Annals of Science最新文献

In this essay, I will compare the character, scientific style, and writing style of the American physicist Josiah Willard Gibbs and the French physicist Pierre Maurice Duhem. I begin with biographical notes to portray some significant moments of their lives. I will contrast their characters and scientific styles as manifested in their social and scientific activity influenced by the cultural traditions of their countries and the social and scientific milieu of their time. Also, in these sections, I will discuss features of their familial relationships that affected their youth, their psychology, and the shaping of their characters. I will compare their writing styles emphasizing the differences observed between Gibbs's dense and austere style, unlike Duhem's detailed and informative way of writing his essays. I will further examine the way by which each physicist used Mach's doctrine of the economy of thought in shaping their writing style. A final contrast is reserved for their pedagogical styles. In this case, I will let their students and colleagues speak for them, while I comment on why they did not leave behind a school of thought.

This article investigates Haast's claim that in March 1862 he independently reached the same controversial conclusion as Ramsay, that lake basins in previously glaciated regions were formed by ancient glaciers. Both men's views fuelled a passionate debate in British scientific societies. However, science historians largely ignore Haast's contribution or imply he knew about Ramsay's 'theory' before coming to a conclusion about Southern Alps lakes.To assess whether Haast independently reached that conclusion in March 1862, field records, correspondence, reports, newspaper articles, and scientific publications are examined. Of significance are communications with geologists Hochstetter, Hector, and Ramsay, botanist Hooker, and physicist Tyndall. Consideration of what Haast observed in March 1862 is also critical.However, Haast's 1862 conclusion differs from Ramsay's. While Ramsay was convinced ancient glaciers scooped out rock basins, resulting in deep lakes, Haast believed ancient retreating glaciers left moraines that dammed valleys, resulting in shallow lakes. Regardless of their differences, after Haast read Ramsay's paper in 1864, he applied Ramsay's 'theory' to New Zealand's alpine lakes and proposed an excavation process.The essence of both Ramsay's and Haast's conclusions has been confirmed by research in formerly glaciated regions worldwide. However, Haast's contribution to glaciology is overlooked or underemphasized, and warrants being more widely acknowledged.

We are all used to drawing straight lines to represent time, and above them, we plot historical events or physical or economic data. What to us is a self-evident convention, is however of an astonishingly recent date: it emerged only in the second half of the eighteenth century. To us, this late date seems paradoxical and cries out for an explanation. How else did earlier periods measure change, if not as a function of time? it will be argued that since Antiquity, time was taken to measure change, and change to occur in space. 'Our' idea of representing time as an independent dimension would have seemed aberrant. But then, a second issue arises. Did not medieval natural philosophers employ timelines, Oresme's diagram of the mean speed theorem being the most famous case? However, as will be shown, our interpretation of his diagram is probably wrong. This insight, in turn, takes care of a third paradox, namely Galileo's initial inability to represent the law of free fall correctly. This article will document that the timeline first emerged in the late sixteenth century in works on chronology, made its first appearance in physics in Galileo's diagrams, and had its general breakthrough in the eighteenth century.

The history of science is increasingly directing its attention to the diachronic examination of women's involvement within spaces dedicated to scientific inquiry. While this field of study boasts rich and meticulous historiography, delving into the sixteenth century leaves the impression of encountering either a noticeable absence of women in the realm of natural history or an underexplored period in this regard. Undoubtedly, within the Italian context of the time, the cultural milieu shaped by the Counter-Reformation further heightened the social challenges faced by women.Notwithstanding these challenges, a noteworthy female figure emerges in the latter half of the sixteenth century - Francesca Fontana, the second wife of the natural history scholar Ulisse Aldrovandi (1522-1605). From an overall view of the sources, Fontana seems to assume a pivotal role in the realization of collections and works attributed to the eminent naturalist. This study aims to delineate the role played by Fontana within Aldrovandi's 'officina naturale.' By examining the available documents in a chronological order, my aim is to provide insights into the evolution of her education and her practical and technical skills, harnessed in the pursuit of her husband's enterprises and scholarly contributions.

On November 14th, 1770, the young chemist Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier (1743-1794) read his 'Sur la nature de l'eau' to the Académie des Sciences. Eventually published in the Académie's journal in 1773, the two-part memoire challenged a widely held view of earlier experimenters: the transmutability of matter. Specifically, experimenters such as Jean-Baptiste Van Helmont (1580-1644), Robert Boyle (1627-1691), and Ole Borsch (1626-1690) had noted that when distilled water was heated in a glass vessel, a small amount of earthy residue remained, seemingly demonstrating the transmutation of water into earth. Antoine-Laurent designed an experiment to determine whether it was really to the 'destruction of a portion of the water that this residual earth owed its origin, or if it was to that of the glass.' In partial agreement with Jean-Baptiste Le Roy (1720-1800), a fellow academician, Antoine-Laurent aimed to disprove the antiquated belief - the transmutation of one element into another - by using a glass vessel from the alchemist's cabinet: the pelican.