The emergence in Nature of authors of serious scientific standing who had not been connected with the launch of the journal indicated that the magazine had by now established itself as a favoured repository for scientific information — although there were still many other popular outlets. Regular accounts of scientific discovery were yet to be fully realized, and many communications retained a congenial air appropriate to the incredible variety of material on offer in each issue — for example, 'The influence of a tuning fork on the garden spider'. Karl Pearson, who applied statistical analysis to biology, wrote on colour and sound, Alexander Graham Bell wrote on the accents of deaf-mutes who had been taught to speak, and motion-capture photograph pioneer Edward Muybridge (his work is pictured), who lamented the 'dead heat' in horse racing, asked why officials would not "avail themselves of the same resources of science" and employ up to twenty cameras to decide the rightful outcome of races.
Science and politics
Nature editorials in the 1880s expanded on the strongly political topics of the 1870s and were directed to the politicians of the day with increasing conviction. Perhaps emboldened by the 1880 Education Act, which made school attendance compulsory for all children up to the age of ten, Nature appealed to the new British home secretary, Sir William Harcourt, to make the teaching of science a priority in schools now that education itself was compulsory: "Those that have the true welfare of our country at heart will use every means to get education in science introduced to our schools and colleges...so that in future years rulers and people will be guided...by the principles of scientific statesmanship." Other editorials urged a scientific approach upon management of the state. The image shows the contents page for Education and National Progress, penned by Lockyer for Macmillan, courtesy archives of Macmillan Publishers.
Fingerprints and crime
The short Letter of Oct 28 by Henry Faulds entitled 'On the Skin-furrows of the Hand' was perhaps one of the earliest significant and original contributions to science published in Nature. "When bloody finger-marks or impressions on clay, glass &c., exist, they may lead to the scientific identification of criminals." Fingerprints (pictured) were first described in 1823, but Faulds was the first to detail how "skin-furrows" could be used in identification, ethnography, studies of heredity and in medical–legal investigations — essentially sketching out the basis of what was to become forensic science. Just a month later, Sir William Hershel (grandson of the discoverer of Uranus) submitted a Letter to Nature claiming prior use of the identification technique in India: "I have been making sign-manuals by means of finger-marks for now more than twenty years".
Argument raged between the two and with Francis Galton but Faulds's letter clearly documents the advantages of having "a nature-copy of the for-ever-unchangeable finger-furrows of important criminals". See 'Historic works on fingerprints' for more.
1881
Norman Lockyer — star of science
The 1880s were a time of career milestones for Lockyer. Following his 1877 appointment as chairman of the Solar Physics Observatory in South Kensington, a post that awarded him £500 in research expenses, Lockyer was made a Professor of Astronomical Physics at the reorganized Normal School of Science (later to become the Royal College of Science, then part of Imperial College and awarded a salary of £750 per year in 1881. Friendships bloomed with notable figures from outside science, including with the poet laureate Alfred Lord Tennyson during the 1870s and 1880s. Tennyson, who was particularly interested in astronomy, later wrote a note (circa1890; pictured) to Lockyer: "...in my anthropological spectrum, you are coloured like a first rate star of science", and Lockyer eventually wrote a book called 'Tennyson as a Poet and Student of Nature' in 1910 (available in full online). Image courtesy of University of Exeter Academic Services, Special Collections
Telephotography: An early fax machine
Shelford Bidwell was a self-taught physicist who had been experimenting with Alexander Graham Bell's photophone, which was like a telephone but relied on light, rather than electricity, to carry the signal. "While experimenting with the photophone, it occurred to me that...it might be applied in the construction of an instrument for the electrical transmission of pictures of natural objects". Bidwell's telephotography (a schematic from Nature is pictured) 'scanned' an image by using a rotating cylinder with a small hole, so that properties of the image were recorded by the resistance of light-receiving selenium photocells and then carried by a platinum wire to photosensitive paper. In his Nature article "Tele-Photography", Bidwell acknowledges the crudeness of the resulting images while understating the potential of the technique: "although the pictures...are of very rudimentary character...if it were worth while to go to further expense and trouble in elaborating the apparatus, excellent results might be obtained".
1883
Krakatau: an international appeal
Early Nature carried a strong international flavour and covered science from around the globe. Following the cataclysmic eruption of the volcano Krakatau (Krakatoa; pictured) on 26–27 August, Nature appealed to its worldwide audience to send observations that would be forwarded to the Royal Society Krakatoa Committee: "We give this week a further instalment of notices of the strange coloured effects recently observed in the skies, and our readers in all parts of the world will render a service if they will communicate any similar facts." Reports foretelling an imminent eruption were published from 7 June, and just three days after the main eruption the Notes section warned, "It was impossible to communicate with Anjer [in Indonesia], and it is feared some calamity has happened there...spoken of in the telegrams as a "tidal wave", but it is evidently more of the nature of an earthquake wave [tsunami]". Reports of atmospheric and meteorological phenomena were published by the Royal Society as
The eruption of Krakatoa and subsequent phenomena (1888).
Lockyer's opponents, and a writ
As Lockyer's researches intensified, he published notes in Nature and books such as Astronomy (1877) and The Chemistry of the Sun (1887), many of which were published by Macmillan. But other men of science did not always agree with his theories, and when they sent their views to Nature the Editor found himself in a difficult position: whether or not to print evidence that contradicted his own (world) view. Many chemists, in particular Huggins in 1883, disagreed with Lockyer's Dissociation Hypothesis which postulated on the basis of stellar spectra that elements in the Sun's chromosphere (corona) could transmute into other less complex elements as the temperature increased — just as elements would in the flame of a laboratory Bunsen burner. But Lockyer was resigned to the inevitable: "I am practically bound to print all attacks on my work....but I don't propose to print my reply". Perhaps a prudent move, as the image shows at least one writ was served against Nature (through Macmillan) in 1888 by a party entirely dissatisfied with an unfavourable book review. The outcome is not known. Image from archives of Macmillan Publishers.
1887
Nature hails science as a profession
For most of the nineteenth century, there was very little in the way of a career structure in science in Britain. There were few universities, and therefore few professional posts to fill, and scholars concentrated on classic subjects, such as ancient Greek, rather than science. But by the late 1880s, enough had changed for Nature to proclaim that the scientific movement had at last been truly born, thanks to the part played by great scientific educators of the day such as John Tyndall (pictured). The leading article by Rücken celebrating his achievements declared: "...it has been no easy task to convince them [the English people] that a new era - that of science - was dawning... that our industrial position can only be maintained if armies of well-equipped followers are ready to seize the ground which the leaders won". Although the term was not widely used for decades, at last "the man of science" had become "the scientist".
1888
Journal structure
Nature changed very little between the first issue and the 1880s, apart from a trend for leading articles to be expanded book reviews and the addition of three new regular sections to the back of the magazine — Our Astronomical Column, Geographical Notes and Physical Notes. The rest of the journal was very much as it had been in the 1870s: leaders were followed by a couple of 2–3-page articles and the Our Book Shelf section of short book reviews. Four to eight Letters to the Editor constituted up-to-date scientific correspondence on new discoveries, after which another three or four articles would appear, at least one of which would be illustrated. The news-like Notes section of minor obituaries, events and announcements would break up another four or so articles. At the very end, Scientific Serials would bring news from other journals, often foreign ones, and Societies and Academies contained news from learned bodies. The image shows a Nature Post Office registration document from 1880 from the archives of Macmillan Publishers.
1889
Twenty years: Nature's first celebrated anniversary
On its first significant anniversary Nature's leader attributed its success to the army of contributors and rendered "grateful thanks to those whom it is chiefly due that Nature has a recognized place in the machinery of science, and has secured a place in all parts of the civilised world." Nature also congratulated the British government for increasing state endowment for science, but saved the highest praise for educational reform: "This year has seen the State recognition of the necessity of a secondary and essentially scientific system of education, and the technical instruction act marks an era in the scientific annals of the nation." One reason for Nature's survival is perhaps hinted at as progression of science per se: "We accept the success of Nature in no spirit of congratulation, but as a straw by which the speed of the current can be gauged." Image shows a generic Nature montage from the archives of Macmillan Publishers.
The emergence in Nature of authors of serious scientific standing who had not been connected with the launch of the journal indicated that the magazine had by now established itself as a favoured repository for scientific information — although there were still many other popular outlets. Regular accounts of scientific discovery were yet to be fully realized, and many communications retained a congenial air appropriate to the incredible variety of material on offer in each issue — for example, 'The influence of a tuning fork on the garden spider'. Karl Pearson, who applied statistical analysis to biology, wrote on colour and sound, Alexander Graham Bell wrote on the accents of deaf-mutes who had been taught to speak, and motion-capture photograph pioneer Edward Muybridge (his work is pictured), who lamented the 'dead heat' in horse racing, asked why officials would not "avail themselves of the same resources of science" and employ up to twenty cameras to decide the rightful outcome of races. 
Nature editorials in the 1880s expanded on the strongly political topics of the 1870s and were directed to the politicians of the day with increasing conviction. Perhaps emboldened by the 1880 Education Act, which made school attendance compulsory for all children up to the age of ten, Nature appealed to the new British home secretary, Sir William Harcourt, to make the teaching of science a priority in schools now that education itself was compulsory: "Those that have the true welfare of our country at heart will use every means to get education in science introduced to our schools and colleges...so that in future years rulers and people will be guided...by the principles of scientific statesmanship." Other editorials urged a scientific approach upon management of the state. The image shows the contents page for Education and National Progress, penned by Lockyer for Macmillan, courtesy archives of Macmillan Publishers.
The short Letter of Oct 28 by Henry Faulds entitled 'On the Skin-furrows of the Hand' was perhaps one of the earliest significant and original contributions to science published in Nature. "When bloody finger-marks or impressions on clay, glass &c., exist, they may lead to the scientific identification of criminals." Fingerprints (pictured) were first described in 1823, but Faulds was the first to detail how "skin-furrows" could be used in identification, ethnography, studies of heredity and in medical–legal investigations — essentially sketching out the basis of what was to become forensic science. Just a month later, Sir William Hershel (grandson of the discoverer of Uranus) submitted a Letter to Nature claiming prior use of the identification technique in India: "I have been making sign-manuals by means of finger-marks for now more than twenty years".
Argument raged between the two and with Francis Galton but Faulds's letter clearly documents the advantages of having "a nature-copy of the for-ever-unchangeable finger-furrows of important criminals". See 'Historic works on fingerprints' for more. 
The 1880s were a time of career milestones for Lockyer. Following his 1877 appointment as chairman of the Solar Physics Observatory in South Kensington, a post that awarded him £500 in research expenses, Lockyer was made a Professor of Astronomical Physics at the reorganized Normal School of Science (later to become the Royal College of Science, then part of Imperial College and awarded a salary of £750 per year in 1881. Friendships bloomed with notable figures from outside science, including with the poet laureate Alfred Lord Tennyson during the 1870s and 1880s. Tennyson, who was particularly interested in astronomy, later wrote a note (circa1890; pictured) to Lockyer: "...in my anthropological spectrum, you are coloured like a first rate star of science", and Lockyer eventually wrote a book called 'Tennyson as a Poet and Student of Nature' in 1910 (available in full online). Image courtesy of University of Exeter Academic Services, Special Collections
Shelford Bidwell was a self-taught physicist who had been experimenting with Alexander Graham Bell's photophone, which was like a telephone but relied on light, rather than electricity, to carry the signal. "While experimenting with the photophone, it occurred to me that...it might be applied in the construction of an instrument for the electrical transmission of pictures of natural objects". Bidwell's telephotography (a schematic from Nature is pictured) 'scanned' an image by using a rotating cylinder with a small hole, so that properties of the image were recorded by the resistance of light-receiving selenium photocells and then carried by a platinum wire to photosensitive paper. In his Nature article "Tele-Photography", Bidwell acknowledges the crudeness of the resulting images while understating the potential of the technique: "although the pictures...are of very rudimentary character...if it were worth while to go to further expense and trouble in elaborating the apparatus, excellent results might be obtained". 
Early Nature carried a strong international flavour and covered science from around the globe. Following the cataclysmic eruption of the volcano Krakatau (Krakatoa; pictured) on 26–27 August, Nature appealed to its worldwide audience to send observations that would be forwarded to the Royal Society Krakatoa Committee: "We give this week a further instalment of notices of the strange coloured effects recently observed in the skies, and our readers in all parts of the world will render a service if they will communicate any similar facts." Reports foretelling an imminent eruption were published from 7 June, and just three days after the main eruption the Notes section warned, "It was impossible to communicate with Anjer [in Indonesia], and it is feared some calamity has happened there...spoken of in the telegrams as a "tidal wave", but it is evidently more of the nature of an earthquake wave [tsunami]". Reports of atmospheric and meteorological phenomena were published by the Royal Society as
The eruption of Krakatoa and subsequent phenomena (1888).
As Lockyer's researches intensified, he published notes in Nature and books such as Astronomy (1877) and The Chemistry of the Sun (1887), many of which were published by Macmillan. But other men of science did not always agree with his theories, and when they sent their views to Nature the Editor found himself in a difficult position: whether or not to print evidence that contradicted his own (world) view. Many chemists, in particular Huggins in 1883, disagreed with Lockyer's Dissociation Hypothesis which postulated on the basis of stellar spectra that elements in the Sun's chromosphere (corona) could transmute into other less complex elements as the temperature increased — just as elements would in the flame of a laboratory Bunsen burner. But Lockyer was resigned to the inevitable: "I am practically bound to print all attacks on my work....but I don't propose to print my reply". Perhaps a prudent move, as the image shows at least one writ was served against Nature (through Macmillan) in 1888 by a party entirely dissatisfied with an unfavourable book review. The outcome is not known. Image from archives of Macmillan Publishers.
For most of the nineteenth century, there was very little in the way of a career structure in science in Britain. There were few universities, and therefore few professional posts to fill, and scholars concentrated on classic subjects, such as ancient Greek, rather than science. But by the late 1880s, enough had changed for Nature to proclaim that the scientific movement had at last been truly born, thanks to the part played by great scientific educators of the day such as John Tyndall (pictured). The leading article by Rücken celebrating his achievements declared: "...it has been no easy task to convince them [the English people] that a new era - that of science - was dawning... that our industrial position can only be maintained if armies of well-equipped followers are ready to seize the ground which the leaders won". Although the term was not widely used for decades, at last "the man of science" had become "the scientist". 
Nature changed very little between the first issue and the 1880s, apart from a trend for leading articles to be expanded book reviews and the addition of three new regular sections to the back of the magazine — Our Astronomical Column, Geographical Notes and Physical Notes. The rest of the journal was very much as it had been in the 1870s: leaders were followed by a couple of 2–3-page articles and the Our Book Shelf section of short book reviews. Four to eight Letters to the Editor constituted up-to-date scientific correspondence on new discoveries, after which another three or four articles would appear, at least one of which would be illustrated. The news-like Notes section of minor obituaries, events and announcements would break up another four or so articles. At the very end, Scientific Serials would bring news from other journals, often foreign ones, and Societies and Academies contained news from learned bodies. The image shows a Nature Post Office registration document from 1880 from the archives of Macmillan Publishers.
On its first significant anniversary Nature's leader attributed its success to the army of contributors and rendered "grateful thanks to those whom it is chiefly due that Nature has a recognized place in the machinery of science, and has secured a place in all parts of the civilised world." Nature also congratulated the British government for increasing state endowment for science, but saved the highest praise for educational reform: "This year has seen the State recognition of the necessity of a secondary and essentially scientific system of education, and the technical instruction act marks an era in the scientific annals of the nation." One reason for Nature's survival is perhaps hinted at as progression of science per se: "We accept the success of Nature in no spirit of congratulation, but as a straw by which the speed of the current can be gauged." Image shows a generic Nature montage from the archives of Macmillan Publishers.
