Accordingly Gribbin gives us an Aubrey-like Brief Lives of a number of the savants and enthusiasts who were involved in

Accordingly Gribbin gives us an Aubrey-like Brief Lives of a number of the savants and enthusiasts who were involved in the founding of the Royal Society, some of them enthusiasts of science whose contributions did not consist in actual discoveries but in subventions of funds and influence at Court. Gribbin devotes most attention to these three, providing short biographies of each with a sketch of their scientific achievements, in his highly readable trademark style.But of course neither the heralds of the revolution - Gilbert, Bacon, Galileo and Harvey - nor the giants of the early Royal Society just named, operated in a vacuum. The method of true scientific enquiry, observation and experiment, had begun to be applied in the preceding century, and it had a great exponent in William Gilbert (1544-1603) who discovered why compass needles always align north-south, a great advocate in Francis Bacon (1561-1626), whose writings about scientific method were quoted as the inspiration for the Royal Society by its founders, and great exemplars in Galileo Galilei (1564-1642), the first all-round scientist and mathematician of the modern era, and William Harvey (1578-1657), discoverer of the circulation of the blood.The flowering of the influence and example of these men came in the generation after their time, in the astonishing decades following the Royal Society's founding. It resides principally in the work of three scientists of giant stature: Isaac Newton, Robert Hooke and Edmond Halley.

Here he tells the story again in a different way: by describing the lives of the men (they were all men, a fact familiarly to be explained by historical sexism, not brain physiology) who made that revolution happen - and principally, the men who variously inspired, founded and were early Fellows of the Royal Society. Science did not come into existence when the Royal Society was given its charter by Charles II in the first flush of the Restoration. But the greatest of these revolutions was the one that occurred in science. Its story has often and well been told to general readerships before, not least by John Gribbin, whose lucid pen and narrative skill make him a leader in the field of popular science writing. Their collective effect was to topple a set of mutually supportive reactionary hegemonies: the Church, absolute monarchy, the dead hand of Aristotelian science, and the ignorance and backward-lookingness they jointly promoted. It's hard to believe therefore, as Weir does, Isabella's protestations that she was "in great trouble of heart" over Edward's death. Isabella was an ace dissembler and clearly no sheep in wolf's clothing..

That was her defining role and determined her behaviour far more than personal sensibilities. There were several major revolutions in the course of the 16th and 17th centuries in Europe, all of them profoundly significant for the course of subsequent world history. Did Isabella give birth to Mortimer's illegitimate children? If Edward wasn't killed, who was buried in his place? But Weir wants to render a "realistic portrait" and when a biographer can only speculate on her subject's thoughts it's a tough call.Isabella was raised to be a mother of kings. She details an escape route which sounds as complicated as it does implausible.

It would mean, according to Weir, that Isabella has been wrongly condemned for a crime that never was.This meticulous no-nonsense biography presents a fascinating story complete with puzzles. Weir argues that Isabella knew nothing of the regicidal plot and questions whether Edward died, as every schoolboy knows, from having a red-hot poker thrust up his anus. Edward's lover was savagely punished for sodomy, so why not the king?Throwing the blame still further from Isabella, Weir favours the conspiracy theory that Edward wasn't murdered at all and finished life as a hermit in Italy. The detested Despenser experienced the standard traitor's death - but not before being castrated publicly. Since Isabella was present and castration wasn't a common punishment, it's fair to assume there was some sexual triumphing going on. When she did return she was leading a successful invasion.While Weir finds "much to like" about Isabella, readers may part company with her. Edward foolishly sent her across the Channel, along with his heir, to mediate.