David Philip Miller
University of New South Wales
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The British Journal for the History of Science | 1983
David Philip Miller
The career of Humphry Davy (1778–1829) is one of the fairy tales of early nineteenth-century British science. His rise from obscure Cornish origins to world-wide eminence as a chemical discoverer, to popular celebrity amongst Londons scientific audiences, to a knighthood from the Prince Regent, and finally to the Presidency of the Royal Society, provide apposite material for Smilesian accounts of British society as open to talents. But the use of Davys career to illustrate the thesis that ‘genius will out’ is not without its problems. As Davy began to reap the benefits of his early chemical discoveries, and to acquire status and wealth, his dedication to research waned. The ‘new’ Davy who emerged in the years after Waterloo, though admired by many sections of the metropolitan scientific community, was also widely criticized. Ambivalence became marked with Davys election to, and conduct in, the Presidency of the Royal Society.
The British Journal for the History of Science | 1999
David Philip Miller
From its very beginning the Royal Society was regarded by many, if not most, of its founders as centrally concerned with practical improvement. How could it be otherwise? The study of nature was not only a pious act in and of itself – a reading of the book of nature – but it was also the way in which Gods Providence would provide discoveries for the relief of mans estate. The early ideologues of the Society, such as Robert Boyle and Thomas Sprat, continually returned to the usefulness of natural philosophy in that sense. They were no doubt stimulated in this not only by the narrow purpose of gaining support for their novel institution but also by quite genuine beliefs about the role that natural philosophy could play in creating a stable political and economic order through which prosperity might increase and the years of civil war be left behind. However, by the late seventeenth century the Society, especially after the demise of the history of trades programme, became much more a deliberative forum than a projective organization.
Notes and Records | 1998
David Philip Miller
This paper examines the composition and activities of an important grouping in the Royal Society in the middle decades of the 18th Century, which I call the ‘Hardwicke circle’. Members of the circle occupied high office at the Royal Society and effectively controlled its affairs for many years. The intellectual interests and political sentiments of the members of the circle are outlined, in part by looking at critics of their regime. It is argued that the waning of the power of the circle and the advent of the Banksian regime heralded a major shift in the cultural politics of the institution.
The British Journal for the History of Science | 2008
David Philip Miller
The nineteenth-century engineering hero Isambard Kingdom Brunel was a prominent patent abolitionist in debates about the patent system in Britain. His opposition is usually regarded as principled, that is, based in liberal laissez-faire opposition to monopolies and to the constraints of bureaucracy. Against this it is argued that Brunels views on patents evolved. As late as 1840, despite lessons about patents from the bad experiences of his father, Brunel could still consider taking out a patent himself, something that a decade later he denied he had ever contemplated. Brunels engineering persona, his experiences and conduct of engineering practice were the base from which he eventually formulated principled opposition to the patent system. The paper examines his responses to importunate inventors who pestered him with inventions in the 1840s and elucidates how he dealt with the patented inventions of others that he wanted to use in his projects. It is suggested that for Brunel patent abolitionism was in effect a way of doing business before it became a political cause. The case suggests the value of approaching the history of patents and, by implication, of intellectual property more generally, through detailed examination of practices.
Archive | 1986
David Philip Miller
Method discourse occurs on a variety of levels. The most obvious, and most intensively studied, are statements presented as definitive discourses on method by practising scientists or philosophers. Insofar as the study of the history of scientific method has been seen as primarily a philosophical enterprise, past discourses on method by the great philosophers have been studied with a view to first establishing the ‘true’ meaning attached to them by their advocates, and second, with a view to showing in what ways that meaning had influence or significance in the evolution of a true or satisfactory scientific method. More recently such approaches have been criticized as Whiggish and positivistic. This criticism points out that to confine oneself to the great philosophers is to miss a considerable body of significant work on scientific method by practising scientists. In addition, the context of such past investigations has been misunderstood — prior to the twentieth century the philosophy of scientific method was closely connected with the actual practice of science. In particular, as Laudan has emphasized, statements about method cannot be understood if they are separated from the scientific context in which they were made. And very often discourses on method were stimulated and shaped by quite particularistic concerns with specific scientific theories.1
Annals of Science | 2015
David Philip Miller; Rob Iliffe; Trevor H. Levere
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History of Science | 2008
David Philip Miller
“... hitherto the law has only recognised the two extremes of intellectual work: the base and the summit. The inventor of a new kind of india-rubber heel, than which one can imagine nothing more earth-to-earthly, may acquire a fortune by patenting his invention. At the opposite extreme is the musical composer who could give to the world a Ninth Symphony.... For him, universal applause is not the only reward; the law regarding author’s copyright enables him to secure the pecuniary profits which are his due. But to the man of science who observes a truth from which humanity will in the future draw immense and durable advantages, the law accords nothing. This omission will undoubtedly be a source of astonishment to future generations....” Senator Francesco Ruffini (1923)
Annals of Science | 2008
David Philip Miller
Summary James Watt (1736–1819) is best known as an engineer who dramatically improved the efficiency of the steam engine. What we take to be his chemical interests are conventionally seen as peripheral to his main line of work. He is usually treated as a chemist in three main contexts: his ‘practical’ chemical work relating to chlorine bleaching, varnishes, pottery, and so on; his work with Thomas Beddoes on the medicinal uses of various ‘airs’; his, much disputed, claim as a chemical discoverer in the case of the composition of water. In this paper, I argue that Watt himself, and his contemporaries, saw the centrepiece of his steam engine work—the separate condenser—as a chemical invention. I also suggest more broadly that Watt understood the steam engine as a chemical device. For Watt and his Scottish friends, the study of steam and heat was a chemical enquiry. The subsequent changes in the place of heat in chemical enquiry in the early nineteenth century led to a reclassification of Watts chemical investigations as ‘physics’. This, in turn, produced the sharp separation of his chemical and engineering activities characteristic of modern historiography. Watts steam engine, which is usually placed in the lineage of machines understood as heat engines, and explained by the laws of thermodynamics, is better seen in context as a chemical device. Watts ‘indicator diagram’ is reassessed in the light of this.
Ambix | 2008
David Philip Miller; Trevor H. Levere
Abstract The collaboration of Thomas Beddoes and James Watt in the development of pneumatic medicine — the treatment of disease by the breathing of airs — is well known but little understood. Its protagonists presented the venture as an empirical one, in which the efficacy of different airs was tested independently of theoretical considerations. Historians have generally accepted that claim at face value. We contend, on the contrary, that the divergent theoretical chemical commitments of Watt and Beddoes significantly shaped their different approaches to, and their interpretations and expectations of, the pneumatic project. In particular, Beddoess broad adherence to Lavoisian chemistry gave him an oxygen-centred approach to pneumatic medicine, while Watts ongoing belief in phlogistic chemistry inclined him to expect great things of “hydrocarbonate.” In addition, we show that a close examination of Watts experiments and writings in his collaboration with Beddoes reveals a great deal about Watts chemistry of airs.
Annals of Science | 2012
David Philip Miller
of natural history from 1779 to 1803’ (p. 120). In doing so, the account exposes the enduring scholarly shortcomings of the traditional distinction between the ‘Neptunist Wernerians’ and the ‘Vulcanist Huttonians’. Instead, Eddy argues, much more study needs to be directed towards understanding how both Wernerians and Huttonians employed chemistry in their mineralogical interpretations of various geological strata. In particular, Eddy points to the significance of principle-based chemistry. Despite their prominence throughout most of the eighteenth century, the principalist approach and the widespread employment of elements*such as earth, water, fire and salt in chemical practice*are commonly obscured by imbalanced historiography and the focus on the rise of pneumatic chemistry (of airs), especially during the latter half of the century. This is particularly true when applied to interpretations of eighteenth-century mineralogy. Examining Walker’s methods of classification, as arising from his lectures on mineralogy, the chapter offers a corrective. The importance of principalist chemistry in the mineralogical context is demonstrated through a detailed and illuminating reconstruction of Walker’s mature system of mineralogy, which was considered as authoritative by many of his Edinburgh peers, including Joseph Black. The fifth and final chapter turns to Walker’s geology. Examining ‘the extent to which the logic of his chemical and mineralogical practices shaped how he understood the earth’s larger structure and composition’, Eddy argues that Walker’s geological views grew out of his mineralogy and chemistry, and not the other way round (p. 155). With his scientific method and reasoning rooted in chemical practice and natural history, and regulated by his empirical approach, Walker is shown to have been suspicious about geological cosmologies based on unverifiable data (such as those expounded, for instance, by Buffon or John Whitehurst). Seven appendices present in a condensed and accessible manner a wealth of information and helpful comparative details, among which we find a chronological arrangement of Walker’s correspondence, ‘Walker’s 1757 spa experiments’ and ‘notable mid-eighteenth century mineralogical systems.’ In summary, The Language of Mineralogy is a significant contribution to the history of the earth sciences. It should be of primary interest to historians of eighteenth-century science: in particular, geology, mineralogy, chemistry and medicine. This welcome addition to eighteenth-century scholarship will certainly prove useful to historians of the Enlightenment and of early modern natural history and material culture.