Towo good women

Two Good Women, or Too Good to be True?

Paula Gould

It can sometimes seem as if the history of women scientists is little more than a chronology of hardworking heroines. Did any women solve long-standing physical problems while musing in the garden, plagiarize a colleague’s data to interpret an unexplained phenomenon, or badmouth the work of a rival to gain glory for themselves? If they did, we don’t hear too much about it. Instead, we read how hardworking (and possibly downtrodden) female scholars with a passion for sums, stars, or fossilized shells, toiled long and hard in their chosen field of study to make worthy contributions to the pool of scientific knowledge. These models of scientific purity may have made new discoveries, written authoritative papers, or compiled admirable collections of specimens, but we see their achievements as a simple consequence of unstinting effort.

“Perhaps we should be applauding their skill in presenting a vision of domestic and scientific harmony”

Take Caroline Herschel (1750-1848) and Mary Somerville (1780-1872), for example, two icons of female scientific heroism. Biographical material for both women is relatively easy to find (1). We read of an honest and almost emotionless devotion to mathematics (Somerville) and astronomy (Herschel), with no hint of blind ambition, enthusiasm, or competitive spirit. Every ounce of energy that they had left after having completed numerous domestic duties appeared to be channeled into scientific study without a whiff of controversy, wrongdoing, or impropriety.

Delving deeper into archives, several biographical sketches can be found of both women published during the late 19th and early 20th century (2). It is here, I believe, that the seeds of martyrdom were sown. Biography was an extremely popular literary genre at the turn of last century. Tales of inspired inventors, eminent statesmen, and brave explorers jostled for space on library bookshelves. Although women didn’t tend to feature in these narratives of manly endeavor and genius, they did find a place in “great women” collections. The titles speak for themselves: A Few Good Women and What They Teach Us (1886); Twelve Notable Good Women of the Nineteenth Century (1899); Famous Sisters of Great Men (1905); The Romance of Woman’s Influence (1906). Readers were urged to follow the example of these heroines, who fit intellectual and social work around existing family commitments and societal expectation (3). Being good, following the rules, complementing the skills and qualities possessed by their husbands and/or brothers—this was how even emancipated, educated women were encouraged to behave. Caroline Herschel and Mary Somerville proved to be ideal subject matter for authors of such works.

So we have a picture of two diligent, well behaved women. Their blameless characters contrast sharply with the many men of science who have emerged from the archives with slightly grubbier reputations. How about George Biddell Airy, the former Astronomer Royal, who entered into a prolonged and rather unpleasant rivalry with Charles Babbage (1). And then there’s Richard Owen, the glory seeking anatomist who schemed his way up the scientific greasy pole to become known as the man who named the dinosaurs (4). We may not necessarily like these men, but they were and are still admired.

Caroline Herschel and Mary Somerville, on the other hand, appear guilty of merely bending a few rules of etiquette, rather than outwitting their colleagues in the rush for recognition. Similar behavior from members of the fairer sex would doubtless have been frowned upon. Ladies at this time were expected to learn needlework, not nebular theory, and to amuse themselves by playing the piano rather than solving differential equations. Yet both our heroines appear to have navigated their way around possible objections with ease, silencing any possible dissenting voices by combining an appropriate model of dutiful, ladylike conduct with their scientific studies. Perhaps we should be applauding their skill in presenting a vision of domestic and scientific harmony, leaving critics of women’s intellectual activity little or nothing to attack?

We will never know if Caroline Herschel and Mary Somerville were really this worthy and industrious. However, one thing seems certain.
No matter how much their lives have been polished into shape for academic history books, research papers, and celebratory Web sites, their life stories are unlikely to feature in glossy hardbacks piled high in book stores. Although narratives of unsung innovators and mathematical eccentrics are once again all the rage, as they were 100 years ago, tales of worthy women have gone out of fashion. Today’s readers want a more exciting lead character, not a saintly-but slightly dull heroine who succeeded in keeping up appearances. Perhaps it’s time to search the scientific archives for a new generation of less well-behaved women.

References

(1) MacTutor History of Mathematics; available at

www.history.mcs.standrews.ac.uk/history/index.html.

(2) P.A. Gould, thesis, University of Cambridge (1997), chap. 6.

(3) M. Vicinus, in Telling Lives in Science: Essays on Scientific Biography, M. Shortland and R. Yeo, Eds. (Cambridge Univ. Press, Cambridge, 1996), pp. 195-213.

(4) D. Cadbury, The Dinosaur Hunters: A Story of Scientific Rivalry and the Discovery of the Prehistoric World (Fourth Estate, London, 2000).

Paula Gould works as a freelance science and medical writer and editor, based in Chester, U.K. She has a Ph.D. in History and Philosophy of Science.

E-mail: Paula.Gould@absw.org.uk

| Issue 63 Contents |