Among the myriad of changes that took place in Great Britain in the first half of the nineteenth century, many of particular significance to the historian of science and to the social historian are discernible in that small segment of British society drawn together by a shared interest in natural phenomena and with sufficient leisure or opportunity to investigate and ponder them. This group, which never numbered more than a mere handful in comparison to the whole population, may rightly be characterized as 'scientific'. They and their successors came to occupy an increasingly important place in the intellectual, educational, and developing economic life of the nation. Well before the arrival of mid-century, natural philosophers and inventors were generally hailed as a source of national pride and of national prestige. Scientific society is a feature of nineteenth-century British life, the best being found in London, in the universities, in Edinburgh and Glasgow, and in a few scattered provincial centres.

Mary Somerville (1780-1872), after whom Somerville College Oxford was named, was the first woman scientist to win an international reputation entirely in her own right, rather than through association with a scientific brother or father. She was active in astronomy, one of the most demanding areas of science of the day, and flourished in the unique British tradition of Grand Amateurs, who paid their own way and were not affiliated with any academic institution. Mary Somerville was to science what Jane Austen was to literature and Frances Trollope to travel writing. Allan Chapman’s vivid account brings to light the story of an exceptional woman, whose achievements in a field dominated by men deserve to be very widely known.

The first half of the nineteenth century witnessed an extraordinary transformation in British political, literary, and intellectual life. There was widespread social unrest, and debates raged regarding education, the lives of the working class, and the new industrial, machine-governed world. At the same time, modern science emerged in Europe in more or less its current form, as new disciplines and revolutionary concepts, including evolution and the vastness of geologic time, began to take shape. In Visions of Science, James A. Secord offers a new way to capture this unique moment of change. He explores seven key books—among them Charles Babbage’s Reflections on the Decline of Science, Charles Lyell’s Principles ofGeology, Mary Somerville’s Connexion of the Physical Sciences, and Thomas Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus—and shows how literature that reflects on the wider meaning of science can be revelatory when granted the kind of close reading usually reserved for fiction and poetry. These books considered the meanings of science and its place in modern life, looking to the future, coordinating and connecting the sciences, and forging knowledge that would be appropriate for the new age. Their aim was often philosophical, but Secord shows it was just as often imaginative, projective, and practical: to suggest not only how to think about the natural world but also to indicate modes of action and potential consequences in an era of unparalleled change. Visions of Science opens our eyes to how genteel ladies, working men, and the literary elite responded to these remarkable works. It reveals the importance of understanding the physical qualities of books and the key role of printers and publishers, from factories pouring out cheap compendia to fashionable publishing houses in London’s West End. Secord’s vivid account takes us to the heart of an information revolution that was to have profound consequences for the making of the modern world.