“Where is Fairyland?”: How Victorian Women Engaged with Popular Science

By: Sydney Slack

Introduction

The Victorian era saw great advancements in scientific knowledge and technology. The creation of the microscope, Darwin’s ideas about evolution, and the discovery of the electron are just a few of the achievements of the 19th century. These accomplishments circulated primarily in the form of scientific papers read by elites with access to higher education.1 In the late 1800s, popular science emerged as distinct from academic work, creating a space for writers to publish with a more general audience in mind. These authors focused less on the data and more on the stories that science reveals. 

At this time, women were generally barred from playing a role in the serious, academic work being done by male professionals. It is difficult to name any notable women working in science at this time, apart from the well-known Madame Curie.2 Instead, Victorian society viewed women as educators and the religious backbone of the household. However, a number of forms of evidence suggest that more Victorian women engaged with and were passionate about scientific knowledge than is generally believed. Becoming a popular science author was seemingly the easiest way to engage that passion and enter into a professional space. Between 1880 and 1915, female authors used their existing domestic authority to engage with that knowledge by writing scientific fairytales. Analyzing their work and comparing it to that of men in the late 19th century, demonstrates how women’s justifications for writing differed from men’s and why, revealing the nuances of gender roles within the scientific discipline. Specifically, women writers used references to religion’s role in nature, acknowledgment of men’s permission, and messaging for children’s education in their books in order to fulfill the dominant gender norms of the era. Within their books, these women appear to adhere closely to the idea of “True Womanhood,” making it abundantly clear that their authority to write comes from society’s ideal standards of femininity: piety, purity, submissiveness, and domesticity.3 

In doing so, they paved the way for later generations of women who would engage with science even more fully. Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, women’s education became more sophisticated and diverse in its majors. Science increasingly became an option for more women over the last 150 years, and yet women still make up less than a third of employees in scientific fields today.4 Yet even this progress would not have been possible without women, such as Arabella Buckley and Lucy Rider Meyer, who used their societal roles and created their own authority to write and engage with scientific work.

Historical Context & Historiography

Science in the Victorian Era

Scientific innovation often emerges as the result of economic or militaristic needs, and the Industrial Revolution was no exception. The British Isles depleted their natural resources as populations rose in the 1800s, leading to economic concerns that forced people into urban areas and encouraged exploration of the world to find more natural resources.5 The collection of potential scientists now congregating in cities created academic societies, which fostered even more innovation and discovery.6 Many of the ideas that form the backbone of science today, such as electricity, evolution, and atoms, were discovered in the 19th century.

Science became more accessible as universities began offering natural science studies, though these opportunities remained most accessible for the upper and middle classes.7 Though scientific societies called for more methodology and precision in research, “popular science”– science built for public consumption and easy understanding–gained traction amongst those without access to formal education or training.8 Throughout the 19th century, science maintained its prevalence in society, both among professionals and the common people.

The Divergence of Popular & Academic Science

Vast improvements made to the microscope during the 19th century paved the way for popular science to emerge as a distinct genre of writing, according to historians Laura Forsberg and Melanie Keene. Newer microscopes served as portals “into the unknown and mysterious world of miniature life.”9 Up until this point, the realm of microorganisms could only be imagined, populated with creatures such as fairies. Forsberg claims that fairies became a way to explain excitement surrounding this new tool in a way people could easily understand. Keene points out how writers combined “optical technologies” and “favorite childhood stories” to make science more exciting in books such as Alice Down the Microscope.10 Additionally, fairies’ magic could be likened to harmful bacteria – out of humans’ control.11 Unlike today, where science and fantasy seem far apart, in these early days of the microscope, “scientific discoveries and fairy fictions reinforced each other’s imaginative appeal.”12 Victorian people knew the difference between reality and fantasy, but such stories renewed their “sense of wonder” when observing the natural world, which was often used to promote the “Christian belief in the power of God” and prove the “wisdom and power of a divine creator.”13 A variety of paintings and fictional books about microscopes were produced to represent the miniatures of nature and open up “vast imaginative frontiers” in exacting and accurate detail.14 Creating an exciting natural world was especially important in the education of children just being introduced to the idea of close observation. The scientific fairytales explored in this paper are just a few such works that take advantage of fairy stories for the education of young people.

While microscopes gave people a more in-depth look at the fairy-land that surrounded them, social gatherings gave the middle class exposure to the scientific concepts that they read about. Historian Samuel Alberti claims that conversaziones, as he terms them, were active social gatherings that made science a fixture in “civic life.”15 These regular events featured not only professional scientists, but also amateur collectors and science writers as lecturers from all scientific disciplines.16 To Alberti, this demonstrates that the Victorian people were not passive observers, but pursued science actively as hobbyists.17 They were encouraged to participate in the “quest for knowledge” inherent in scientific experimentation, a remnant of Enlightenment thinking in the previous century.18 One key feature of these events is that women were allowed and at times even encouraged to attend and explore subjects that “were often barred to them” in the public sphere.19 Keene observes how at the time of such scientific advancement, Britain had a “fairy queen” on its throne in Queen Victoria.20 This might have made it more acceptable for women to engage with typically male subjects, such as science. 

As science became increasingly available to a wider audience, writers jumped at the opportunity to share their knowledge in a way that was easy to understand. Literary devices such as fairies made this even simpler, emphasizing a more story-like approach to science writing. This type of work, later coined “popular science,” was distinct from the academic papers of the past because it was written by journalists and amateurs rather than professional scientists.21 Popular science generally focused on the natural world, things that the reader could observe for themself, rather than the “activity of the scientist,” which readers could not identify with as readily.22 However, some professional scientists saw this as a threat to their authority. Historian Bernard Lightman highlights how professionals began to limit the extent to which their audiences could “access scientific truth” by including more technical jargon and focusing on the data, taking pride in the “veil of impenetrable language” they created.23 As with so many other things, Lightman explains, their attempts to “legitimate site[s] of scientific activity” ended up marginalizing women.24 Consequently, popular science remained a way for women to engage with science writing despite their exclusion from academic work.

Women’s Roles in the Early 19th Century

The way women were viewed in the late Victorian era was a natural evolution of how women were treated throughout the 18th-century: women were limited to roles in the home. However, as the Industrial Revolution took root and more men worked in factories rather than on farms, the role of women changed as well.25 Historian Sara Evans suggests that this provided the opportunity for women to “redefine their sphere of influence” without challenging it directly.26 With the male head-of-house out at work for most of the day, the home effectively became a “woman’s sphere,” where women established some level of dominance.27 Women became increasingly responsible for the raising and education of children, and “maternal affection became the main force at home.”28 

The women’s sphere also became a religious role, as women’s interests fell increasingly in line with those of the Christian faith, specifically temperance and faithfulness.29 This way of thinking gave women another level of authority within the home: the moral backbone of the family. Women might have interpreted this moral obligation to society as a call to take a “more active part in running the world, especially since men were making such a hash of things.”30 If nothing else, the women’s sphere helped foster a well-connected and supportive female community, which became a stepping point for women’s independence, individualization, and professionalization throughout the 19th century. 

Women & Education

Public education became more prominent in the 1820s and ‘30s with the creation of common schools, and there were increasing opportunities for women’s education as the century  progressed, including the creation of women’s higher learning academies.31 These schools taught courses in the domestic arts, religion, and other “feminine” disciplines.32 Support for women’s academies highlighted their utilitarian nature: making women “better homemakers” and “[equipping] them for the upbringing of sons.”33 Later, women’s colleges emerged from the work done by these academies and worked under the assumption that women “exerted influence in society and educated women could do so better than others.”34

As the first generation of these women graduated, those who didn’t begin their domestic lives immediately needed something to do with their newfound education. All their potential career opportunities still centered around the ideals set forth by “True Womanhood,” and women needed to keep in mind that “profession meant service not profit.”35 So, many women chose to teach, a profession which was viewed as “equivalent to the noble vocation of motherhood but, at the same time, comparable to the male professions of law, medicine, and ministry.”36 Women were also able to find work as librarians and were instrumental in the creation of children’s libraries, according to historian Suzanne Stauffer.37 Librarians helped to “improve society” and encourage the “transmission of culture,” which would become one of the best arguments women could use to justify their engagement in public life and work.38 Not only does this highlight the service-oriented mindset that women would use to enter male-dominated spaces, but it also emphasizes the connection between women and children’s education through the written word.

Beginning in the 1890s, a new kind of woman was beginning to emerge in American society, later termed The New Woman. These women, emerging from that first generation of academies, were set apart by their high level of education, prolonged single life, and increased activity outside of the home.39 Pulling from old ideas of female morality, it was believed that women belonged in the political, and therefore public, world because their dedication to social responsibility would “clean up corruption.”40 

Women as Authors

Writing has long been one of the few professions a woman could take part in beyond domestic work. Though rarer than a career in teaching, some women found great success in writing, especially as authors of popular literature.41 Rising literacy rates and the emergence of literature specifically for young people meant women could target their work at children, rather than compete with college-educated, male academics writing for a professional audience. 

A number of female writers were active in 18th-century America, especially during and after the Revolutionary War in the United States.42 Historian Nina Baym implies that Republican Motherhood, the concept that a good mother would ensure her children were educated in a way that would instill American values, provided the initial justification these upper-class American women needed to write.43 As Baym describes, much of this justification is based on traditional gender roles. The greater physical strength of men legitimized the “intellectual work of women.”44 In other words, men made history while women recorded it.45 According to Baym, these early female history writers based their work on their love for their country and family to make their writing more acceptable in society, similar to 19th-century women’s dedication to improving society through their work.46 The women that Baym describes did not let the traditional gender roles of the 18th century stop them from writing, instead, they turned those roles on their heads and made them into justifications for writing and intellectual thought.

Kimberly Glassman furthers this point in her analysis of scientific writing from Harriet Sheppard, a female botanist of the early 19th century. Sheppard specifically manipulated the expectations of women in order to ingratiate herself into male academic circles.47 In her home, Sheppard played her role as “hostess, mother, and wife.”48 According to Glassman, in her letters to prominent botanists and other scientists, Sheppard “contextualized botany as an amusing and productive pastime,” rather than a serious pursuit that others may have questioned.49 These same letters reference news of her children before engaging in any serious discussion in botany, giving the impression that she was first and foremost concerned with the wellbeing of her children, as was expected of middle-class women.50 Adherence to all other societal expectations may have given Harriet more freedom when it came to her writing. Her letters also usually include a line indicating she was writing with the permission and encouragement of her husband.51 Sheppard goes even further and ensures that her scientific observations and arguments are always based on works from “a distinguished man.”52 As Glassman states, Sheppard usually cushioned her work in “submissive and domestic tones” even as she engaged seriously with botanical discoveries and made a name for herself in the field.53 Yet, Sheppard was a unique case, writing in the academic world. More women were able to engage with other kinds of writing as the 19th century wore on.

As discussed earlier, the 1890s saw the advent of the New Woman, and with it came a boom in women authors. According to historian Michelle Elizabeth Tusan, female authors tried to portray the New Woman as a “reasonable and thoughtful woman” who has her nation’s best interests at heart.54 Although Tusan focuses on female political writers, many of the themes she identifies resonate with what Baym and Glassman say about their subjects. The New Woman writer was dedicated to expanding her public role in order to “[promote] the welfare of society,” trying to serve rather than overturn traditional gender roles.55 Historian A. R. Cunningham states much the same, saying women became authors to express their opinions and be “liberated from the constricting male ideal of femininity,” but did not desire to eschew the female role altogether.56 New Woman writing debated what marriage should be in the 19th century, but still held on to the Victorian ideals of “purity, self-sacrifice, and devotion” as essential to women and reinforced the idea that a woman’s maternal instinct could benefit society at large, echoing the ideals of True Womanhood.57

Baym, Glassman, Tusan, and Cunnigham provide the basis on which the science fairy tales of the 1880s and 1890s will be analyzed. By identifying places where the authors express religious or moral sentiments, intent to educate children, desire to benefit society, and encouragement from men, the argument can be made that these women used their role in society as a justification to write in the male-dominated field of science.

Up until this point, there have been few, if any, papers that explore the connection between women and popular science. Even Keene, who focuses exclusively on scientific fairytales, is primarily concerned with what they say about science education. This paper hopes to help fill that gap by analyzing how women used their unique position in Victorian society to write about science, a field from which they were traditionally denied access. 

Author Biographies

A number of popular science authors are referenced throughout this essay. The following is a list of the authors, their works, and short biographies.

Arabella Buckley was the author of The Fairy-Land of Science (1883) and A Short History of Natural Science and of the Progress of Discovery from the Time of the Greeks to the Present Day (1894).58 Born in 1840, she grew up in England in a conventionally middle-class Victorian household.59 She worked as a secretary for Charles Lyell, well known for his advances in the field of geology, from 1864 to 1875.60 After Lyell died, she became a science writer and lecturer, maintaining connections with notable scientific names of the day, such as Charles Darwin.61 Many of her books show early support for Darwin’s ideas of evolution, and her connection with these men meant that Buckley stayed relevant within popular science despite her gender and lack of a formal degree.62

Lucy Rider Meyer was the author of Fairy Land of Chemistry: Explorations in the World of Atoms (1887).63 She lived from 1849 to 1922 in the United States, and during her life, she was better known as a religious figure and social worker.64 Meyer earned a medical degree from Oberlin College, one of the only colleges accepting women at the time.65 However, she primarily worked as a teacher and principal of a women’s training school.66 Meyer was particularly active in the Methodist Church and the revival of the female diaconate.67

Lily Martyn wrote Princess & Fairy, or, The Wonders of Nature (1899).68 Unfortunately, no other information is known about Lily Martyn or her life beyond her authorship of this book, although its publication in London suggests that she was a resident of England.

Agnes Giberne wrote Among the Stars or Wonderful Things in the Sky (1915).69 She was born in the United States in 1845 and began writing books at age 7.70 She obtained a love of science from her father and a love of literature from her mother.71 Over her lifetime, Giberne would write over a hundred books on various subjects, but always came back to astronomy.72 Giberne was also a devout Anglican and included a prayer in many of her books.73

F. M. Holmes wrote and published Chemists and their Wonders: The Story of the Application of Chemistry to Various Arts and Manufactures (1896) in London.74 He wrote a number of other books on various professions, such as engineers and firefighters. 

John Henry Pepper wrote The Playbook of Metals (1896).75 He was a professor of chemistry at the Royal Polytechnic Institute in England, as well as an inventor, lecturer, and the author of one other book as of 1862.76

J. Dorman Steele and J. W. P. Jenks were the co-authors of Popular Zoology (1887).77 Steele, born in 1836, fought in the Civil War before returning to his life as a teacher.78 He worked with his wife Ester to write many of his textbooks.79 Jenks was a professor of agricultural zoology at Brown University in Rhode Island.80 Jenks provided verification for the accuracy of the book, completing the book for publication after Steele’s death.81 

It is important to note the few trends that emerge in the authors’ biographies alone. Primarily, female authors were almost always better known for something besides their scientific writing. Buckley, for example, is still best known for her work as Lyell’s secretary, and most sources focus on Meyer’s work in religion, often not commenting on her scientific work. Additionally, the women’s biographies all mentioned some relation to religion or morality (Larsen’s article on Buckley has “spiritualism” in the name). On the other hand, all the information available on male authors makes almost no reference to religion and instead focuses on their degrees, where they taught, and what other works they had published. This is important because of how it conforms to the Victorian idea of distinct spheres of influence, in which women are the spiritual and moral guides for society and men are the professionals.

It is also worth noting that these works bridge the Atlantic Ocean; most were published in London, New York, or Boston. This suggests a larger, global trend in popular science writing during the Victorian era, which allowed women to become authors only if they adhered to traditional gender norms.

Analysis of Science Fairytales & Similar Works

The Wonder of God’s Nature

One common trend in many of the women-authored science texts of this era was to emphasize religious justification for educating children. For example, in 1887, Lucy Rider Meyer published Fairy Land of Chemistry in London. One of many popular science works written in the late Victorian era, Meyer’s is unique due to her focus on the phenomena of chemical bonding and movement, which she explains using fairies to represent atoms.82 In the preface to her book, Meyer emphasizes that the purpose of her book is to encourage children to “lift their thoughts in trustful reverence to the One who holds in His hand the Atoms as securely as He holds the Worlds.”83 Through this, Meyer calls on her religious role in society as a justification for her writing, as well as encouraging others to do the same through a better understanding of chemistry.

Arabella Buckley made a similar statement in the preface to her popular science book The Fairy-Land of Science, published in 1883.84 The last sentence in the book, the big message she wanted readers to take away, was that the topics covered in the book are “one and all the voice of the Great Creator, and speak to us of His Nature and His Will.”85 In her other book, A Short History of Natural Science (1894), Buckley makes another such comment.86 In the dedication, Buckley writes that she wishes that the book might “develop in those who read it that earnest and truth-seeking spirit in the study of God’s works.”87 By putting this message at the very front of A Short History of Natural Science, Buckley makes it even more apparent that this is what she wants her readers to take away from her book. 

Similarly, in her book Among the Stars (1915), Agnes Giberne doesn’t even wait until the preface to make it known that religion and adoration of God’s universe are at the center of her writing.88 On the title page, she includes a quote that the stars sing “in their language glad and golden” that “God is Love, and God is Might.”89 Giberne wastes no time in connecting her ideas to her role as a moral guide to young people, hoping that they will see the glory of God as they look up into the night sky. Embracing her Victorian role as a moral and spiritual guardian, Giberne uses it to establish the authority necessary to publish a science-themed book as a woman in the early 20th century. While referring to nature and its workings as God’s intervention was a prevalent trope in popular and natural science, these female authors used this idea to write about science without completely defying their role in Victorian society. Ultimately, all three attribute the importance of their work as women writers to explaining the wonders of God’s work in the world and demonstrating how God plays a role in everything that happens and should be worshiped for it. In essence, their work is meant to better the morality of Victorian society and demonstrate a woman’s devotion to piety.90

Not all female authors were as overt in their religious references. For instance, instead of directly mentioning God in her book, Princess & Fairy, or, The Wonders of Nature (1899), Lily Martyn describes nature as incredibly pure and wonderful, which the reader must then attribute to a greater power. One of the very first things the instructor, or Fairy, tells the main character, the young princess, is that they live in a “wonderful world” and that wonders surround them if only they can “see rightly.”91 The Fairy then goes on to reverse the Princess’s opinion of snails, calling them “wonderful and beautiful” creatures and pointing out how clever it is that snails carry their homes on their backs.92 These kinds of excited descriptions carry on throughout the book, characterizing butterflies, spiders, and a variety of plants. While the Fairy does seem to instill a respect for Nature, it appears to go beyond that, making nature something to be revered, as one would with God’s handiwork. So even without being as clear as Buckley or Meyer, Martyn still manages to work in the teaching that as the creator of this world, God should be venerated, and therefore establishes her role as a moral role model for children. 

In contrast, men writing popular science in the same era often do not attribute their work to God or reference religion in the same ways. For instance, the preface of F. M. Holmes’s book Chemists and Their Wonders makes no reference to God or the beauty of nature.93 Holmes, rather, does the opposite, making his preface about the growth of man’s knowledge in the field of chemistry.94 His writing was less about showing off the wonders of science from a natural perspective and more about telling “the story of some of such successful applications” of industrial chemistry.95

Even apparent references to religion by male authors were often rooted in science. For example, on the title page of Popular Zoology by J. Dorman Steel and J. W. P. Jenks, the authors included a verse stating that nature is a “story-book / Thy Father hath written for thee.”96 Religious connections to science are, of course, not exclusive to women. However, these men are likely not including this verse for the same reasons as a woman. Female authors would include some sort of religious appeal as a means to justify their authorship through their moral role in society. Upon further investigation, the verse Steele and Jenks included is a stanza from a longer poem by Longfellow called “Tribute to Agassiz.”97 Louis Agassiz, who died in 1873, was a popular zoologist and would likely have been an inspiration to the authors of Popular Zoology.98 Therefore, one could argue that the verse was actually included as an homage to an idol in the field just as much as it was an acknowledgment of the beauty of nature.

Getting Permission from Men & the Public

Within Victorian society, it was essential to maintain the idea of spheres of influence distinguished by gendered values and tasks. This made it especially challenging for women to enter into the man’s sphere of public, academic work. Having outside support or the endorsement of prominent men in the field helped the process by allowing women to fulfill the True Womanhood ideal of submissiveness.99 Therefore, many women trying to enter into the world of popular science writing provide some sort of reference to a man who aided or encouraged them in the process.

In Meyer’s preface, she thanks W. C. Richards, a professor of chemistry at Berkshire Medical College and well-known science lecturer, for his “assistance and encouragement”.100 This is reminiscent of what Kimberly Glassman says about receiving male permission to write in her article about botanist Harriet Sheppard.101 Meyer’s specific use of the word “encouragement” rather than “support” or another word reflects the authority given to her by a well-respected man in the field of popular science to write this book. Therefore, like Sheppard, she remains true to her societal role as an obedient woman.

On the other hand, Buckley, previously secretary to prominent geologist Charles Lyell,  lays out how she “availed [herself] freely of the leading popular works on science” and clarifies that these works are the “common property of scientific teachers.”102 Instead of acknowledging an individual man giving her permission to write, Buckley viewed the increased availability of popular science writing as giving her the authority to “translate” that work into a book for children. She references how the inspiration for the topics in the book came from a series of lectures she gave and that she was asked by the audience to “publish them as a children’s reading book.”103 Instead of gaining the express permission of a man to write the book, Buckley plays into the idea that women can become professionals if the work they do is primarily for the benefit of society rather than for profit, in this case for the betterment of her “juvenile readers.”104 

Buckley uses a similar strategy in A Short History of Natural Science. She acknowledges her book is an unusual task for a woman to undertake with statements like “with some anxiety” and “I cannot expect to have succeeded” in all her descriptions.105 Using self-deprecation, Buckley sets herself up as an amateur happy to learn from those more qualified; she makes herself subservient, as was appropriate for a woman in this era. This is then reinforced by her specific mention of her mentor Charles Lyell in the dedication and her “obligations to many kind friends,” calling out Mr. A. R. Wallace, a naturalist and geographer, in particular.106 By calling attention to the names of these two scientists, Buckley asserts that she has the authority to write this book because it has the approval of two of the biggest names in natural history. Additionally, like in The Fairy-Land of Science, Buckley mentions children and education multiple times as her purpose for writing. She mentions that this “first attempt” to write a concise history of science was undertaken to introduce “young and unscientific people” to ideas that “ought to be known by every educated person.”107 In this one statement, Buckley not only establishes that her purpose is for the benefit of society but also plays into the “great efforts” being made to teach children and create a universally educated society.108 Though less of a fairytale and more of a textbook for children, Buckley takes the same amount of care, if not more, to establish that she has been given authority through men’s support and her position as a Victorian woman in A Short History of Natural Science.

In concordance with the precedent set by Buckley, Giberne also dedicates her book to a man in the field of astronomy. She states that Among the Stars is “dedicated by permission” to Reverend Charles Pritchard, who she establishes as a professor of astronomy at Oxford.109 In this one statement, she goes above and beyond Buckley in obtaining authority to write from a man. The fact that Pritchard allowed the book to be dedicated to him shows that he both knows and approves of it, to the point of having his name associated with it. Giberne also tells her audience that he is a credible source of authority since he is a professor in the field at a well-respected university. Only Giberne and Meyer went to such lengths to prove they had male permission, and both wrote about one of the hard sciences intended only for men. Then, in the actual preface, Giberne states how it has been “repeatedly suggested” to her that she write a volume for children, and how she hopes it will fulfill “a household need.”110 Not only does she establish that there is a public call for her book, Giberne expressly states how she believes this book will benefit society by helping other women to educate their children, exactly what is expected from women at this time. This one statement roots her work and her authority into the domestic sphere which was distinctly a private, feminine space and essential to the maintenance of Victorian gender values. This is especially notable when one realizes Giberne has already published an astronomy book (Sun, Moon, and Stars), albeit a more challenging read.111 Despite her existing qualifications, Giberne still feels the need to justify her authority in writing this book. 

This, by no means, is intended to say that male popular science authors did not dedicate their work. Of course, they did, but in a different capacity than women did. A woman needed to dedicate or acknowledge the encouragement of a man in order to justify her authority to write, whereas a man could dedicate the book to whomever he liked. Take, for instance, John Henry Pepper. In two of his books, The Playbook of Metals (1862) and The True History of the Ghost (1890), Pepper dedicates the book to his friend Walter Hughes, Esq.112 In the latter, Pepper specifically references that his dedication is meant as a thank you to Hughes for helping him with some legal troubles.113 Unlike the female authors, who all dedicated or referenced male scientists and professors, Pepper is merely thanking a good friend in an entirely different field. Just because men didn’t have to thank other men to justify their authority doesn’t mean they were completely without manners. Later in his introduction Pepper expresses thanks to three men, Professor Tennant, Mr. Evan Hopkins, and Professor Ansted, for their “much valuable information.”114 In this instance, his acknowledgment might serve a very similar purpose to the female authors’ acknowledgments: Pepper is a chemist and he needed to justify his authority in the fields of geology and metallurgy by recognizing the names of scientists who helped him. The big difference comes when one considers that Pepper is a man trying to account for knowledge coming from a field outside his own, whereas Buckley, Meyer, and the other women are trying to defend their ability to write about science in the first place.

The Characters Themselves

Within the women-authored texts, the character choices they make also reflect adherence to some gender conventions. There are aspects of Princess and Fairy that demonstrate how Martyn fulfilled the expected gender roles by teaching that “real,” academic, or hard sciences were male disciplines, while the natural sciences could be accessible to women. For instance, after learning more about various plants, the Princess chooses to begin a garden and undertakes the task with great vigor.115 Her parents, the King and Queen, hear about this new hobby and are “greatly pleased” by the news.116 Aside from the beginning and end of the story (when they send the Princess away and ask her to come home), this is the only time the pair is mentioned. The approval shown by the King and Queen, authority figures in the Princess’s life, in regard to her starting a traditionally feminine hobby is reflective of how women’s roles in the natural sciences were seen by Victorian society. 

This is further demonstrated when the Princess and the Fairy begin talking about metals. Up until this point, the Fairy has had access to or been able to provide all the Princess’s learning materials because they could be found in the natural world. However, when they start their lessons on metals, the Fairy must reach out to a “learned man” to provide samples they could observe.117 To go along with this, the Fairy has yet to be stumped by one of the Princess’s questions, but when faced with a question about processing metal ore, the Fairy admits she finds it “rather difficult” to explain.118 After doing her best to explain, the Fairy then asks if she is “wearying” the Princess with her explanation, revealing a more traditional outlook that these more technical processes are too much for women and might adversely affect their health.119 By including these sentiments in her work, Martyn didn’t challenge Victorian gender roles, which perhaps allowed her to more successfully market her book to the general public.

Other authors followed suit. Meyer adhered to traditional gender roles in Fairy Land of Chemistry, suggesting that this made the book more socially acceptable. The children in the story are sent to live with their Uncle Richard, who is a professor of chemistry at some unnamed college.120 He is the one responsible for teaching them all about the various elements, bonding, and other chemistry fundamentals. Giberne does similarly in her book. Among the Stars features a young boy, Ikon, who is eager to learn more about space and stars in particular.121 Despite spending most of his time with his nursemaid Dormer, Ikon must wait for a visiting professor to arrive in order to learn more about his desired topic.122 In this instance, Giberne deliberately passes over Dormer as an instructor. Dormer specifically discourages Ikon from asking his questions, favoring her more feminine role of keeping him healthy after a long illness.123 It is unclear whether this sort of writing is an intentional tactic to keep books socially acceptable or if the authors did not see the need to challenge norms in their work. However, the fact that their books maintained men as the teachers of scientific thought could not have hurt their authority in writing them.

Meyer does provide one small exception to the trend of maintaining traditional gender roles. In Fairy Land of Chemistry, Uncle Richard is just as excited to teach his niece as he is his nephew.124 He neither excludes her nor insults her intelligence in his explanations. This could be Meyer’s way of making her book more approachable to both young boys and girls, but it could also be her way of making a statement about gender equality in the world of science.

Intended Audience

Another big difference between the popular science books written by men and women is their intended audience. Both Meyer and Buckley explicitly state that their books were written for young people, befitting the female role of educator and mother, as well as the “True Womanhood” ideal of domesticity as it relates to those roles.125 Most of the books by female authors feature children as the main characters, such as Meyer’s main characters Jessie and Joey.126 Conversely, men’s books often feature no characters whatsoever and read more as textbooks. There are, of course, exceptions. Notably, Buckley’s Short History of Natural Science is clearly intended as a textbook, whereas Holmes’ Chemists and Their Wonders is told through main characters Phil and Carrie.127 In Holmes’ case, this likely speaks more to the growing idea of creating education specifically for children, rather than purposefully challenging gender roles. Additionally, Holmes’ story was published after the women’s books, which featured characters, found success. It is possible that he was following their lead in order to capitalize on that same achievement. In regards to A Short History of Natural Science, Buckley may have been able to publish a more textbook-like book because of her previous success with writing a book, which was more story-like and clearly intended for young children.

On the other hand, there is no mention of children anywhere in Holmes’ book Chemists and Their Wonders, though he does emphasize that his book will not be “technical or exhaustive,” suggesting a more general audience.128 Holmes is not obligated to justify his writing through the acknowledgment of any particular audience or societal gender role. Though John Pepper Henry does state that he hopes his book, The Playbook of Metals, will “be of service to the youthful reader,” this was likely referring to older teens as books were not commonly written for young children (under 14) until after 1875.129 To cement this idea further, Pepper goes on to suggest that his readers look into “the more advanced works” of Lyell and other serious chemists and geologists.130 Popular Zoology contains very similar language in its preface, specifically stating that this is a book intended for older students looking to “undertake the study of Nature.”131 The book even contains a section entitled “Suggestions for Teachers,” which gives advice on how students can begin their own research.132 Even in the Victorian era, it is hard to imagine young children being encouraged to “develop a taste for curing and mounting” animal specimens or read such advanced materials as “Carpenter’s ‘Comparative Physiology.’”133 Their books are very clearly intended as instructions for people wanting to seriously enter the scientific fields, whereas women’s books are more commonly meant as both instruction and entertainment, introducing young children to the wonders of science generally. As men, Pepper, Steele, and Jenks do not need to cater to a particular audience to fulfill their societal role. Merely being successful authors and scientists is sufficient for them to avoid suspicion or derision as writers.

The font size and line spacing in each book help support the differences in the intended audiences. Chemists and Their Wonders has thirty-nine lines per page, whereas Fairy Land of Chemistry has twenty-three lines per page and The Fairy-Land of Science has thirty-two lines per page.134 The Playbook of Metals has nearly fifty lines per page.135 Fewer lines per page allowed for a bigger font and more spaces between lines, as would be appropriate for a children’s book. 

Another aspect of these books to note is their titles and covers. Almost all the women’s book titles contain the word “fairy.” Their covers feature gilded images of fairies or other scenes from the books themselves, such as the Princess and Fairy observing a flower.136 They are intended to be whimsical and delightful to a younger audience, drawing the reader in and making them ponder about what kinds of stories are inside. Fairies were also extremely popular in the Victorian era and provided a great way to explain difficult concepts to less-educated minds. While some of the books by male authors contain allusions to fantastical things, think Chemists and Their Wonders, more often than not their titles are merely descriptive of what the text is about. As seen below, their covers are usually undecorated and plain, in accordance with their utilitarian nature. Their readers likely already know what kind of book they are looking for or are prescribed to read for their coursework. They don’t need to be captured by lively artwork, nor would they appreciate the same way as younger readers might.

Figure 1. Scientific fairytales authored by women, featuring their highly decorative covers. The Fairy-Land of Science by Arabella Buckley (left) and Princess and Fairy, or the Wonders of Nature by Lily Martyn (right).137

Figure 2. An example of a popular science book by a male author, with a very plain cover design. The Playbook of Metals by John Henry Pepper.138

Conclusion

At a time when men dominated the scientific fields, a few women took great effort to ensure they were heard. Women, such as Arabella Buckley, Lucy Rider Meyer, Lily Martyn, and Agnes Giberne, used aspects of the Victorian female gender role to break into the realm of scientific writing. In their books, these women express religious sentiments, appeal to children, and acknowledge male permission in order to write without challenging traditional gender norms. In comparison, male authors of the same time period used fewer, if any, of these tactics, because they already had the authority to write by virtue of being men in the 19th century. Writing at a time when the first generation of college educated women graduated and entered the world, these female authors of science fairytales and other works of popular science set a precedent for, and likely inspired, the next generation of women to enter the field in larger numbers. They are some of the first women to set in motion the ability for women to do scientific work, especially in biology and chemistry. The chances they took to publish paved the way for later women to take a more academic role in science, women such as Barbara McClintock, Rosalind Franklin, and Jane Goodall. As women today are still challenging male dominance in the field and fighting for an equal place in science, technology, engineering, and math, perhaps they will look back at female science writers of the past and evaluate how their strategies might be adapted for a 21st-century audience.

Although there are more questions to be explored in terms of why these women made the choices they did to enter into male-dominated scientific fields and why there aren’t more of them, their work provided a bridge from the Victorian Era into the Modern Era, opening new doors for countless women in the future.

Footnotes:

  1. Bernard Lightman, “The Story of Nature: Victorian Popularizers and Scientific Narrative,” Victorian Review 25, no. 2 (Winter 2000). ↩︎
  2. Heidi Reeder, Patricia A. Pyke, Lynn Lubamersky, Seung Youn Chyung, and Cheryl B. Schrader, “Perceptions About Women in Science and Engineering History,” Boise State University ScholarWorks (June 2012): 7-9. ↩︎
  3. Barbara Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood: 1820-1860,” American Quarterly 18, no. 2 (1966): 152. ↩︎
  4. Anthony Martinez and Cheridan Christnacht, “Women Are Nearly Half of U.S. Workforce but Only 27% of STEM Workers,” United States Census Bureau, January 6, 2021, https://www.census.gov/library/stories/2021/01/women-making-gains-in-stem-occupations-but-still-underrepresented.html. ↩︎
  5. McClellan and Dorn, Science and Technology, 279-295. ↩︎
  6. McClellan and Dorn, Science and Technology, 279-295. ↩︎
  7. McClellan and Dorn, Science and Technology, 310. ↩︎
  8. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 1-2. ↩︎
  9. Laura Forsberg, “Nature’s Invisibilia: The Victorian Microscope and the Miniature Fairy,” Victorian Studies 57, no. 4 (Summer 2015): 639. ↩︎
  10. Melanie Keene, Science in Wonderland: The scientific fairy tales of Victorian Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). ↩︎
  11. Forsberg, “Nature’s Invisibilia,” 642. ↩︎
  12. Forsberg, “Nature’s Invisibilia,” 640. ↩︎
  13. Forsberg, “Nature’s Invisibilia,” 650. and Lightman, “The Story of Nature.” ↩︎
  14. Forsberg, “Nature’s Invisibilia,” 658. ↩︎
  15. Samuel J M M Alberti, “Conversaziones and the Experience of Science in Victorian England,” Journal of Victorian Culture 8, no. 2 (January 2003). ↩︎
  16. Alberti, “Conversaziones,” 209. ↩︎
  17. Alberti, “Conversaziones,” 211. ↩︎
  18. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 3. ↩︎
  19. Alberti, “Conversaziones,” 217. ↩︎
  20. Keene, Science in Wonderland, 13. ↩︎
  21. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 1. ↩︎
  22. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 5. ↩︎
  23. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 14. ↩︎
  24. Lightman, “The Story of Nature,” 14. ↩︎
  25. Nancy Woloch, Women and the American Experience (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2011), 116-120. ↩︎
  26. Sara M. Evans, Born for Liberty: A History of Women in America (New York: Free Press Paperback, 1989), 127. ↩︎
  27. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 116-120. ↩︎
  28. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 118. ↩︎
  29. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 120. ↩︎
  30. Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 174. ↩︎
  31. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 124-125. ↩︎
  32. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 125-126. ↩︎
  33. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 124-125. and Evans, Born for Liberty, 138-139. ↩︎
  34. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 275. ↩︎
  35. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 281. ↩︎
  36. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 126-128. ↩︎
  37. Suzanne Stauffer, “The Band of American Ladies: Children’s Librarians and the Creation of Children’s Literature in the Long Nineteenth Century,” Nineteenth-Century Gender Studies 18, no. 2 (Summer 2022). ↩︎
  38. Stauffer, “The Band of American Ladies.” ↩︎
  39. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 266-267. ↩︎
  40. Evans, Born for Liberty, 154. ↩︎
  41. Woloch, Women and the American Experience, 129. ↩︎
  42. Nina Baym, “Between Enlightenment and Victorian: Toward a Narrative of American Women Writers Writing History,” Critical Inquiry 18, no. 1 (Autumn 1991). ↩︎
  43. Baym, “Between Enlightenment and Victorian,” 23-24. ↩︎
  44. Baym, “Between Enlightenment and Victorian,” 26. ↩︎
  45. Baym, “Between Enlightenment and Victorian,” 29. ↩︎
  46. Baym, “Between Enlightenment and Victorian,” 36. ↩︎
  47. Kimberly Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s (1786-1858) Scientific Writings: Nineteenth-Century Canadian Periodicals in Transatlantic Print Culture,” Nineteenth-Century Gender Studies 18, no. 2 (Summer 2022). ↩︎
  48. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  49. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  50. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  51. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  52. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  53. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s Scientific Writings.” ↩︎
  54. Tusan, “Inventing the New Woman,” 170. ↩︎
  55. Tusan, “Inventing the New Woman,” 173 & 176. ↩︎
  56. A. R. Cunningham, “The ‘New Woman Fiction’ of the 1890’s,” Victorian Studies 17, no. 2 (December 1973): 179. ↩︎
  57. Cunningham, “‘New Woman Fiction,’” 182 & 185. and Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 152-154. ↩︎
  58. Arabella Buckley, The Fairy-Land of Science, London: Edward Stanford, 1883. and Arabella Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science and of the Progress of Discovery from the Time of the Greeks to the Present Day, London: Edward Stanford, 1894. ↩︎
  59. Jordan Larsen, “Arabella Buckley’s Epic: Uniting Evolutionary Epic & Spiritualism to Account for the Evolution of Morals from Mutualism,” 2016, https://shareok.org/bitstream/handle/11244.46/92/4-THURJ-2016-Jordan-Larsen.pdf?sequence=1. ↩︎
  60. Larsen, “Arabella Buckley’s Epic,” 56-57. ↩︎
  61. Larsen, “Arabella Buckley’s Epic,” 57. ↩︎
  62. Larsen, “Arabella Buckley’s Epic,” 57. ↩︎
  63. Lucy Rider Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry: Explorations in the World of Atoms, Boston: Lothrop Publishing Company, 1887. ↩︎
  64. John G. McEllhenney, “The ‘Archbishop of Deaconesses’ Who Took On The Fundamentalists 1849-1922,” Boston University School of Theology, posted March 2020, https://www.bu.edu/missiology/2020/03/22/meyer-lucy-rider-1849-1922/#:~:text=Lucy%20Meyer’s%20second%20encounter%20with,helped%20to%20make%20them%20welcome. ↩︎
  65. McEllheney, “The ‘Archbishop of Deaconesses.’” ↩︎
  66. McEllheney, “The ‘Archbishop of Deaconesses.’” ↩︎
  67. McEllheney, “The ‘Archbishop of Deaconesses.’” ↩︎
  68. Lily Martyn, Princess & Fairy, or, The Wonders of Nature, London: W. & R. Chambers Ltd, 1899. ↩︎
  69. Agnes Giberne, Among the Stars or Wonderful Things in the Sky, New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 1915. ↩︎
  70. Alice C. Linsley, “Agnes Giberne: A Lover of Science,” The American Scientific Affiliation, 2016, accessed April 1, 2024, https://network.asa3.org/blogpost/999882/263894/Agnes-Giberne-A-Lover-of-Science. ↩︎
  71. Linsley, “Agnes Giberne.” ↩︎
  72. Linsley, “Agnes Giberne.” ↩︎
  73. Linsley, “Agnes Giberne.” ↩︎
  74. F. M. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders: The Story of the Application of Chemistry to Various Arts and Manufactures, London: S. W. Partridge & Co, 1896. ↩︎
  75. John Henry Pepper, The Playbook of Metals, London: Routledge, Warne, and Routledge, 1862. ↩︎
  76. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals. ↩︎
  77. J. Dorman Steele and J. W. P. Jenks, Popular Zoology, New York: Chautauqua Press, 1887. ↩︎
  78. John H. Lienhard, “No. 1623: Joel Dorman and Esther Steele,” The Engines of Our Ingenuity, University of Houston, accessed April 1, 2024, https://engines.egr.uh.edu/episode/1623. ↩︎
  79. Lienhard, “No. 1623: Joel Dorman and Esther Steele.” ↩︎
  80. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology. ↩︎
  81. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology, vi. ↩︎
  82. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry. ↩︎
  83. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry. ↩︎
  84.  Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science. ↩︎
  85. Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science, 237. ↩︎
  86. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science. Note: Though technically Buckley had published other works, she recognizes this work as her “first book” in the dedication. This is likely because her other works were composed of lectures she had given and other smaller pieces. ↩︎
  87. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science, vi. ↩︎
  88. Agnes Giberne, Among the Stars. ↩︎
  89. Giberne, Among the Stars. ↩︎
  90. Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 152-154. ↩︎
  91. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 14. ↩︎
  92. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 15-16. ↩︎
  93. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders. ↩︎
  94. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders, 5-6. ↩︎
  95. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders, 6. ↩︎
  96. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology. ↩︎
  97. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology. ↩︎
  98. Camille Hankel, Kaitlyn Loftus, Hannah Nesser, and Johnathan Proctor, “Louis Agassiz,” Harvard University, accessed April 1, 2024, https://eps.harvard.edu/louis-agassiz. ↩︎
  99. Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood.” ↩︎
  100. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry. and Edward L. Tucker, “Two Young Brothers and Their ‘Orion.’” The Southern Literary Journal 11, no. 1 (1978): 64–80. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20077607. ↩︎
  101. Glassman, “Harriet Sheppard’s,” 12. ↩︎
  102. Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science, v-vi. ↩︎
  103.  Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science, v-vi. ↩︎
  104. Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science, v-vi. ↩︎
  105. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science, vii-ix. ↩︎
  106. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science, vi-ix. ↩︎
  107. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science, vii-ix. ↩︎
  108. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science, vii-ix. ↩︎
  109. Giberne, Among the Stars. ↩︎
  110. Giberne, Among the Stars. ↩︎
  111. Giberne, Among the Stars. Note: Giberne mentions Sun, Moon, and Stars in her Preface, stating that this Among the Stars is “much easier than” the former. ↩︎
  112. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals. and John Henry Pepper, The History of Ghosts and All About Metempsychosis (London: Cassell & Company, Limited, 1890). ↩︎
  113. Pepper, The History of Ghosts. ↩︎
  114. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals, 2. ↩︎
  115. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 44. ↩︎
  116. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 44. ↩︎
  117. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 93. ↩︎
  118. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 97. ↩︎
  119. Martyn, Princess & Fairy, 99. ↩︎
  120. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry, 15. ↩︎
  121. Giberne, Among the Stars, 7. ↩︎
  122. Giberne, Among the Stars, 17. ↩︎
  123. Giberne, Among the Stars, 8. ↩︎
  124. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry, 15-21. ↩︎
  125. Welter, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 162. ↩︎
  126. Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry, 15. ↩︎
  127. Buckley, A Short History of Natural Science. and Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders. ↩︎
  128. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders. ↩︎
  129. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals. and Stauffer, “The Band of American Ladies.” ↩︎
  130. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals, 2. ↩︎
  131. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology, vi. ↩︎
  132. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology, vii. ↩︎
  133. Steele and Jenks, Popular Zoology, vii-viii. ↩︎
  134. Holmes, Chemists and Their Wonders. and Meyer, Fairy Land of Chemistry. and Buckley, The Fairy-Land of Science. ↩︎
  135. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals, 4. ↩︎
  136. Martyn, Princess and Fairy. ↩︎
  137. Buckley, Fairy-Land of Science. and Martyn, Princess and Fairy. ↩︎
  138. Pepper, The Playbook of Metals. ↩︎

Bibliography

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