Recording the Aloes at Chelsea - a singular solution to a difficult problem

In the Royal Society archives there is a collection of drawings of Aloes and other plants, made by two of the great botanical artists of the eighteenth century - Georg Dionysius Ehret and Jacob van Huysum. Although the Manuscripts General Series Catalogue records this manuscript only as a ‘Volume of 35 botanical paintings by Georg Dionysius Ehret’ of unknown provenance, the manuscript catalogue of the Arundel and other manuscripts, said to be the work of Jonas Dryander (1748-1810), provides the first clue linking these drawings to the two artists, and to the important collection of Aloes growing at that time in the Society of Apothecaries Physic Garden at Chelsea'. The history of the commissioning of the drawings is told briefly in the Journal Books of the Royal Society, and in the Minutes of Council, but the significance of these lovely and important drawings has been almost completely overlooked.

2020 ◽  
pp. 096777202094273
Author(s):  
Michael T Tracy

The Royal Society of Edinburgh (RSE) is Scotland’s national academy of science and letters and has been in existence since the eighteenth century. On 23 November 1868, a general meeting was held by the RSE at which members nominated the German academic, Professor Rudolf Virchow, as an Honorary Fellow in recognition of his key contributions to cellular theory. This nomination was opposed by the Reverend Joseph Taylor Goodsir, brother of the late Professor of Anatomy at Edinburgh University, John Goodsir. Reverend Goodsir went on to accuse the German professor of plagiarising his late brother’s pioneering work in the formulation of cell theory. The resultant furore created by the Reverend Goodsir led to an acrimonious scientific dispute in the Edinburgh medical establishment, then one of the leading centres of medical education. The current work describes the history of cellular theory as it pertains to John Goodsir and Rudolf Virchow, discusses the history behind the scientific dispute and interprets Reverend Joseph Taylor Goodsir’s role relating his actions to his continuing battle with mental illness, and the aftermath of the dispute as it affected the reputation of John Goodsir.


Among the Blagden papers recently acquired by the Royal Society is a considerable portion of the diary of Sir Charles Blagden himself, closely written in difficult handwriting from edge to edge of the paper on hundreds of small sheets. The complete decipherment and transcription of this diary may take a long time, if it is ever done. But it was thought that the Fellows and those engaged in the history of science at the close of the eighteenth century might be interested in a sample of the diary of this man, Secretary of the Royal Society from 1784 to 1797, who was closely associated with many of the persons and events which made those days memorable in the history of science. Even before his appointment to the Secretaryship of the Royal Society, when he was acting as Secretary to Henry Cavendish, it was he who informed Lavoisier in June 1783 that Cavendish had burned inflammable air and obtained water. On this information Lavoisier repeated the experiment and solved the problem of the composition of water.


In 1754 John Ellis was elected to the Royal Society. During the next twenty two years, he won the Copley Prize in 1768, was elected to the Council in 1769, and published over thirty essays and monographs on natural history. In doing this Ellis laid the foundation of one area of zoology with his studies of zoophytes; published on the preservation of seeds and the natural history of coffee; and reported on new plants and insects. Furthermore his papers, containing correspondence with well over one hundred different people, provide a clearer picture o f the interrelationships which operated in the warp and woof of eighteenth century English and colonial science. Ellis was also a merchant in the Irish linen trade; a lobbyest at Westminster for the Irish Linen Board; the Royal Agent for West Florida, and the Colonial Agent for Dominica.


Author(s):  
Anton Howes

From its beginnings in a coffee house in the mid-eighteenth century, the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce has tried to improve British life in every way imaginable. It has sought to influence how Britons work, how they are educated, the music they listen to, the food they eat, the items in their homes, and even how they remember their own history. This book is the remarkable story of an institution unlike any other—a society for the improvement of everything and anything. The book shows how this vibrant and singularly ambitious organisation has evolved and adapted, constantly having to reinvent itself to keep in step with changing times. The Society has served as a platform for Victorian utilitarian reformers, purchased and restored an entire village, encouraged the planting of more than sixty million trees, and sought technological alternatives to child labour. But this is more than just a story about unusual public initiatives. It is an engaging and authoritative history of almost three centuries of social reform and competing visions of a better world-the Society's members have been drawn from across the political spectrum, including Adam Smith, Edmund Burke, and Karl Marx. The book reveals how a society of public-spirited individuals tried to make their country a better place, and draws vital lessons from their triumphs and failures for all would-be reformers today.


Students of the history of science are well aware how rapidly ideas were exchanged, remembering the available means of communication, during the years immediately preceding and following the foundation of the Royal Society. This is very evident in regard to meteorological observation and measurement. Robert Hooke’s daily readings of temperature and rainfall in 1664 are well known and he, with Locke soon afterwards, was quick to stress the need for comparable observations in different places. Accordingly, we in England possess some remarkably early series of records ; of temperature, for example, at Wrentham in Suffolk (1673-1674), and, of course, Towneley’s well-known rainfall record near Burnley (1677-1704). Gadbury kept a very useful diary in London (1669-1689) and while his instrumental observations were few, there is a consistency about his daily recording which accords well with the spirit of the age and that consciousness of time which became so evident not only in the social diarists but among the craftsmen such as Tompion with his clocks. Zeal with regard to maintenance of consistent daily observations has always been very variable. For example, in 1694, Ralph Thoresby, F.R.S., while on one of his journeys visited Towneley and much admired his work ; but in his diary he enters that he ‘ had a mind to do likewise, but bethought myself of the tediousness of it ’. Thomas Short of Sheffield in 1749 also commented on the many who began a record but were prone to let it lapse. Prolonged maintenance of daily observations demands an odd and uncommon type of enthusiasm which at intervals has been roused into activity. Perusal of our older records leads one to think that the initial impetus died down about 1710 ; for no English instrumental records of a continuous kind survive, as far as we know, for the period 1716-1722.


NO detailed account of the history of the extraction and refining of platinum during the eighteenth century need be given here; McDonald has provided a general history of platinum covering the period from earliest times to the 1880’s (1), and a recent paper by Trengove treats in some detail the chemical work on platinum during the eighteenth century (2). Nevertheless, it may be of interest to mention briefly the part played by certain Fellows of the Royal Society in making platinum known to the scientific world, and in carrying out experiments to investigate the properties of the then new metal.


Author(s):  
P. J. P. WHITEHEAD

The authorship of the anonymous Conchology, or natural history of shells has often been disputed, as has also the correct dating of the parts of this incomplete book. Some have attributed this work — the first in which the term "conchology" was employed — to the wellknown natural history dealer George Humphrey (? 1745—1825), who indeed seems to have claimed authorship in his Museum Humfredianum of 1779. Others have favoured Emanuel Mendes da Costa (1717—91), author of books on shells as well as fossils and minerals. Others again have settled for joint authorship. However, in the absence of detailed biographical data on either of these two men, the question of authorship of the Conchology has been largely a matter of speculation. The key to the puzzle lies in the rather unusual circumstances that attended the production of the book, for it was during this period that da Costa fell from grace, being convicted of embezzlement and spending some years in prison. No-one has hitherto documented this aspect of da Costa's life, while the most valuable source of all, the eleven volumes of da Costa correspondence in the British Library, has been almost entirely neglected. In the light of these letters, a number of which date from the prison period, together with clues in other letters, it is now possible to date the six parts of the book fairly accurately, and also to assess Humphrey's role in it and to conclude that the real author was da Costa, an unrepentent debtor in the King's Bench Prison. Da Costa's downfall, which can be followed closely in the minutes of the Council of the Royal Society for 1767—68, provides the reason why the Conchology was anonymous, and in turn this serves to narrow down the dates within which it was written. Anonymity was essential, for no collector would allow precious specimens to be borrowed for illustration in the name of a man who had embezzled the funds of the Royal Society to the tune of nearly fifteen hundred pounds (by pocketing subscriptions). Various guesses have been made concerning the duration of da Costa's term in prison, but in fact he was committed to the King's Bench Prison in November 1768 and was not released until four years later, in October 1772. During this time he made translations, worked on catalogues and delivered lectures. The letters written and received in prison show that the Conchology was well under way by early in 1771, although it was probably planned at least a year before and may perhaps have stemmed from a more ambitious project covering several animal groups, dating from late in 1767. The true authorship of the Conchology can be deduced partly from the prison letters and partly from a letter written years later to John Swainson, in which Humphrey criticizes da Costa's text for several of the figures. Humphrey's role seems to have been that of editor. The book was illustrated by John Wicksteed (pls. 1–4,), George Humphrey's brother William (pls. 5, 7) and Peter Brown (pls. 8–12), but the text breaks off in the middle of pl. 5. There were six parts, each with two plates, and from the letters and from two dated wrappers with a copy in the British Museum (Natural History), the parts appear to have been issued at two month intervals between December 1770 and October 1771. The abrupt cessation of the work cannot yet be accounted for. The Conchology is not without taxonomic value, some of the plates illustrating type specimens. However, the history of its production throws important light on da Costa, who was a highly significant — if wayward — figure in eighteenth century natural history, and a man who well deserves a more extensive and detailed biography. Subsequently to the Easter Meeting this study has been reported in the following publication: Whitehead, P. J. P. 1977. Emanuel Mendes da Costa (1717–91) and the Conchology, or natural history of shells. Bull. Br. Mus. nat. Hist. (hist. Ser.), 6 (1): 1–24.


2020 ◽  
Vol 3 (1) ◽  
pp. 112-136
Author(s):  
Hung-yi Chien

A history of European Taiwan studies must mention a controversial man: George Psalmanazar. He not only claimed to be a native Formosan at meetings of the Royal Society but also published a book filled with his fictitious fantasy. This study suggests that Psalmanazar’s bold imposture encouraged the Royal Society to conduct a pioneering study of Formosa/Taiwan. Rather than rely on published travelogues to study remote places, the Royal Society found a qualified witness who had been to Formosa/Taiwan to offer reliable information. Based on Samuel Griffith’s testimony, the Royal Society agreed to reject Psalmanazar’s account. However, they remained silent in public and archived the conclusion against Psalmanazar. After the affair, Psalmanazar repented by providing correct information about Formosa/Taiwan in books that he was later involved with editing in the mid-eighteenth century. Thus, Psalmanazar was not only a catalyst of Formosa/Taiwan studies in Europe but also a researcher of the island.


A long-standing impression persists among scholars - with a few exceptions - that the Royal Society of London was in decline during the eighteenth century. This misperception has stemmed from four major sources: from the often-stated belief that the Society failed to follow the illustrious example that its greatest Fellow, Sir Isaac Newton, had set in the Principia ; from the negative opinions, repeatedly quoted, of several literary lions of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries; from the continued popularity of Babbage’s Reflections on the Decline of Science in England , published in 1830, which has cast a pall over the reputation of the Society in the eighteenth century ever since; and from the intensive study devoted to the Society’s early years, which has overshadowed later periods.


The writings of a seventeenth/eighteenth century divine do not sound a promising source of material for a modern discussion of a point in Old English linguistics. Yet any examination of the runic texts engraved on the Bewcastle Cross, one of the most important and controversial monuments of Northumbrian art, must begin with a report of William Nicolson, a Cumberland cleric, Bishop of Carlisle from 1702 to 1718 and thereafter Bishop of Derry and nominated Archbishop of Cashel and Emly. In this connexion the student of Old English finds an interest in the early history of the Royal Society. O f Nicolson the man we know a good deal, for diaries, notebooks and many of his letters have survived. He had wide interests, which he pursued with energy. He engaged in the religious and political controversies of his time, studied languages, writing Latin and German with ease and having some knowledge of Scandinavian tongues, and also found time to be an antiquarian, local historian and student of the natural sciences. We find him writing on botanical and geological subjects, translating a work on astronomy, examining collections of coins and medals, observing local industries and their techniques, recording old inscriptions, collecting lists of local dialect words, remarking ancient and curious buildings, and commenting on folk customs. He corresponded with the learned antiquaries of his time, and wrote and edited books on antiquarian subjects. Among Nicolson’s interests was one in runic inscriptions. Besides recording the two rune-stones then known in his native county of Cumberland, he twice made the toilsome journey to Ruthwell in Dumfriesshire to see the fragments of the famous runic cross which lay in the church there. His drawings of the runic texts of one of these fragments are of the greatest importance to the modern runologist.


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