POPULAR SCIENCE
The Victorian Age was unquestionably the great age of physical science. It was not only the number and quality of the scientific men whose working lives were covered by this period that were responsible for this—although no period in history makes a braver show—but it was due also to the fact that the scientific discoveries of that age were often of the kind that rouses a vast amount of public attention. The attention of a cultured minority was no new thing in the history of science. Newton’s discoveries, largely through the influence of his indefatigable populariser Voltaire, speedily became, in a more or less adequate form, the common property of the cultured part of Europe. But from the time of Newton to that of Davy there was no such general attention paid to science; England and the Continent largely lost touch, even technical students working in comparative isolation, so that the great French advances in Newtonian philosophy were not appreciated for several years in England, and the cultured public in England itself no longer considered the intelligent observation of scientific progress to be one of its chief duties. It never did regain this outlook; science, becoming increasingly technical, became more and more completely the affair of a small and specialised class, until, by the middle of the nineteenth century, it was the most dissociated of intellectual activities. The great recrudescence of general interest in science was brought about by the discovery that this dissociation was merely a consequence of lack of attention, and that, in fact, scientific discovery was not unconnected with the major interests of mankind.
The publication in 1859 of Darwin’s Origin of Species persuaded the men of that time, rightly or wrongly, that science and religion were very intimately connected, and science, at one blow, obtained a degree of public attention without precedent in its history. The interest thus evoked was not always very intelligent, but it was intense and widely diffused; it extended to other branches of science, influenced the educational system of the country and gave rise to an enormous extension of “popular” science lectures and articles. This popular interest was of a different kind from the leisurely interest previously shown by the cultured classes. The latter was, indeed, much more genuinely an interest in science for its own sake; the former had a different emotional basis and was merely the diversion of an interest in religious or social questions. There is a controversial air about nearly all the popular scientific writings of that time; the scientific man, like his audience, was fully aware that he was talking about a good deal more than the ostensible subject of discussion. Science, the creature of the least popular of man’s activities, patient and unprejudiced ratiocination, became associated with violent emotions. With Biology and Geology this association was inevitable and immediate; their subject-matter happened to be that of the first few chapters of Genesis. But the more exact sciences, when public attention turned their way, could offer no such excitements. They seem to have compromised by specialising on “marvels.” The “Marvels of Science” became a familiar heading, and the unsophisticated public were stunned by figures: the distances of the stars, the number of molecules in a cubic centimetre of water, the weight, in tons, of the earth, the incredible minuteness of light-waves, and so on, the whole object of such discourses being, as Maxwell unkindly put it, to prevent the audience realising that intellectual exhaustion had set in until the hour had elapsed.
We readily admit that popular science of a very different kind was also provided. Faraday, Kelvin, Huxley, Tyndall, Maxwell himself, did their best to make the lay public acquainted with scientific methods as well as results, to present their results as part of a coherent theory instead of as items in catalogue of marvels. But it is the marvel-mongers who have proved most tenacious of life, so that “popular” science has now become a term of contempt, and any statement whatever, provided it has the right marvellous flavour, may be printed in our newspapers as scientific information. In America such marvellous statements, not only inaccurate but meaningless, occupy pages of the Sunday supplements, so that that meritorious organ, The Scientific American, has to announce, in self-defence, that it publishes, not “popular” science, but merely non-technical science. In our own country that sober periodical Nature used to print extracts from the more marvellous scientific items provided by the daily press, thus furnishing a little light relief from its own austere pages. The fact that this quackery exists is not unimportant. If it does no more, it often leads to a waste of time, for there has been more than one worthy gentleman who has imagined himself to be attacking the pernicious doctrines of science, when, as his argument makes clear, it is this kind of quackery he has in mind. The cure for this kind of thing would seem to be the development of a conscience in newspaper editors, unless we prefer to wait patiently until a tincture of science forms part of the education of an English adult.
But, turning to the popular but accurate scientific article, we may ask what purpose it serves. Should its object be to supply the deficiencies of a defective general education, to provide an easy introduction to science? Doubtless such articles or lectures have served such a purpose; Faraday himself, as we know, was won over to science by the blandishments of Mrs. Somerville, and there is more than one case where the current of a man’s life has been definitely changed by a lantern lecture. It is, nevertheless, a mistake to suppose that the attentive perusal of a number of popular science articles is equivalent to a scientific education, a mistake which is unfortunately very common. The fact is that the scientific treatise and the popular science article, so far from being rivals, serve entirely different ends, and may be read with profit by the same man. Broadly speaking, the function of the popular science article is to present science in its humanistic aspect. It should, while dealing with as definite a scientific problem as the author chooses, hint at the relations between this problem and the other interests of mankind. Very often these relations are implicit in the subject; such subjects are, in fact, usually chosen, and for that reason. But there is another type of article which has for its object the exposition of relations which are not obvious, and this exposition may be the result of a genuine and valuable intellectual effort on the part of the writer. Such articles are really essays in criticism and are not essentially different from the best type of literary criticism. Some of the best articles of this kind—some of those by W. K. Clifford, for example—are as truly “research” work as is the technical paper. A third type of article may, either by way of history or by way of logic, show the position occupied by a given theory or fact in a scheme of knowledge. This type is usually of more interest to the scientific student than to the general reader, since a general acquaintance with the whole subject is presupposed, and in this connection it is interesting to note that a powerful plea has recently been made for the more effective endowment of the teaching of the history of science.
If a popular science article serves none of these three purposes, it must inevitably be nothing but the description of a “marvel.” In competent hands this may be agreeable enough; the appetite for marvels is vigorous and universal, and its indulgence cannot be condemned as a vice. To look at a marvel for the pleasure of gaping is not, however, a very intelligent occupation, and, to judge from the number and kind of phenomena unhesitatingly ascribed to “the electricity in the air,” merely increases credulity. Regarded as a marvel, wireless telegraphy is, of course, merely a miracle, a fact extensively exploited by spiritualists. The human tendency to seize on the merely marvellous should, in fact, be carefully allowed for by the writer of popular science articles; he should, if anything, be even more reserved and pedantically precise than when addressing a scientific audience; an incautiously flamboyant remark is very likely to be seized upon to support some preposterous philosophy or religion. Usually, however, the popular science writer yields to the temptation, to épater his audience, to make himself more readable, as readability is now understood, and so he may, while speaking the truth, have all the effect of telling a lie.
Thus the division between the genuine and the quack science article is not, in practice, clearly defined. The difference between the writers is definite enough; but it is writer and public together which make the popular science article. Lack of education is just as great a hindrance to perception as is lack of sensitiveness. The poet may be subtly and completely misunderstood because his audience lacks sensitiveness, and, to compare small things with great, the conscientious retailer of scientific information may be in a like case for a different reason. So that if it is true that the best type of poetry is that written by the poet “for himself,” it is perhaps true that the best type of popular science article is written for a similar reason—because the writer is genuinely interested in working out certain speculations or treating certain facts in a certain way. Some of the very best popular articles—those by Helmholtz, for example—are of this kind, and have achieved a relative immortality, although, like the poetry which is read chiefly by poets, they are probably read chiefly by scientific men.