Portrait of Nicolaus Copernicus on display at the Town Hall in Torun, Poland. The artist is unknown but the portrait might possibly be the work of Flemish artist Marcus Gheeraerts. More information on this can be found ... morein John Freely’s book Celestial revolutionary: Copernicus, the man and his universe (pp.246-247) (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

When we think about evolution it’s important to remember that it doesn’t just concern biological species; evolution is also about how the entire Universe came to be the way it is. One of the key figures in this broadest view of evolution is Nicolaus Copernicus (1473-1543), a Polish astronomer who is considered to be the father of modern astronomy. As a student, however, he also studied mathematics, medicine and canon law.

The most crucial of Copernicus’ conclusions is the central premise in his book De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres) which was published shortly before his death in 1543. In it, Copernicus argued that the Earth rotates on its axis and revolves around the Sun. Today, this concept may sound like a simple, matter-of-fact statement, but in the sixteenth century the idea that the Earth (and other planets) rotated around the Sun challenged long-held perceptions regarding the place of Earth – and man – in the Universe. For its time and in its context, it was a bold statement to make and given prevailing orthodoxies it took courage to do so.

Copernicus’ staunch support of a heliocentric model can only truly be appreciated when placed in the perspectives of his time. In the sixteenth century most astronomers subscribed to a theory of the Universe laid down by the Greek astronomer Ptolemy over 1,000 years earlier. Ptolemy argued that the Earth was stationary (i.e. that it did not rotate on its axis) and necessarily it was the centre of the Universe. This earth-centred perspective was itself built upon the work of the philosopher Aristotle (384 BC – 322 BC).

Before these ideas are dismissed as plain wrong, if not ludicrous, one needs to step back. Ptolemy was no fool, and his theory of epicycles was based on very careful astronomical observations. It had obvious difficulties (especially the so-called retrograde movement of Mars), but like any good scientific theory the epicycles theory could be modified. Of course, in the end the theory failed, but this in itself is a useful reminder that science is often provisional. To be sure, the heliocentric theory is as secure as anything we can imagine, but remember that our understanding of gravity (which is central to planetary orbital dynamics) is profoundly different from the time of Newton.

Heliocentrism is a model which acknowledges that the Sun is the centre of our Solar System and the planets revolve around it (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

That the Earth rotates around the Sun is today one of the fundamental pillars of scientific knowledge: without Copernicus there could not be Newton. It is a big idea, and these are milestones in scientific history. For the most part, science is a gradual, accumulative process with thousands of scientists around the world contributing to our combined pool of knowledge. However, as the example of Copernicus shows, being a scientist may require one to stick a head above the parapet of established tradition by proposing new, paradigm-shifting theories – regardless of the potential backlash from the preconceptions of peers and/or society at large.

To illustrate this notion further, let us consider another pillar of scientific knowledge, established three hundred years after the publication of De revolutionibus orbium coelestium. In the nineteenth century scientists such as John Frere, James Hutton and Charles Lyell strove to establish the great antiquity of man and in doing so demonstrate that the Earth was not a mere 6000 years old as a literal interpretation of scripture might have us believe, but potentially billions of years old (we now know the Earth is close to 4.6 billion years old). The idea of an ancient Earth was another long-established preconception challenged and overthrown through the rigors of scientific scrutiny. Again, as Martin Rudwick (2014) has shown so clearly the exponents of “shallow time” were no fools; the world-picture was as consistent as the evidence allowed. Nevertheless, where a preconception fell, a scientific pillar now stands. Without these great thinkers, without their dedication, perseverance and bravery, we would not have the enormous wealth of knowledge that we have today.

Just as Charles Darwin may have delayed the publication of On The Origin of Species because of fears over how the concept may be received (although John van Wyhe offers an alternative perspective on this), so arguably Copernicus delayed the publication of De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium for fear of backlash from the Catholic Church. Big ideas in science are important, but they can also very often be expressed at a considerable personal cost, even risk; society is not always ready to hear truths which necessitate revision of long-held beliefs.

To accumulate knowledge is an intrinsic and vital part of being a scientist, as is a devotion to impartial, objective thought, but one must also have the strength of character to speak one’s mind and stand by one’s findings, sometimes in the face of extreme adversity. The tragic case of the great geneticist Nikolai Vavilov is one such example and a salient reminder, but also a testimony to the moral fibre of such men and women who dedicated their lives to furthering our combined scientific knowledge.

Text copyright © 2015 Victoria Ling. All rights reserved.

References

Rudwick, M.I.S. 2014. Earth’s deep history: How it was discovered and why it matters. Chicago University Press.

Van Wyhe, J. 2009. Darwin. Andre Deutsch.

Photograph of Michael Faraday taken in the 1860s by John Watkins. Watkins was known for his portrait photographs of high-profile individuals (Image via Wikimedia Commons)

Michael Faraday (1791-1867) stands out as one of the most influential of scientists. His career began as a chemist but it is his work in physics, particularly electromagnetism, where he made his greatest scientific contributions, opening the doors to the age of electricity. Faraday was also one of the founders of electrochemistry, an area of research which seeks to understand the interplay between electricity and chemical reactions. Faraday was a man of high morals and he strongly believed in the importance of communicating science to the general public. He established the renowned Royal Institution Christmas Lectures in 1825, and these have continued in different guises to this present day.

Faraday’s journey into science reads like a work of fiction; the tale of a gifted underdog who through hard work, imagination, dedication, and an insatiable sense of curiosity for how the world works, overcame overwhelming odds to become one of the world’s greatest scientists. But this is not fiction, it is a true story, and is all the more inspirational for it.

Faraday came from a poor background, which in the world of nineteenth century England stacked the odds against anyone hoping to pursue a scientific career. In order to help support his family Faraday left school at the age of 13 to take a job as an errand boy for a local bookshop, run by one Georg Riebau. This became the initial rung of the ladder in Faraday’s scientific career and the first in a series of serendipitous events. Faraday’s hard work impressed his employer who promoted him to apprentice bookbinder. This opened up a new world to the young Faraday, providing him with access to a wealth of information that with his poor background he would otherwise have had no access to.

Faraday spent his free time reading the precious books that all day he had worked to bind. Of all that he read it was science that piqued his interest, particularly chemistry. Although his wages were small, he saved what he could in order to purchase materials that would enable him to replicate and test the experiments and principles that he learnt in the books. So began Faraday’s fondness – and natural ability – for scientific discovery through practical experimentation, something he was encouraged to undertake by Riebau who allowed him to use a space at the back of the bookshop.

In another serendipitous moment, one of Riebau’s customers gave Faraday a ticket to a series of lectures by the chemist and inventor Sir Humphry Davy. At the time Davy was one of the most famous scientists in England and Faraday took detailed notes at the lectures. These he later bound and sent to Davy as a token of respect. This act of veneration was to have fortuitous ramifications for the young Faraday; when Davy was injured in an experiment that impeded his ability to write, he remembered the impeccable notes that Faraday had sent and contacted him to ask if he would like to serve as his amanuensis for a few days. Faraday jumped at the opportunity and ultimately this led to Davy offering him the position of Chemical Assistant at the Royal Institution in 1813.

Faraday remained with the Royal Institution for the next 54 years. Here he succeeded Davy in 1825 (in the previous year he had been elected to the Royal Society), and in 1833 was made Professor of Chemistry at the Royal Institution.

Faraday was a prolific scientist and inventor. One could write volumes detailing his many and varied discoveries, but consider a few of his ‘greatest hits’:

– Gas liquefaction (1823). Using mechanical pumps to apply pressure, gases with high critical temperatures such as ammonia can be liquefied. Faraday also observed that when ammonia evaporates it causes its surroundings to cool. This ‘absorption cooling’ is the principle upon which refrigerators work;

– Discovery of benzene (1825). Faraday originally named this chemical compound ‘bicarburet of hydrogen’, and today benzene is used in the manufacture of a wide range of drugs, plastics, and detergents;

– Discovery of electromagnetic induction (1831). When a magnet is moved inside a coil of wire it causes electricity to flow. Accordingly, electricity could be generated by the rotation of magnets rather than by using metal plates and chemical solutions. Most of the electricity we use is a direct result of Faraday’s insight;

– Invention of the ‘Faraday Cage’ (1836), a cage-like structure composed of a metallic mesh which shields its contents from electromagnetic energy by distributing the charge around the exterior of the cage. The Faraday cage has a vast array of applications, from microwave ovens where it restricts the escape of electromagnetic radiation, to purpose-built cages around telecommunications equipment to protect them from lightning strikes;

A Faraday cage in operation. The women inside are perfectly safe because the charge is distributed around the outside of the cage (Image: Antoine Taveneaux/Wikimedia Commons)

– Discovery of the Faraday Effect (1845), the first experimental evidence to show that electromagnetism and light are related. The idea was later developed by the Scottish mathematical physicist James Clerk Maxwell in the 1860s, which established that light is an electromagnetic wave.

Faraday also flags up a common misconception that science and religion are mutually exclusive. In the media today, there is a time-worn formula for presenting the interplay between science and religion. On the one hand we have coverage of extreme religious opinions, whilst on the other hand we have prominent scientists (and comedians) who adopt a vocal atheist stance.

Any topic which presents a conflict of opinion between these two views has become staple ‘news’, but does it represent reality? This over-simplified polarization of views bears little resemblance to day-to-day life, with reality being somewhat more nuanced. Today, as in the past many scientists are atheists, some (like the great biologist Thomas Huxley) are agnostic, whilst others subscribe to a specific faith. For example, Faraday had no doubt of what he thought of as God’s agency in the world. Specifically, he belonged to the Sandemanian denomination which was an offshoot of the Church of Scotland. Nor was he alone. Recall, for example, that Gregor Mendel (the father of genetics) was an Augustinian monk, and Charles Lyell (the father of modern geology) was a devout Christian.

We know that Faraday was one of the world’s finest scientists, but where did he stand upon the subject of evolution? The answer is that we do not know. Charles Darwin published On the Origin of Species in 1861, just six years before Faraday’s death. Faraday made no disparaging comments about evolution, but Colin Russell (2000) suggests that his silence on the matter may have been because, like many physical scientists of the time, he dismissed evolution as “only a theory”.

However, one cannot help but wonder how, had Faraday lived longer, he may have reconciled his faith with the ever-growing body of scientific evidence for evolution. For example, Charles Lyell had enormous difficulty reconciling his Christian beliefs with natural selection. Despite this, Lyell and Darwin remained firm friends, happy to discuss their differences with respect and candor; a fitting tribute to the intelligence and open-mindedness of both men.

Faraday was hugely respected within his lifetime and so too the theoretical physicist Albert Einstein held Faraday in enormous esteem as one of his three scientific heroes (the other two being Isaac Newton and James Clerk Maxwell). Regardless of his success and veneration, Faraday remained a man of modesty and firm principles; twice he was offered the presidency of the Royal Society, one of the world’s oldest and most eminent scientific institutions, but on both occasions declined the honour. Faraday had come a long way, and it is worth noting that Joseph Banks, an earlier President, had rejected Faraday’s application for a job as a bottle washer as unworthy of a reply.

Faraday’s expertise in chemistry led the British government to ask him how chemicals could be used against Russia in the Crimean War. Faraday was more than capable of applying his knowledge to develop such weapons, but he found the very notion morally repugnant and refused to assist. Faraday also made a tremendous contribution to the public understanding of science, which included 123 Friday evening public discourses. Similarly, he was keen to apply science to the broader public good and this he did through his work on the efficiency of lighthouses and safety in coal mines. During his life he was offered a final resting place in the company of Kings and Queens at London’s Westminster Abbey, but he respectfully declined, choosing instead to be interred in the more humble surroundings of Highgate Cemetery, London.

Text copyright © 2015 Victoria Ling. All rights reserved.

References

Arianrhod, R. (2005)  Einstein's Heroes: Imagining the world through the language of mathematics.  Oxford University Press.

Cantor, G. (1991)  Michael Faraday: Sandemanian and Scientist.  A study of science and religion in the nineteenth century.  Palgrave Macmillan.

Ecklund, E.H. and Scheitle, C.P. (2007)  Religion among academic scientists: Distinctions, disciplines, and demographics.  Social Problems 54, 289-307.

Gooding, D. (1991)  Experiment and the Making of Meaning: Human Agency in Scientific Observation and Experiment.  Springer.

Gooding, D. and James, F.A.J.L.  (eds.) (1985)  Faraday Rediscovered: Essays on the Life and Work of Michael Faraday, 1791‐1867. Stockton Press.

Hamilton, J. (2003)  Faraday: The Life.  HarperCollins.

James, F.A.J.L.  (ed.)( 2002)  The Common Purposes of Life: Science and Society at the Royal Institution of Great Britain.  Ashgate Publishing Limited.

James, F.A.J.L. (2010)  Michael Faraday: A very short Introduction.  Oxford University Press.

Russell, C. A. (2000)  Michael Faraday: Physics and faith. Oxford University Press.

Studio portrait of Thomas Henry Huxley taken by Maull & Polyblanc, a London-based commercial photographers who, in the nineteenth century, specialised in images of eminent figures (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

Thomas Henry Huxley (1825-1895) was an English biologist who also carried out research in the fields of palaeontology and marine zoology. He acquired the nickname ‘Darwin’s Bulldog’ because of his vociferous defence of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection.

However, Huxley was a pioneering biologist in his own right; he was a leading expert on reptile fossils, an excellent anatomist, a fine illustrator and one of the key intellectual figures of the nineteenth century. He coined the word ‘agnostic’ to describe people such as himself who believed that it is not possible to know whether a deity exists or not. As a child, Huxley received only two years of formal education, and was largely self-taught in the sciences, history, philosophy and German.

Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was published in 1859, and soon after in June, 1860 the British Association for the Advancement of Science met in Oxford. The ensuing debate between Huxley and Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, became the stuff of legend and – as succinctly described by John Hedley Brooke (1991) – the idea that it represents an absolute polarisation of views is far too simplistic. Nevertheless, all those debating were of high intelligence, saw what was at stake if Darwin’s views proved correct, and were not shy of a rhetorical flourish. Wilberforce was fiercely opposed to the idea that species change through time, although his view was not based on untutored ignorance but rather a view that Darwin’s hypothesis was flawed. Nor, it needs to be emphasised, was Wilberforce alone in this regard.

Significantly, however, this debate was also attended by another opponent to Darwin’s theory of evolution, the eminent palaeontologist Richard Owen. Owen coached Wilberforce prior to the debate in order to strengthen his case against Huxley. Quite what was said in the famous exchange of views is now a matter of legend, but it seems that in an attempt to ridicule Huxley, Wilberforce asked if he was descended from an ape on his mother’s or father’s side. Huxley responded by saying that he was not ashamed to have a monkey for his ancestor, but that he would be ashamed to be connected with a man who used great gifts to obscure the truth.

The professional rivalry between Thomas Huxley and Richard Owen was so well known during their time that the writer Charles Kingsley made reference to it in his classic children’s book The Water Babies, published ... morein 1863. In this illustration from the 1885 edition, drawn by Linley Sambourne, we see Richard Owen (left) and Thomas Huxley examining a water-baby: “But they would have put it [the water baby] into spirits, or into the Illustrated News, or perhaps cut it into halves, poor dear little thing, and sent one to Professor Owen, and one to Professor Huxley, to see what they would each say about it.” (Kingsley, 1889, p.69) (Image by Linley Sambourne via Wikimedia Commons)

As an afterword to the Huxley-Wilberforce altercation, a little known fact – brought to light in 1980 by Harvard-based biological anthropologist Professor Richard Wrangham  – is that there is evidence to suggest that Wilberforce may have eventually softened his stance towards the concept of evolution.  Specifically, Wrangham discusses a poem written by Wilberforce (and subsequently discovered in his private papers held at the Bodleian Library, Oxford) written after his debate with Huxley. It ends with the lines:

“To soothe each fond regret, howe’er I can;

And, at the least, to dream myself a Man!”

In the words of Wrangham, the poem “..implies a man [Wilberforce] too committed to accept the evolutionary argument, yet too honest in the end to deny it. Who knows? Darwin may have had one more convert than he knew.”

Be that as it may, there is no doubt that in terms of science Huxley and Owen remained lifelong opponents. Nowhere were these differences more animated than in the debate over the degree of similarity between ape and human brains (sometimes referred to as the Great hippocampus question). This was significant because at the time, Huxley and Owen were the two leading British authorities on anatomy, yet they held entirely opposing views on the matter.

Owen believed that human beings should be taxonomically assigned to a separate mammalian subclass, thus distancing man from the rest of the animal kingdom. Owen claimed that ape brains were missing three uniquely human components; technically these are the posterior lobe, posterior horn of the lateral ventricle and the hippocampus minor (now called the calcar avis). Their purported absence in the apes Owen took as evidence against Darwin’s theory. Cosans (2009) describes how Huxley was so astonished by Owen’s claims – which he considered contradictory to the facts – that he saw no alternative but to refute them.

Huxley’s 1863 publication Evidence on Man’s Place in Nature, presented his definitive stance on the matter. The second chapter (On the relations of Man to the lower animals) was the most controversial, presenting a comprehensive review of the fossil and anatomical evidence for the similarities between man and apes. The debate was brought to a close when Sir Charles Lyell, Britain’s most eminent geologist and one of the era’s leading scientists, threw his support behind Huxley’s stance.

Equal to this contribution was the question of the origin of birds. Today, it is widely accepted that birds are descended from a branch of theropod dinosaurs, but fewer, however, are aware that it was Huxley who first proposed this evolutionary relationship.

In 1861,the German palaeontologist Christian Erich Hermann von Meyer described a fossilized feather discovered the previous year from Upper Jurassic sediments in southern Germany in the famous Solnhofen Limestone. Von Meyer named the fossil Archaeopteryx lithographica (meaning ‘the ancient wing from the lithographic limestone’). Shortly afterwards, the first skeleton of Archaeopteryx with feathers was described. At first its interpretation was rather convoluted, but Huxley made extensive and detailed comparisons of Archaeopteryx with various reptilian fossils and initially found that it was most similar to the small, chicken-sized theropod dinosaur Compsognathus: “Surely there is nothing very wild or illegitimate in the hypothesis that the phylum of the Class of Aves has its foot in the Dinosaurian Reptiles…” (Huxley, 1868, p.74).

Huxley was a great biologist and anatomist, and he played the key role in promoting and defending the theory of evolution by natural selection in the nineteenth century. He was also a pioneering educator, encouraging science students to carry out practical work in addition to book-based research, something which is now standard practice. He was a prolific writer, an articulate communicator and his pragmatic, no-nonsense approach to research was the embodiment of good academic form. He was also a man of high moral purpose and although he was lucky not to have seen the catastrophes of the twentieth century, had he done so he would have been horrified.

Sample of two handwritten letters from Thomas Huxley to the French ornithologist Alphonse Milne-Edwards. The letters appear to form part of Huxley’s research for his book The Crayfish: An introduction to the study of ... morezoology (1880). In them, Huxley requests to borrow two specimens of Madagascan crayfish in order to complete his examination of the southern hemisphere forms. (Photo & private collection: Victoria Ling, 2015).

Huxley famously remarked that so obvious was Darwin’s hypothesis that he wished he had thought of it. He would not have been alone, and one of the paradoxes of science is that the obvious may stare us all in the face, but only the person with the chutzpah of lateral thinking finds the solution.

The fact remains that when Huxley passed away in 1895, the world was a very different place to the one he was born into; he had played a key role in not only developing our understanding of the natural world, but more broadly speaking, encouraged unbiased, fact-based thinking. He founded a generation of open-minded scientists and his own descendants carried on his chain of perspicacious thinking: most notably, his grandson was the biologist Julian Huxley, who founded the World Wildlife Fund, and his other grandson Aldous Huxley was a writer, most famously known for the dystopian novel Brave New World.

The humble grave of one of the nineteenth century’s finest minds; Thomas Henry Huxley. Located in East Finchley Cemetery, London (Image: Victoria Ling)

Text copyright © 2015 Victoria Ling. All rights reserved.

References

Brooke, J.H. (1991)  Science and Religion: some Historical Perspectives. Cambridge University Press.

Chambers, P. (2002)  Bones of Contention: the Archaeopteryx scandals.  John Murray.

Cosans, C.E. (2009)  Owen's Ape & Darwin's Bulldog: Beyond Darwinism and creationism. Indiana University Press.

Feduccia, A. (1996)  The Origin and Evolution of Birds. Yale University Press.

Gross, C.G. (1993)  Huxley versus Owen: the hippocampus minor and evolution.  Trends in Neurosciences 16, 493-498.

Huxley, L. (1900)  Life and Letters of Thomas Henry Huxley.  Macmillan.

Huxley, T.H. (1863)  Evidence as to Man’s Place in Nature.  Williams and Norgate.

Huxley, T.H. (1868)  On the animals which are most nearly intermediate between birds and reptiles.  Annals and Magazine of Natural History 2, 66–75.

Huxley, T.H. (1870)  Further evidence of the affinity between the dinosaurian reptiles and birds.  Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society of London 26, 12–31.

Kingsley, C. (1889)  The Water Babies.  Macmillan and Co.

Lyell, C. (1863)  The Antiquity of Man.  Murray.

von Meyer, C.E.H. (1861)  Archaeopteryx lithographica (Vogel-Feder) und Pterodactylus von Solnhofen.  Neues Jahrbuch für Mineralogie, Geologie und Paläontologie 1861, 678–679.

Wrangham, R.W. (1980) Bishop Wilberforce: Natural selection and the Descent of Man. Nature 287, 192.