3. The problem of immediacy

That the society museums acquired considerable quantities of geological material throughout the 1820s was as much a reflection of the ease with which such materials could be collected and preserved as it was of fashion or its high scientific potential. Consequently, geological collections tended to be the largest of those held; a fact that seems to hold true for the majority of British museums throughout the nineteenth century.^[1]

Viewing museums retrospectively it might be assumed that the great expanse of time over which they were expected to exist – ‘not only in the present day but in future ages’ – meant that the building of respectable collections was just a matter of time. Patience, however, was not a viable collecting strategy. It was soon apparent amongst the rival institutions that a museum’s reputation lay not in its collecting programme or intentions but in what it possessed. In order to further science, and provide display, lecture and identification services, an institution needed a collection. It could not function without it. And indeed would not attract the army of observers and collectors it required if it did not already have in place a collection of some worth. The philosophers needed an immediate solution to the collecting problem.

They viewed the natural world as a finite resource which could be transported from the field into the cabinet. With effort the fossil realm could simply be gathered up. Whilst acquisition was to continue throughout the life of these institutions this was, in part, to satisfy the need to give, felt so strongly amongst their supporters, and the impossibility of drawing boundaries to collecting – still a problem in the late twentieth century. Initially, the main objective was to create a functioning scientific institution, for which fuel was needed in the form of collections.^[2] While many of the participants were collectors or knew collectors, the size, nature and socio-political make up of these new corporate bodies provided opportunities for new ways to collect.

For these institutions, there were no limits to growth, and the immediacy of the collecting problem meant acquisition at the maximum possible rate. Their annual reports, in the early years, generally placed geological items at the head of the list of topics for review. Indeed, rather than review research successes, they chose to chronicle donations received; the most important of which were also given emphasis in the main preamble. In the first two years (1823-1824) the Yorkshire Philosophical Society gathered 4500 fossils, and whilst Phillips considered this a small collection, it was seen by the Society’s Council as its greatest achievement to date.^[3]

When Vernon first came to consider how his institution could most rapidly build the necessary fossil resource he called upon Buckland’s knowledge of the area. Undoubtedly the quickest way to secure a museum was simply to draw in existing private collections; all philosophical societies did this as they established themselves. Buckland had no doubt about the power of honorary membership in making this possible.

There is a very fine collection at Scarborough belonging to Mr Hinderwell, an elderly gentleman, which would at once set you up if he could be induced to bequeath it to you, or transfer it immediately wh[ich] w[oul]d be much better: by all means make him a Member.^[4]

Thomas Hinderwell was no geologist as his own writings show, as an antiquarian he had been reliant on others to do his fieldwork acquiring material through purchase.^[5] The collection probably lacked identification, stratification and localisation but might meet the superficial needs of quality cabinet specimens. In the hands of Smith and Phillips such material might be ‘backwards correlated’ with strata and even locality. The art of interpolation was as important to the map maker in the cabinet as it was in the field. Hinderwell, however, was unwilling to donate his collection but the York society proceeded with an honorary membership anyway, hoping perhaps to win by attrition.

Vernon actively sought intelligence on other collections which their owners might wish to donate, perhaps with an additional bribe, or sell. In 1823, for example, he discovered from John Bird that a Mr W. Wetherall had left Whitby to reside in Ripon and had taken his collection with him. Bird had never thought to attempt to acquire it, but enquired on behalf of Vernon and obtained for the York society the promise of a donation.^[6]

Donors

Acquisition of ready-made collections was never likely to be the key to the collecting problem nor would it satisfy the focused research objectives of the York philosophers. Instead, all societies would rely on an entirely new collecting mechanism (at least in local circles), that of selfless donation.

The council cannot but congratulate the Meeting upon so satisfactory a proof of the great and increasing zeal with which the Institution is supported, and the spirit of research which it has awakened; and they find no reason to regret the rule which they have laid down to themselves, of relying, for the augmentation of the Geological part of the Museum, chiefly on the individual exertions of the Members of the Society, and the liberality of those who are willing to contribute to its objects.^[7]

Of the 9183 geological specimens in the collections at the end of 1826, 89% had been donated.^[8] This method of collecting contrasted with that of private collectors who would need to rely upon their own fieldwork or the power of their wallets. The new societies had been uncertain, in the beginning, of the potential of donation.

William Danby was typical of the wealthy gentlemen who supported the philosophical societies, a ‘liberal and disinterested patron of natural science’, a cultivator of the arts who also invested heavily in the art market.^[9] But what motivated such men to participate? Were they really so disinterested? When he donated the remains of an elephant tusk from Harswell it was he who was recorded in the annual report, not the finder. His wealth and status enabled him to acquire specimens and give them in his own name. He was not, in fact, entirely disinterested, and was no doubt aware of the benefits of attaching his name to something which in the hands of the Society might achieve celebrity.

Donation represented the pursuit of self-interest in other ways too. The act of donation had social overtones: it represented benefaction and patronage, it placed the institution in a position subservient to the individual. Donors claimed the right to give and refusals were rare. Refusal could establish a cancer in a network peopled by a fairly select group of individuals belonging to the same social circle. To the donor the gesture was probably more important than the gift: the donor hoped to reap a social reward from the act; the institution in return would gain another building block towards its scientific and cultural reputation.

Exerting control

A reliance on gifts with no firm control from the society and little chance of refusal would only result in anarchy. Broad research and collecting interests had already been established by each society’s statement of mission but the material collected was largely determined by what members and non-members found and were prepared to give. As a means of acquisition undirected donation was extremely inefficient: information content and collecting rigour were uncontrolled and whilst purchase was avoided, the hidden costs of maintaining large nebulous collections would in time undermine the museum mission of the movement as a whole.^[10] Societies needed to exert some means of control.

This came in the form of annual status reports which highlighted the institutions’ strengths and weaknesses. To this end the York society issued a statement in February 1828 claiming that its 8000 fossil specimens gave fairly complete coverage of British strata. Donations were now required in specific areas:

from the tertiary strata of Norfolk and Suffolk, of Hampshire and the Isle of Wight, from the Oolite, Lias and Mountain Limestone of Bath and Bristol. In the Yorkshire series, the fossils most needed are from the Lias of Whitby, and the Mountain Limestone of Craven. In the organised fossils of foreign countries, and those of Scotland and Ireland, the collection is almost entirely defective.^[11]

In the following year, the Society moved into its new rooms; its rate of acquisition could now be considerably increased. The space was to be filled by expanding the collections of Yorkshire fossils which suddenly became less than adequate – these should be ‘the richest part of the Museum’:

numerous are the fossils which might be procured in all parts of the county, the supply would doubtless have been greater, were the members aware how much is still wanting to complete the excellence of this part of the Museum.^[12]

The philosophers of Whitby would have read of the York society’s eagerness to extend its Yorkshire collection and thus found an easy purchaser for some of the remnants of the late John Bird’s collection. Phillips also visited collections, sometimes for information gathering purposes but also to discuss the selection of specimens or to nurture collectors in the hope of future donation or bequest.^[13]

The Hull men also gave members clear instructions as to what might usefully be donated in order to enrich, or fill desiderata in, the collections. In Whitby collecting interests had always been more restricted, the Society’s need was primarily to encourage further donations. That such acquisitions might involve the donor in purchase is apparent here. Their motivation continued to be promotional:

The amazing number of 660 visitors entered since last anniversary, attests the pleasing fact, that the Whitby Museum has lost nothing of its interest in the eyes of strangers, who view with delight those fine specimens of Organic Remains, which so particularly distinguish this Institution from all others. Your Council would respectfully urge, the propriety of purchasing chiefly any new fossil specimens which may be found on the immediate coast and neighbourhood, as they consider those the most valuable and interesting parts of the collection.^[14]

The Whitby society also employed other mechanisms for the control of acquisitions and the prevention of duplication. Young and Ripley’s contacts with local collectors would give them access to all that was found; they could simply pick what they wanted. With shelves groaning under the weight of the collections, they still complained of incompleteness in their local series and continued to draw up lists of desiderata.^[15]

Dealers

A large number of society members, including Vernon, purchased their donations from dealers; members simply went shopping for presents. The Society would present itself as the instrument of mutual co-operation but beneath the surface it largely survived on self-proclamation. As an institution intent on promoting the city as a place of science and culture, there were potentially considerable social benefits for all who were associated with it.

The new social need to give presents to these institutions would bolster the supplementary income derived from selling fossils amongst the impoverished labouring classes of the coastal towns. During the summer fieldwork season, philosophers would regularly tour the coast picking up what they could. They would perhaps experience the excitement of the hunt, feeling that they were pursuing philosophical ends, but few (except known collectors) would have the skill or patience to find fine specimens. The summer months were (are) not the time for the true fossil enthusiast, as the best material reveals itself beneath winter cliff falls brought down by stormy seas and torrential rain storms. These specimens would be gathered up by jet workers, and others, and retained for future sale to tourists or ‘strangers’ when they flocked to the coast during the summer.

William Williamson recalled how ubiquitous fossils were along the Yorkshire coast at this time; they were much rarer by the end of the century. Men such as Rudd (also known perhaps as Reed and Ruff) and Irish Peter, of Scarborough, exploited this newly valued resource; skilful at both collecting and knowing the worth of what they had found. John Leckenby’s collection was largely derived from the efforts of these two men.^[16] Fossils could be found in shops in all the main towns along the coast – Bridlington,^[17] Whitby and Filey.

Amongst those shops selling fossils in Bridlington in the 1820’s were those belonging to Walter Wilson – ‘an intelligent lapidary of the place’^[18] – and Sam Cowton and Sons. These shops acted as intermediaries in the sale of fossils, often assembling larger collections from a number of different parties. Wilson, for example, took in the collection of a Mr Waters of the Custom House, Bridlington to which he added further specimens. Waters thus became a partner in the sale, apparently not being paid until the collection was sold. He contacted the York society in the Spring of 1823 to inform them of its availability and display in Wilson’s shop enclosing an itemised price list which included a mammoth tooth valued at £5 and 14 belemnites at five shillings. The whole collection was valued at £20.

They are a great variety of local specimens which would be suitable to your establishment. Wilson informed me that the tooth of the Hippopotamus was found near Barmston and the elephant at Hornsea.^[19]

Vernon became interested in the collection. It did indeed seem appropriate to the Society and might usefully supply material for him to purchase and donate. He visited Wilson’s at the earliest opportunity and expressed an interest in the ichthyosaur remains and the elephant tooth, ultimately, purchasing both ichthyosaur and plesiosaur material, and the teeth of the hippopotamus (which turned out to be rhinoceros) and elephant.^[20] Like Danby, he donated these in his own name, their true origin – through at least two other pairs of hands – having been sacrificed from the record. Vernon had become the primary owner and ‘collector’, and his name would remain attached to his presents; if the motives of these gentlemen were truly selfless Vernon could have made a donation to an institutional purchase fund. However, as his own purchases, even if he did not collect them from the field, they still displayed his connoisseurship and enabled him to ensure that they arrived with adequate supporting information. History would, however, also tend to infer field expertise when this was not actually apparent.

As the market in Yorkshire fossils took off during the 1830s, middle-class men also saw the potential for income generation. Most notable amongst these was the surgeon and Secretary of the Whitby Literary and Philosophical Society, Richard Ripley. Ripley had long been a generous supporter of his local society and had given much to the men of York but in 1830 he saw possibilities for material gain. By 1838 his business was in full flow, as he told Phillips:

I am now quite a wholesale dealer in the fossils of this neighbourhood – for in consequence of having become somewhat notorious for distributing fossils for so many years gratuitously I found the demand so considerable that it became expedient for me to alter my terms – and I am now disposing of them for a small profit so as just to secure me from losing money by them. And as I am on this subject allow me to say that I am in possession of many thousand specimens of almost all kinds of fossils from the Lias and Inferior Oolite and ready to supply either individuals with cabinet collections of from 70 to 100 specimens from about 50/- to £5. Or public institutions with larger specimens at somewhat higher prices. These collections will include belemnites, ammonites in great variety and beauty – many fine bivalve fossils – vegetable impressions – vertebrae of Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus & Crocodile or Proteosaurus etc. etc. and if any of your friends, or the Institutions with which you are acquainted should require them, I shall consider it a great favour if you would refer them to me at anytime, and the sooner the better; as the season for collection is now drawing on and my future purchases must be regulated in some degree by the demand. I fancy from long attention to these matters, I shall be able to satisfy purchasers being very well acquainted with the localities, nomenclature etc. etc.^[21]

Ripley had commercialised that function which had previously been exploited for the benefit of the local society.^[22] This may, however, have been the only way that the Whitby philosophers could continue to participate in the market. Phillips asked Ripley to look out for any material which seemed particularly promising, for which Ripley requested the favour of having Phillips identify some of the fossils he was offering for sale. His plan was to produce a lithograph of the local Lias with an associated catalogue and price list which he would then send to collectors. Ripley made frequent trips to London to tout his wares around the major collectors and museums, and would also act as an agent for collectors in the sale of vertebrate specimens. He also continued to collect for his own interest, amassing an important series of locally rare ammonites: ‘I wish much to be able to buy all the fossils which are offered in order that I may find out new species or varieties at any rate’. Some of these ammonites he parted with in 1841, allowing his own society to purchase them from him.^[23]

The collector’s ‘fragile monuments’

Private collectors also sought payment for their efforts. In 1825, William Bean discovered two new fossil producing beds in Robin Hoods Bay of which Phillips made much at the time, treating it as a new discovery and one not reflected in southern stratigraphy.^[24] Such work required appropriate reward. A precedent had been set by James Sowerby who gave generous credit to his collectors well knowing the game of diplomacy upon which his work depended.^[25] In this respect, Phillips, in his first book,^[26] which was particularly praised for its treatment of fossils from the Yorkshire coast, failed his collectors and they told him so. Both science and the collector had reasons for wanting the naming of owners of specimens. Science would demand a record of repository for the purposes of validating research; the collector would want his recognition. John Dunn, for example, had seen Phillips’ work as a means to personal fame; he was bitterly disappointed by Phillips’ failure to give credit and warned him against repeating the mistake:

Respecting your work, something must be done and this directly; our collectors will not let their labours remain unknown… copy no specimen from any collection without acknowledging; it is a trifling task, more interesting to the public than you think, and which is of more consequence to you, a duty to those from whom you owe the specimens. The want of it the last time has left a severe heartburning among some of your earliest and best friends and contributors… you must indulge the finders with the names they choose to give, if not very ridiculous. They have the right of property and can instantly obtain the fulfilness of such wishes by sending their specimens to London or Paris. You should have sent Williamson your Yorks report. It is not yet too late. Do not forget so industrious and worthy a fellow.^[27]

Dunn’s words caused Phillips alarm and fearing the loss of support of his ‘earliest and best friends’ he wrote to his collecting contacts in Scarborough to assure them of his intentions. Bean responded immediately:

My dear friend defer your supplement until you have time to spend a few days with me, but if you are determined to begin immediately let me know… and I will as soon as possible commence operations – your plan is a just one and it will satisfy all reasonable persons though I must confess I have no ambition in seeing my name appear among some of your correspondents.^[28]

Bean needed no such assistance in establishing his reputation, unlike Dunn his talents were widely known outside of the town. Alternatively, these words might be interpreted as a wish not to be associated with other collectors in the town in a published list. Nevertheless, when Phillips came to produce the second edition of his volume on the Yorkshire coast, and a companion volume on the Mountain Limestone district, he did identify the cabinets from which the figured specimens had come and thus gave the collectors the credit they demanded.^[29]

Collectors were particularly keen to reap the rewards which might arise from the use of their material in science. They often had legitimate claim to scientific discovery as they not only produced interesting cabinet fossils but also revealed their field context. But as George Cumberland complained, the drive to create memorials through collecting flew in the face of science:

They, and a few others, gathered the materials of this fabric raised to fame, and entitled to a full share of the honours reaped by those who, without their aid, could never have brought them before the world, yet, some of whom, with a vanity that greatly impedes scientific pursuits, affix their own insignificant names to every shell they find, or purchase of some poor quarrier on the road side; so that now we have not less than twenty-three fossil ammonites, that have little or no other description to know them by than the family names of the supposed first finders! In almost every other department of fossil conchology, indeed, this same abuse prevails, and this tickle-toby method has now been carried too far… this scramble for notoriety disgraces the appropriators of such fragile monuments, for all must be demolished before we can know, by a marked distinction, what shell or fossil remain we are possessed of, or talking about, so as to come to a knowledge of the stratum to which it belongs. The worst is, that this greediness of fame infects even public societies, and they would cancel, if possible, the discoveries of private individuals unconnected with them, or veil them by neglecting them in their general reports, until such time as the leading members of their own institutions are prepared to amalgamate them into their papers as previously known to them; and this system of exclusiveness is not only unhandsome and unjust, but prejudicial to the discovery of truth in science…^[30]

The dominance of this philosophy is seen in the reprinting of early society reports. Understandably, the first report of each philosophical society was produced in small numbers and rapidly became out of print. But in order that donors should see their gifts acknowledged, the York society republished the donation list of the first report in the second. They chose to do this rather than extol their mission statement which later members might also have missed.

Donors had their rights, and prominent amongst these was to see their names emblazoned on labels and in the annual report. Here the societies patronised donors with their descriptive prose. In an era where superlatives were uncontrolled in advertising, it should be no surprise that this language also found its way into museum reports. Donations were ‘fine’, ‘important’, ‘beautiful’, ‘rare’, ‘valuable’ and so on. These adjectives were a linguistic form of payment aimed at flattering the donor, and a means of advertising the increasing significance of society collections. For example, in 1827, William Bean gave the Whitby society a ‘Valuable collection of 60 fossils including 4 rare ammonites; 3 rare belemnites; 3 rare echinites; one rare spinite, a fine specimen of Cancer [crab] from the Speeton Shale’.^[31] Such adjectives infer superior collecting skill and connoisseurship. Later the term ‘series’ was adopted for donations of collections of fossils. The term conferred scientific credibility on the donor, suggesting informed collecting based on an understanding of the strata involved.

Edward Forbes,^[32] was later scathing about the practice of placing personal fame above the needs of science:

The only label attached to nine specimens out of ten is “presented by Mr or Mrs So-and-so”; the object of the presentation having been either to cherish the glow of generous self-satisfaction in the bosom of the donor, or to get rid – under the semblance of doing a good action – of rubbish that had once been prized, but latterly stood in the way.^[33]

Collectors, could by their activities, make important links with men of elevated social or scientific station. Knowing science’s dependency on their work, they would often exploit these contacts for their own ends. Thus Ripley saw Phillips as a means to increase his fossil sales, similarly John Leckenby wished to use Phillips to enable him to join the scientific elite:

May I venture to ask of you the favour to nominate me for the Royal Society. I have promises of support but your name will be a tower of strength if you will condescend to aid so humble a labourer in your vineyard.^[34]

The panorama of geological progress

Material in support of a society’s local mission could be acquired easily enough through donation and purchase as well as from the fieldwork of its officers and members. The Yorkshire Philosophical Society also took a broader interest in geological progress and reflected this in its collecting, as the following chapters show. The Society’s interests broadened still further as Phillips’ career led him to expand his geological horizons. During the 1830s he produced a number of general works on geology including his Guide to Geology and an extended essay on the subject for the Encyclopedia Metropolitana. In 1834, he became Professor of Geology at Kings College, London, where he gave courses of lectures on general geology. His work for the British Association would also keep him in touch with the latest developments in science. As his career progressed he continued to maintain his links with York and as he grew in stature so he became increasingly indispensable to the local society.^[35] Through mere good fortune or intention, the York philosophers assembled collections which reflected this wider view.

In 1838, for example, as a result of good fortune, the York society found itself a participant in an Anglo-French debate concerning the oldest known mammals. In 1818, Cuvier had seen two half jaws from the Stonesfield Slate which he assigned on casual inspection to Didelphis, an opossum. Opossums were known only in Australia and the Americas. These fossils had come from Oolitic strata, no fossil mammals had previously been found in rocks this old. In 1826, William Broderip found another example and published a description in Zoological Journal;^[36] and in October 1829, he donated a number of his monographs to the York philosophers, including his account of Didelphis. On 28 March 1831, Phillips’ good friend and coastal observer, the Rev. Chris Sykes donated the fossil jaw of an opossum: ‘the Opossum, will be better preserved in the Society’s collection than mine, therefore I will thank you to present them’.^[37] In presenting the jaw at the April meeting, Phillips explained its rarity and importance: it was the fourth example known and possibly a new species; these jaws alone contradicted the belief that no mammal existed in rocks of this age. In its annual report the Society referred to it as its most valuable specimen, it had originally come from a collection made for Sir Christopher Sykes by a Mr Platt, of Oxfordshire, more than forty years earlier.^[38] Enthusiasm for these fossils led Phillips to meet Murchison at Stamford for an abortive attempt to find examples in the lithologically similar Collyweston Slate.^[39]

In 1838, the debate concerned the taxonomic place of Didelphis – was it really a mammal? As Charlesworth explained at the time, the debate had gathered considerable public attention, such tiny fragments were turning perceived notions upside down. As for Sykes’ specimen, the French only had a drawing, which Phillips had a long time earlier sent to Cuvier; the specimen itself, whilst known, appears not to have participated in the action directly.^[40]

The Society, in an entirely different way, reflected the growing interest in some of the youngest and oldest fossils. In 1830, Deshayes published the results of a comparison of extant and extinct species in the Tertiary rocks of Europe. By numerate methods he attempted to show that the age of these rocks could be determined by the ratio of these two species groups.^[41] The work was supported by Charles Lyell, and heightened interest in the Crag of East Anglia. Phillips visited the Suffolk Crag, perhaps for the first time, in April 1831.^[42] This formation became of increasing interest as Charlesworth debated with Lyell over the stratigraphic details and its fossils became much sought after fashion items, not least for the quality of their preservation. The Whitby society was certainly keen to exchange its fossils for examples from the Crag. At the same time Samuel Woodward was distributing specimens to as many societies as he could. Some years later, Edward Charlesworth would encourage even greater interest amongst private collectors and stimulate a trade in these fossils. The Crag was not the only formation or locality to rise to fame with fossil collectors at this time. Christian Malford, Hordle, Bradford upon Avon, Bovey Tracey and so on, provided a vocabulary which amongst collectors implied connoisseurship.

Phillips’ volume on the Mountain Limestone district of Yorkshire, published in 1836, thrust the author into the heart of controversies surrounding much older rocks.^[43] In response the Yorkshire Philosophical Society began to gather considerable quantities of Mountain Limestone and Transition Series fossils from various parts of Britain, Europe and the United States, from donors who included some of the main players in the debate.^[44] With the publication of Murchison’s Silurian System in 1839, these collections were completely reorganised and redisplayed so as to illustrate the latest understanding. Throughout the early 1840’s the Society continued to collect fossils from:

those parts of the series of Palaeozoic organisation, which are at this moment of special Geological interest, and which were imperfectly represented in the cabinets… the student will find in the Yorkshire Museum the means of investigating some of the most general questions at present under discussion, regarding the nature and distribution of the most ancient forms of animal life.^[45]

Such comparative collections were invaluable in deciphering the generalisations of geology, and interpreting more local successions. Wherever description and publication had taken place, the localities concerned became important ‘type’ areas from which to collect a fauna for comparative purposes and to supplement the inadequacies of the two-dimensional representations in monographs.

Another major area of general interest for all the societies in Yorkshire and elsewhere were coal deposits; this was the primary concern of the Yorkshire Geological and Polytechnic Society established in 1837. Coal was the country’s most important economic resource, yet its origins were still a cause of considerable debate, its flora poorly differentiated and described, and its stratigraphy far from clear. For these reasons, coal plants became prized possessions and were collected in considerable numbers. The intense interest in these fossils during this period cannot be overstated, but has largely been overlooked. Coal was of interest to every geologist, not least amongst York’s scientific correspondents. In the mid 1820s, Buckland was encouraging Robert Brown to take a lead in rescuing fossil botany from obscurity; a task for botanists and not geologists. He also put the York men in contact with Sternberg, a key figure in the developing science of palaeobotany. At the same time Vernon’s friend, Conybeare, encouraged De la Beche to send him representative examples of the Jamaican flora for comparison with coal plants.^[46] And perhaps most importantly, Adolphe Brongniart, continued to encourage the York society to investigate its local fossil flora and communicate information to him. Amongst its local geological celebrities was Henry Thomas Maire Witham, of Lartington Hall, an honorary member who pioneered research into the internal structure of fossil plants, and discovered in a Mountain Limestone specimen donated by the Rev. Charles Venables Vernon, traces of both monocotyledonous and dicotyledonous structure. He named this specimen Lepidodendron harcourti.

Vernon told Buckland in 1823 that he was putting himself in contact with the coal, iron and lead producing districts and was to tour them. Coal plants were to become one of the York society’s largest areas of acquisition, supported by probably its most extensive network of collectors and donors. Examples from all the major coal producing regions in Yorkshire as well as from Edinburgh, Somerset, Northumberland and Newcastle arrived in York. The collecting methodology was entirely inductive, and led to a high proportion of ‘duplicates’.

The subject also formed the topic of a Phillips’ lecture which he toured around the societies in 1824. During his lecture tours to Leeds, Sheffield, Wakefield and Manchester he took every opportunity to become versed in coal measure stratigraphy. In May 1825 he wrote to Goldie in great excitement, having isolated Pecten papyraceus as a marker fossil capable of linking the stratigraphy of the Sheffield coalfield with that of Leeds, Bradford, Halifax and Huddersfield where the fossil also occurs. He wished to record ‘in the immortal archives of the Society my claim to an original discovery because though it be of local interest, discoveries are so rare nowadays and so often disputed that it becomes desirable to have them well authenticated’.^[47] Phillips’ visits to these areas also encouraged further local research into the coal flora and a drift of specimens and information to the York society.

In November 1825, the Yorkshire Philosophical Society received its most impressive coal measure plant – a sandstone cast of a Syringodendron measuring nearly 6 ft long and 30 inches in diameter. Located in a quarry at Altofts near Wakefield by the Rev. Samuel Sharp, it was extracted by him with the assistance of William Marshall, George Goldie and Wakefield’s Wilby. Placed in the Yorkshire Museum in the position in which it was found it formed ‘a gigantic monument of ancient vegetation’ and an impressive monument to the donor.^[48] Sharp donated another gigantic coal measure plant a few years later, this time a huge sandstone cast of Lepidodendron.^[49] He also gave similar specimens to other societies.

Duplication and dealing

Through their rate of acquisition, all philosophical institutions would run out of space within a few years of establishment. Within half a century, the burden of extensive reference collections would make the provincial museum an unattractive adjunct to the business of provincial societies^[50] but in the ‘Heroic Age’ there were no such worries. ‘Want of room’, wrote Phillips to Goldie, on hearing of the York society’s overfull premises, ‘fills me with delight because it proves the spreading of knowledge and spirit of enquiry which distinguishes the present and will I hope adorn the future age’.^[51] Like its contemporaries, the York society had at first established its museum in temporary rooms – if these were to become overcrowded then larger premises would be sought. A building of their own making was a rapidly realised goal for them all.

There was indeed no time to be lost: every corner of the Society’s present apartments is filled with cases and drawers, and every drawer and case is crowded with specimens; nor has the number of donations diminished, which have continued to be received at every meeting; so that in a short time these accessions must either have been declined, or subjected to injury and confusion.^[52]

The Whitby society had collected every local fossil of the slightest importance, its thirst for new specimens was unquenchable. It had thought it could outdo the private collector by creating a collection so much larger than it was possible for them to achieve, but even these society museums could not cope with this grand scale of collecting:

had it not been for the peculiar local advantages which we possess, for procuring those rich and gigantic fossil treasures, with which our district abounds… your museum would never have attracted the attention, nor excited the interest of the scientific, the learned, and the curious, which the signatures in the Introduction Book sufficiently attest… Your stores of curiosities have been augmented from year to year by additional contributions, so that the drawers and shelves of your Museum are literally crammed, and groaning under the accumulated loads of interesting and valuable articles; without that order, protection, and care, which their value, as well as the respect due to the contributors, ought to secure for them. It may safely be remarked, that contributors will not consider themselves honoured on finding that their donations have been consigned to an obscure corner, or perhaps to a drawer, where they can seldom be seen, and it is reasonable to infer, that they would rather present them to some other Institution, where they would be displayed to greater advantage… some little disgrace already rests upon the Institution, for want of a new general arrangement and classification of the contents of the Museum; which also require to be catalogued and properly labelled: but which it would be lost labour to attempt, until specimens, when so disposed of, can be protected from further injury and derangement by suitable glass cases.^[53]

The Hull society also rapidly outgrew its accommodation. Unlike its contemporaries it had great difficulties in establishing permanent quarters. Unable to organise or display the collections, donors became increasingly reluctant to give material. They would instead retain valuable items in their own collections rather than expose them to the Museum’s disorder. Consequently, the Museum’s collections grew slowly and each year admitted few gifts of substance.

Whilst duplication was a problem resulting from incessant donations, provided a knowledgeable curator was on hand the sheer number of specimens coming under his gaze meant the statistical probability of something unusual coming to light was considerably raised. Phillips, for example, found in one of Samuel Woodward’s presents from Norwich a new species of Spatangus.^[54] Woodward, who had his own interest in research and publication would not have passed on so valuable a specimen had he known. This process of mass accumulation, was identical to that adopted by Richard Ripley, in order to locate rare ammonites, indeed this was the only way to isolate rare elements in a fossil fauna.

Ripley knew that he could sell on what he did not want. The societies also found dealing a useful adjunct to their activities; they had no scruples about selling the poorer duplicate, and indeed all societies saw this as a legitimate way of raising income. In some cases the duplicate might be the poorer specimen which had been at the heart of an original discovery, such as the poor Scarborough fossils given by Smith and Phillips in 1824. A society would suffer no compunction in discarding such important specimens in favour of better preserved examples of the fauna. The practice of selling duplicates was a collection management technique adopted from the private collector.

I have been at a great expense in fitting up my museum and the glass which will cost £30 or £40 is yet wanting. I can spare a good collection of British Shells 350 or 400 spp and varieties for £35 or £40 if any of your friends want, have the goodness to inform me.^[55]

There were, however, institutional precedents. In its early years, the Geological Society had sold duplicates. Such practice was seen as good museum management.^[56] Amongst the Yorkshire societies none pursued this commercial aspect with greater business acumen than Whitby Literary and Philosophical Society. George Young, in particular, but also John Bird and Richard Ripley, were active correspondents of societies further afield, and particularly with their counterparts in York. The Yorkshire Philosophical Society, used these contacts as a means of acquiring fossil reptiles, plants and fish. Young’s role was to act as an agent for both the York philosophers as well as the Whitby collectors; a middle man with the interests of both in mind but with those of his own society firmly to the fore. By this means material would flow from the coast directly into the collections of the Yorkshire Museum, or perhaps via a member who would donate the specimens in his own name. Young would purchase specimens from dealers on Vernon’s behalf; selection was often left in the Whitby man’s hands.

Young would also make purchases himself before selling these on to York. For example, in 1825 he bought a fossil fish which he described as rare and well-preserved; ‘I bought it for 16s and judging that it would be highly profitable, I resolved to forward it without waiting to hear from you’.^[57] Young’s ability to tap into the philosophical brotherhood would make him an essential contact for the Whitby collectors and one they would perhaps favour with specimens or discounts. With the explosion of interest in geology in the 1820s, fossils were becoming a new currency and one which Whitby could use to its advantage to extend its own collections in all areas ‘chiefly by the sale or exchange of duplicates, or by bartering Whitby fossils’.^[58] Whitby fossils were used in exchanges for a wide range of other types of object, allowing the diversification of the collections.^[59] The Society encouraged the local fossil market and then hoped to act as a central control to the dispersion of fossils. In 1839 it decided that it would like to expand its collections of foreign fossils:

these might be conveniently procured by an exchange of Whitby fossils, which here are so accessible, and would be rare and invaluable acquisitions to Institutions like ours, in distant localities. The traffic would be mutually advantageous.^[60]

By the mid-1830s Whitby Literary and Philosophical Society was awash with fossils and decided to put together a collection of 300 to 400 good specimens properly arranged into series, for sale in London. The money raised – some £60 to £100 – would enable the purchase of cases and the classification of the fossil collections in the Museum. The sale, however, which was of fewer specimens than expected, only raised £13!

In 1842, Martin Simpson, then curator at the museum of the Yorkshire Geological and Polytechnic Society in Wakefield travelled to Whitby to negotiate an exchange between the two institutions. Simpson bemoaned the fact that his Society was too impoverished to purchase some of the better specimens; ‘the plants of the sandstone beds I fear are beyond my reach’.^[61] An enterprising collector, however, he undertook an excursion inland and rapidly gathered up 1000 fossils from the Dogger which he hoped to use as collateral.

Scarborough Literary and Philosophical Society also saw dealing as a means to generate income. Unlike many of its larger cousins in Bristol and Leeds, it could make no money from lectures and had little in the way of operational funds. In 1831 the Society resolved:

that Mr Williamson be requested to prepare a collection of specimens to be sold for the benefit of the museum and that a fourth part of the receipts be presented to Mr Williamson as a compensation for his trouble.^[62]

The coastal philosophical societies formed the natural point of contact for distant geologists in pursuit of Yorkshire fossils. The Scarborough society would sometimes meet such requests by exchange, at other times by sale: ‘Resolved that the curator be instructed to make a small collection and send them with prices affixed for his approval’.^[63] As it developed its own fossil specialities, such as fossil plants from Gristhorpe, so these became much sought after by both societies and collectors.

Still struggling for funds the most accessible room in Scarborough Museum was shelved out for the purposes of displaying duplicate fossils for sale or exchange. What exactly was meant by the term ‘duplicate’ is unclear. Certainly, the coastal societies were poorly equipped in terms of men of science or books on natural history. Their discussion of reptile finds suggests that they sometimes thought in terms of ‘types’ of fossil rather than species. The Museum was becoming another coastal dealership. Barely having adequate facilities to display its best specimens, its new shop was treated as a priority.

The Society, through bureaucracy and lack of funds, had found the acquisition of local finds difficult; it could not exert the same influence on the market as its Whitby counterpart. It was difficult enough to compete with private collectors in the town such as Bean who were already well established. Nor could it respond rapidly to the needs of potential purchasers. To this end the Council of the Society delegated responsibility for purchases, sales and exchanges to Dunn, J. Bury and Smith.^[64] With the coming of the railway in the mid 1840s the coastal communities were contemplating the arrival of ‘monster trains’ carrying 3000 visitors. Such unprecedented tourism would be good for museums and dealers alike. To meet this new need Williamson was asked to prepare ‘small collections of fossils in cases for sale’ to tourists.^[65]

The situation in York was very different; it had no rich local source of fossils. It could only hope to rely on exchange as a means of acquiring more exotic or desirable specimens. Its rapid acquisition of fossils meant there was no shortage of duplicate material, although this only became apparent when Phillips began to curate the collections. One of the first collections he worked on was that of coal fossils amassed by the network of collectors throughout the North of England. Such specimens could be ‘exchanged with advantage’.^[66] Phillips established a ‘duplicates room’, and during the curation process threw away considerable numbers of apparently worthless specimens. Of the remainder:

It is very desirable to exchange all the duplicates which are worth sending away, then to arrange the remainder in lots according to donors, to whom they may be offered: if refused let them be thrown away.^[67]

Hull Literary and Philosophical Society, despite a desperate want of room, continued to purchase natural history collections knowing that duplicates could profitably be sold. Amongst those interested in such material were neighbouring societies hoping to fill gaps in their own collections, or find material of importance overlooked by the selling institution. As Dikes wrote to Phillips in January 1828:

I cannot yet say exactly when I shall be ready to sell our duplicates. I have bought another large collection so that their number will be very greatly increased. I have almost made up my mind to alter the mode of disposing of them and to adopt the Tankerville^[68] system instead of forcing a sale by auction. I think I shall be ready in a month or two when I shall hope to have the pleasure of a visit from you.^[69]

In their early years the philosophical societies discovered for themselves both the means to collect and understand fully its implications. The need for a collection was such that the societies collected as rapidly as possible, exploiting as many avenues to specimens as could be found. The collection was essential to progress; a society could not function without it. Collecting became a social occupation and a means to satisfy personal ambitions; discovery and donation often had little to do with science. Control of acquisition was, however, difficult but means were found to rationalise what they held. Such rationalisation, however, which focused on the illustrative quality and rarity of specimens would inevitably mean the loss of that material which really underpinned scientific discovery.

^[1] Knell (1996:40).

^[2] Conybeare remarked after the first meeting of the Bristol Philosophical Society that ‘the Museum will immediately contain a very fair geological collection’. This was the norm. Conybeare, Bristol to De la Beche, Jamaica, 8 January 1823, NMW 301.

^[3] YPS (1825) Annual Report for 1824.

^[4] Buckland to Vernon, 29 December 1823, in Melmore (1942).

^[5] Hinderwell (1811:235).

^[6] Bird to Vernon, 9 December 1823, in Melmore (1942). The collection, however, seems not to have come to York.

^[7] YPS (1825) Annual Report for 1824.

^[8] YPS (1827) Annual Report for 1826.

^[9] William Danby (1752 – 4 December 1833); YPS (1834) Annual Report for 1833; Hailstone (1869).

^[10] Knell (1996).

^[11] YPS (1828) Annual Report for 1827.

^[12] YPS (1829) Annual Report for 1828.

^[13] In March 1826 he was nurturing a Mr Bosville of Ravensfield Park who held an important collection but ‘His collection of saurians [were] sold in London 1819 for the benefit of some persons at Lyme Regis supplied Cuvier’s fine specimens’ YPS Daybook of John Phillips. This sale was undoubtedly that for the Annings organised by Colonel Birch (Torrens 1995:261).

^[14] WL&PS (1829) Annual Report, 7.

^[15] WL&PS (1839) Annual Report, 17.

^[16] Williamson (1896:55).

^[17] For a time Bridlington changed its name to Burlington, Theakston’s Guide to Scarborough (1859:76).

^[18] Bean (1835:355).

^[19] Waters to YPS, 30 April & 29 May 1823, YPS Letter Book.

^[20] Cowton, Bridlington to YPS, 17 June 1823, YPS Letter Book; YPS (1825) Annual Report of 1824.

^[21] Ripley, Whitby to Phillips, 10 November 1838, OUM Phillips 1838/56.

^[22] See chapter 5.

^[23] WL&PS (1841) Annual Report, 19.

^[24] YPS Scientific Communications Volume 1, 25 October 1825; YPS (1826) Annual Report for 1825.

^[25] Sowerby, J. & Sowerby, J. de C. (1812-1826).

^[26] Phillips (1829).

^[27] Dunn, Scarborough to Phillips, York, 25 June 1831, OUM Phillips 1831/8. The Scarborough men obviously felt that collectors could dictate names to those who would undertake the description. In 1833, the Council of the Scarborough society proposed that one of their new fossils would be named after Miss Currer, one of their benefactors. SL&PS Minutes of Council, Thursday 11 April 1833.

^[28] Bean, Scarborough to Phillips, 1 July 1831, OUM Phillips 1831/9.1.

^[29] Phillips (1835:177-184).

^[30] Cumberland (1829:348).

^[31] WL&PS (1827) Annual Report, 5.

^[32] Edward Forbes (12 February 1815 – November 1854), see Mills (1984).

^[33] Forbes speaking in 1854 reported by Rudler (1877:20).

^[34] Leckenby, Scarborough to Phillips, 13 June 1870, OUM Phillips 1870/33.

^[35] YPS (1838) Annual Report for 1837.

^[36] Broderip (1828). William John Broderip (21 November 1789 – 27 February 1859). Cleevely (1983:67).

^[37] OUM Phillips 1831/3.2. see also Edmonds (1975b:268); Rupke (1983:162-163).

^[38] YPS (1832) Annual Report for 1831.

^[39] OUM Phillips Box 83 folder 22.

^[40] Charlesworth (1839); Anon. (1839); Blainville (1839a;1839b); Valenciennes (1839). Desmond (1989) has reviewed this controversy in detail.

^[41] This is discussed further in Chapter 9.

^[42] Zittel (1901:430-4); Young, Whitby to Phillips, 19 May 1831, OUM Phillips1831/6.

^[43] See Rudwick (1985); Secord (1986).

^[44] YPS (1838) Annual Report for 1837; YPS (1842) Annual Report for 1841.

^[45] YPS (1843) Annual Report for 1842.

^[46] Conybeare, Bristol to De la Beche, Jamaica, 3 April 1823, NMW 300. Ward (1889) provides some useful sketches of the main personalities in fossil botany.

^[47] Phillips, Sheffield, to Goldie, York, 14 May & 10 June 1825, in Melmore (1943a).

^[48] YPS Scientific Communications Volume 1, 9 November 1825; YPS (1826) Annual Report for 1825.

^[49] YPS (1828) Annual Report for 1827.

^[50] Knell (1996).

^[51] Phillips, Hull to Goldie, York, 7 January 1825, in Melmore (1943a).

^[52] YPS (1829) Annual Report for 1828.

^[53] WL&PS (1835) Annual Report, 13.

^[54] YPS Daybook of John Phillips, 9 May 1826.

^[55] Bean to Phillips, 1 July 1831, OUM Phillips 1831/9.1.

^[56] Woodward (1907:46).

^[57] Young to Goldie, 22 & 28 February 1825, Melmore (1942).

^[58] WL&PS (1825) Annual Report, 2.

^[59] WL&PS (1837) Annual Report, 15; WL&PS (1838) Annual Report, 16.

^[60] WL&PS (1839) Annual Report, 17.

^[61] Simpson to T.W. Embleton, 16 August 1842, in Davis (1889:163).

^[62] SL&PS Minutes of Council, 11 February 1831.

^[63] SL&PS Minutes of Council, 8 April 1831 & 13 February 1835.

^[64] SL&PS Minutes of Council, 8 December 1835.

^[65] SL&PS Minutes of Council, 27 May & 7 July 1845, 4 December 1848.

^[66] YPS Daybook of Phillips, 9 March 1826. In 1833, 10% of the YPS collection as a whole consisted of duplicates. YPS (1834) Annual Report for 1833.

^[67] YPS Daybook of Phillips, 11 March, 9 & 13 May 1826.

^[68] This probably refers to the collection of Charles Bennet, the 4th Earl of Tankerville (15 November 1743-10 December 1822). The ‘system’ is probably that adopted by G.B Sowerby who purchased this large collection, catalogued it and then sold it on to numerous individual collectors who came to view it (Cleevely 1983:282).

^[69] Dikes to Phillips, 14 January 1828, OUM Phillips1828/1.

Simon Knell

Books and essays by Simon Knell