Richard Dunn and Rebekah Higgitt
Richard Dunn and Rebekah Higgitt
In the current pandemic, the Scientific Tourist is restricted to armchair travel, but can at least anticipate future trips and reflect on previous travels. This book is excellent as preparation for visiting Greenwich, and reading about the voyages of those truly great scientific tourists who explored and mapped our world, at least partly in the name of science, is both inspiring and informative.
For anyone who prefers actual scholarship to populist dramatic narrative, then this is the book that Dava Sobel’s ‘Longitude’ should have been. Written by experts at the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich for a major 2014 exhibition commemorating the tercentenary of the establishment of the Longitude Prize, it combines both historical and scientific perspectives with the detailed, objective accuracy any serious student (and Scientific Tourist) would expect. It is therefore much wider in scope than Sobel’s book.
The importance of understanding the story and events surrounding the search for a means of discovering the longitude at sea cannot be exaggerated. It goes far beyond the particular problem. This was a salient moment in the history of science, perhaps as significant as any other since. It set the stage for scientific progress to this day. And not just science; this was a problem of enormous historical importance upon which the future course of world history depended. It deserves the most careful and profound examination for what it can tell us about scientific progress and its civilizational context.
For the Scientific Tourist, here is a story that encompasses the whole world, as the Age of Discovery merges with the Age of Enlightenment. It sets the stage for the exploration of both the geographical globe and the world of science, and features some of the immortal pioneers of both worlds. It cannot fail to inspire one to explore further into both the physical and intellectual realms. For me personally, the connections with Greenwich, near where I grew up, make it seem all the more real and intimate while revealing ever greater depths of understanding and ever wider vistas of adventure.
I won’t repeat here the background and explanations I have already given in my review of Longitude, instead I concentrate on a comparison of the two books.
Finding Longitude focuses on the period from immediately prior to the first Longitude Act of 1714 to the widespread adoption of astronomical and mechanical techniques; roughly from 1680 to around 1830. It follows the arguments and experiments of the major players, concentrating justifiably on the British scene as the nation rose to maritime ascendancy, but not neglecting the rest of the world. It gives a well-balanced summation of the scientific, technical and social issues, with enough historical evidence to give a fair account of the main players’ roles, actions and attitudes. Harrison and his tale are not neglected, but are seen in perspective as less central to the story. The contribution of mechanical timepieces (and Harrison’s contributions in particular) are shown to be less significant to solving the problem of longitude than advances in astronomical theory and observation (and organising and publishing results), and advances in instrument manufacture and use.
Finding Longitude clearly shows how the various contributions of the time (government funding and setting of goals, creation of institutions dedicated to science and technology, the role of education and training in adoption of novel technologies – especially by the military, the contributions of both blue sky and goal-driven research, the publishing, collaboration and sharing of information) all played a part, not only then but how they became a template for the achievement of aims beyond the scope of even the brightest and most dedicated individuals.
Let no-one imagine I am detracting from Harrison’s remarkable achievements, but notwithstanding the simplistic Hollywood-ish mythology of Sobel’s version, real-world science and technology do not proceed from a solitary genius making discoveries out of the blue[Endnote]. The reality is never so simplistic nor so random. In fact, many factors and actors have to come together to realise an idea or discovery when its time has come. This book explores that complex interplay of forces and events, puts them into historical context, and proves both far more interesting and enlightening, and rather more truthful, than Sobel’s. In particular, her vilification of Maskelyne, Newton and several others seems rather unjustified.
Harrison’s personal story is no less intriguing than Einstein’s in that it was the story of an outsider triumphing over the professionals, and upsetting the counsels of the great and the good. Again, though, Sobel’s narrative of lone individual ignored and mistreated by the great does not stand up under historical scrutiny. Nor does her implication that Harrison solved the problem all by himself and that his was the contribution that pervaded.
Without glossing over the scientific and historical context too much, Harrison was not the cruelly mistreated underdog that Sobel would have you believe, nor were the great and the good of the time quite the villains determined to do him down out of dishonourable motives. Harrison may have felt ill-used, as his chronometers did work, eventually, but they were both impracticably expensive and delicate, not to mention irreproducible, and so did not satisfy the requirements of the Act for a useful solution to the longitude problem. Harrison was, despite all his ill-feeling, very well rewarded and compensated for his lifetime’s work.
Let’s not be too harsh to Dava Sobel. After all, her rather imaginative book probably did bring the whole subject of the longitude to the attention of the less scientifically educated public, and without it, the exhibition about which Finding Longitude was written would probably never have taken place – and almost certainly would not have received the financial support of a bank. And not everybody finds the details of science and the facts about its context and progress quite so fascinating as scholars do. So for these crumbs we must be suitably grateful.
In addition, it cannot be denied that Sobel’s prose is very slightly easier to read. Not that there is anything to criticise about Finding Longitude, simply that the authors of Finding Longitude are academics, not popularisers, and their style is somewhat wordier and less melodic. Their prose does not flow as ‘trippingly on the tongue‘ as Sobel’s, but is both more careful and more densely packed with information. But this is a small price to pay for accuracy and substance, and a sentence in Finding Longitude conveys more learning than a paragraph of Sobel’s.
This book also benefits from access to the enormous and outstanding collections of the National Maritime Museum (and several other learned British institutions) for a wealth of fascinating illustrations. Almost every page has some artefact, portrait, manuscript or map from the museum’s vast and eclectic collection, adding to one’s appreciation of the contemporary context. Also, there are lots of quotes from the notables (and the more obscure) of the time, which are revealing and help add atmosphere. The reader will find their appreciation of Greenwich much enhanced by what is presented here. Their understanding of the history of science, especially as it relates to history in general, will find much useful material, not to mention context, in this story.
NB. On a personal note, I have left my review of Sobel’s Longitude as I originally wrote it, i.e. not updating it to reflect my revised opinion, only adding some notes to steer the reader in what I think is the right direction. At that time I was, as doubtless many others have been, rather carried away by the drama and had no reason to doubt Sobel’s version of the story. I should have been a little more sceptical and not have unquestioningly accepted a single source. There’s a lesson there, from which I hope to profit. I could have re-written my review with the benefit of hindsight, but I think that would be contrary to the true spirit of science. There is no shame in admitting that one was wrong, as long as one is prepared to adapt to new information and learn from the experience.
Details
HarperCollins 2014
Richard Dunn and Rebekah Higgitt
ISBN: 9780007525867
Also published as Ships, Clocks, and Stars : The Quest for Longitude ISBN 0062357174, 9780062357175
Endnote Einstein was, without doubt, an exceptional theoretician, but anyone with any knowledge and understanding of the mathematics and physics of his time cannot doubt that the Theory of Relativity would have been discovered by someone else, sooner rather than later, if Albert had not had the spare time on his hands from his boring job at the Patents Office, and Harrison’s chronometers would have been developed by someone else within a few years had he not been so determined to make his fortune. Both Einstein and Harrison shared unprepossessing beginnings which no-one would have predicted would lead them to great success, but these biographical details, intriguing though they are, are ultimately just accidents compared to the great tide of progress.
There is a great danger here of generalising the exceptional and promoting a sad fallacy all too often promulgated by the cranks and charlatans and their dupes, i.e. the notion that any nonsense is equally worthy of consideration because the experts have been proven wrong before by a rank outsider. Alas, for every Harrison and Einstein whose labours bore exceptional fruit, there are a multitude whose fields remained barren and who died in disappointment and justified obscurity. For every 100 to 1 winner upsetting the bookies, there are mostly odds-on favourites paying for the turf accountant’s Bentley. As Shakespeare has it,
‘There is a tide in the affairs of men.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.’
Brutus: Julius Caesar
Whereas most contrarians are more like King Cnut, futilely commanding the tide to retreat.