palætiological” have much in common and that they may reflect light upon each other by being treated together. This recommendation is here put into practice in a specific way, to wit, not by comparing the palaetiological sciences that Whewell distinguished himself but by comparing the general historical development of the scientific study of the four broad palætiological domains that he (...) enumerated in 1847: the solar system, the Earth, its vegetable and animal creation, and man. For wide and various as their subjects are, it will be found that [the palætiological sciences] have all certain principles, maxims, and rules of procedure in common; and thus may reflect light upon each other by being treated together. William Whewell ( 1847, 1, p. 640). (shrink)

The study of human diversity in the first half of the 19th century has traditionally been categorized as a type of armchair-based natural history. If we are to take seriously this characterization of the discipline it requires further unpacking. Armchair anthropology was not a passive pursuit, with minimal analytical reflection that simply synthesized the materials of other writers. Nor was it detached from the activities of informants who were collecting and recording data in the field. Practitioners in the 19th century (...) were highly attuned to the problems associated with their research techniques and continually sought to transform their methodologies. The history of British anthropological research is one of gradual change and the adoption of new observational techniques into its methodologies. This article looks at the history of 19th-century British anthropology and examines in detail the observational practices of its researchers. In doing so it aims to answer the question: What is armchair anthropology? (shrink)

Although the history of the word ‘ geology ’ has often been referred to by those interested in the development of the science, that history has never been fully traced. An endeavor is made to do so here, taking the story at least as far as 1813, by which time the basic word had unquestionably been established in its modern form and meaning. Various claims as to who first gave the science its present name are also briefly examined.

The British Museum, based in Montague House, Bloomsbury, opened its doors on 15 January 1759, as the world's first state-owned public museum. The Museum's collection mostly originated from Sir Hans Sloane, whose vast holdings were purchased by Parliament shortly after his death. The largest component of this collection was objects of natural history, including a herbarium made up of 265 bound volumes, many of which were classified according to the late seventeenth-century system of John Ray. The 1750s saw the emergence (...) of Linnaean binomial nomenclature, following the publication of Carl Linnaeus'Species Plantarum andSystema Naturae. In order to adopt this new system for their collections, the Trustees of the British Museum chose to employ the Swedish naturalist and former student of Linnaeus, Daniel Solander to reclassify the collection. Solander was ordered to devise a new system for classifying and cataloguing Sloane's natural history collection, which would allow both Linnaeans and those who followed earlier systems to access it. Solander's work was essential for allowing the British Museum to realize its aim of becoming a public centre of learning, adapting the collection to reflect the diversity of classificatory practices which were existent by the 1760s. This task engaged Solander until 1768, when he received an offer from Joseph Banks to accompany him on HMSEndeavourto the Pacific. (shrink)

The focus of this paper is a fascinating but hitherto unstudied 1742 manuscript treatise by Johannes Daniel Schlichting (1705–1765) titled “Sapientiæ Problema” that contains something extremely rare in the mid-eighteenth century: a full-blown speculative cosmogony. As this article reveals, Schlichting developed a distinctive vital liquid matter in an effort to account for the generation of all natural bodies and combat the stamina-based theories that were dominant in his day. He hoped that his treatise would be published in the Philosophical Transactions (...) of the Royal Society, but an accompanying abridgment by the FRS Henry Baker (1698–1774) strongly implies that Schlichting’s speculative bent and desire to divulge causal explanations were unacceptable to the Englishman and generally ill-suited to the intellectual climate of mid-century England. (shrink)