Contention about who discovered the compound nature of water (the 'water controversy') occurred in two phases. During the first phase, in the 1780s, the claimants to the discovery (Antoine Lavoisier, Henry Cavendish, and James Watt) produced the work on which their claims were based. This phase of controversy was relatively short and did not generate much heat, although it was part of the larger debates surrounding the 'chemical revolution'. The second phase of controversy, in the 1830s and 1840s, saw heated (...) exchanges in Britain between advocates of Watt on the one hand and of Cavendish on the other. This paper concentrates on this second phase. The concern is not to arbitrate the contest but to delineate the pattern of advocacy and the arguments used to support the opposing cases. 'Discovery' is not treated as an event but as the outcome of an after-the-fact process of attribution of credit. Apart from identifying the opposing argumentative strategies employed in making different attributions, the paper also seeks to explain why there was so much concern about this priority dispute long after the deaths of the protagonists. It is shown that while Scottish-English rivalries were important they were not the only or most significant impetus. Ideological struggles over the nature of science provided a context in which the attribution of discovery to Cavendish or to Watt was of major import. These ideological struggles are shown to have roots in the politics of early Victorian science that ultimately lay behind the second phase of the water controversy and shaped the course that it took. (shrink)

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 Watt's chemical investigations as ‘physics’. This, in turn, produced the sharp separation of his chemical and engineering activities characteristic of modern historiography. Watt's 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. Watt's ‘indicator diagram’ is reassessed in the light of this. (shrink)

Summary The rhetorical uses of discovery and invention stories are legion, but of particular concern in this paper are those that are deployed for economic or commercial reasons, especially in claiming intellectual property rights, usually in the form of patents. The case of stories about Dr Irving Langmuir (1881–1957) of the General Electric Research Laboratory, who won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 1932 and was the first industry-based laureate from the United States, is examined. Langmuir won the prize for (...) his ‘outstanding discoveries and inventions within the field of surface chemistry’, which also happened to underlie the virtual monopoly that General Electric gained in the supply of electric light. Langmuir was the inspiration for the stereotypically absent-minded and disinterested character of Dr Felix Hoenikker in Kurt Vonnegut's novel, Cat's Cradle (1963). My case study focuses on this and other representations of Langmuir as a discoverer, especially those generated by the General Electric Company, and explores the utility of these representations for Langmuir himself, and for his employer, in corporate PR, in ongoing struggles over patents, and in the post-war organisation of R&D. It is argued that, while the era of corporate research produced new collective modes of discovery and invention their description in heroic, individualistic terms long continued, and for good reason. (shrink)

SUMMARYThis examination of an important paper by Sydney Ross is the first in a projected series of occasional reflections on ‘Annals of Science Classic Papers’ that have had enduring utility within the field of history of science and beyond. First the messages of the paper are examined, some well known but others, particularly Ross's own contemporary concerns about the use of the word ‘scientist’, less so. The varied uses made of the paper by scholars are then traced before Ross's biography (...) is examined in order to try to understand how a figure professionally marginal to the field of history of science came to write such a significant piece. Ross’s interest in the topic appears to have been informed by a romantically tinged scientific progressivism and a deep concern with the importance of linguistic precision in science and in public affairs. The inspirations of the author and the interests of his audience have been only partially aligned, but the paper's insights remain of broad historical interest and have wider ramifications since the denotation ‘scientist’ and its proper application are much debated today in contests over the authority of science. (shrink)