Thrifty Science: Making the Most of Materials in the History of Experiment by Simon Werrett describes the role of improvisation and sustainability in early modern science in England. He is particularly interested in the mundane, material conditions of science of that time, so his book chapters focus on the environment in which the English practiced science and on the instruments they used. Werrett’s readers, who, like any audience of readers today, are accustomed to highly specialized and complex scientific instruments, like the Hubble Telescope or the Hadron Collider at CERN, might be be surprised at the sophisticated way he describes early modern people using seemingly simple scientific tools and instruments.
Before discussing Werrett’s notion of thrifty science in more detail and summarizing his book, I would like to introduce his background. According to his faculty page, Simon Werrett is a Professor of the History of Science at University College London. He was educated in The University of Leeds and Cambridge in the UK and has had fellowships at the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science and the Getty Research Center. His research interests include the connections between the arts and sciences in early modern Europe; empire, science, and technology; and Russian and Soviet science. Readers who are interested in watching him discuss Thrifty Science should check out a ten-part series of short videos of him on the YouTube page of The Department of Science and Technology Studies at UCL: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqDGBZHFcMlnaTbR1vS266tWaCnnCaCjK
Returning to Werrett’s book, in the first chapter, he argues that 17th century householders in England approached the creation of what he calls “natural science” with a “thrifty” attitude, according to which people doing experiments tried to make as much use as possible out of the objects they owned. While describing this attitude, Werrett introduces a key term, “oeconomy,” which refers to the proper management of the home and offers moral lessons about how a household should be kept in proper order. Thus, thrifty science is part of a wider moral or ethical ideology in early modern England.
The rest of Werrett’s book, except for chapter eight, focuses on various expressions of thrifty science. Chapter two discusses the home in early modern experimentation. He explains to his readers how early modern people generally viewed their homes as open, ambiguous places with rooms that were not as defined by purpose or function as they are in modern houses today, which have, for instance, kitchens designed for cooking and dining and living rooms for relaxing and socializing.
Werrett does, however, discuss a transition to a more modern style of architecture that historians have labeled the Great Rebuilding. During the Great Rebuilding, English homes began to expand with second stories with more rooms. As a result, occupants gained more privacy and they could move animals to buildings outside of homes. For early science, this meant a transition from homes that were, as Werrett puts it on page 45, “open-ended and capable of revision, reworking, and repair over time” towards homes with rooms that could be used specifically for experiments.
Chapters three through seven focus on the objects of early modern, thrifty science. In chapter three, Werrett describes the “playful, creative, and ingenious” ways people used objects in “scientific service,” as he puts it on page 65. He then gives examples of how ordinary objects of domestic life became scientific instruments and how early modern experimenters used improvisation, substitution, and bricolage to modify objects for new scientific purposes.
Chapter four discusses the cost, functionality, practical use, repair, and durability of scientific instruments. Chapter five focuses on the repair and maintenance of items, including the role of skilled artisans outside of the household and challenges servants faced while dealing with fragile instruments in the home. Chapter six discusses “secondhand science,” which refers to the practical and social aspects of trading scientific items. Chapter seven describes “dismantling science,” by which Werrett means the effect auctions had on the control over scientific instruments. Individuals in higher socioeconomic classes would loose collections of scientific instruments through auctions to enterprising lower class individuals, which, in turn, encouraged social mobility.
The final chapter describes the end of thrifty science with the transition to economic science, which celebrated objects that were intended for one-time use. To encourage profit under economic science, perishable items, like newspapers and cheap watches, were more available for consumers. As well, there was a gradual transition away from science in the home to science in laboratories, so that experimentation could take place in dedicated locations. Thrifty science, as Werrett explains in chapter two, took place in home settings, which were open and ambiguous locations and in which anyone in the family could take part in experimentation.
At the beginning of this essay, I wrote about how Thrifty Science will surprise its readers, who are accustomed to modern scientific instruments that are far more specialized and complex than the instruments Simon Werrett documents in his book. This is because, as I was reading his book, I kept remembering incidents with scientific tools and instruments that dominated the news over the last few decades, like a small imperfection in the Hubble Telescope’s mirror seriously damaging NASA’s reputation. Like probably all of us who read this book, I associate modern science with universities, research institutes, and billion dollar equipment.
The main argument of Simon Werrett’s book – that early modern science was “thrifty” and involved “playful, creative, and ingenious” ways people used objects for experimentation – reminded me that science can take place on a much smaller scale. As impressive as a billion dollar telescope in orbit is, the humble experiments I did in high school chemistry class with acids and bases or dissections in biology class were science, too. The main lesson I take from Simon Werrett’s book, then, is not to forget that science can be humble and take place on a small scale.
I have two additional comments about Thrifty Science before I end this review. The first has to do with his use of the word “science.” In several places in the book, I was surprised that he avoided using the word science, like in the following quote from page 88: “Maintaining philosophical material culture required the collaboration of servants, maids, relatives, and artisans, who no doubt performed much of the requisite labor.” (emphasis added) My immediate reaction to this passage was to ask myself why he’s referring to “philosophical material culture” instead of “scientific material culture.” Then, I realized that “philosophical material culture” might be a better choice given that he is discussing early modern so-called scientific activity. Given the number of times we have asked, “is this science,” in this class, I have learned to appreciate an author who can judiciously choose an alternative term at the right moment. I wonder if Werrett avoid the word “science” in certain cases so that he would not lead his audience to make assumptions about early modern “science” or natural philosophy.
My final comment was originally a complaint that came to mind while reading about the Great Rebuilding in chapter two. I disliked that Werrett was explaining the development of science or natural philosophy based on an architectural development in England. I immediately made the false assumption that he was privileging England over other parts of the world in the development of science. Last week, we read about indigenous people in South America having scientific or natural philosophical knowledge, so why is this week’s author so focused on England, I asked myself. Later, I read this line in the conclusion and realized I misunderstood Werrett: “The focus here has been on England and the home, but it might equally be asked what thrifty practices pertained in other places, among artisans, in the military, in churches and universities, and in the many other arenas that contributed to early modern science.”
The lesson I take from my short-lived complaint has to do with the general way authors write about science and how we discuss science in our class. When Simon Werrett writes on page 43 that, “[s]o this chapter explores how experimenters made use of their dwellings and exploited possessions and furniture to do experiments,” he is using general terms that suggest sweeping observations about how experimentation works. I was too willing to assume that he was making observations about science or natural philosophy as a whole, even outside of England and the UK. My lesson, then, is to pay attention to how I make general statements about history. I hope one day that I will have a chance to write about the history of science, so I will try to keep this lesson in mind and be as transparent for my readers regarding the language and concepts I use.
