1. Rivals and monuments: philosophical societies and fossils in the 1820s

The philosophical societies which epitomised British provincial science in the 1820s were a reawakening of a movement begun in Derby, Manchester, Newcastle and elsewhere in the previous century. Like their predecessors, they remained clubs for the wealthy, the influential and the professional classes. Depending upon the nature of the town or city, they might also include a large representation from the rising industrial middle classes.^[1] In many ways, these societies represented and perpetuated the class-related values of the eighteenth century, but in the years ahead they would have to face up to considerable social turmoil. They were also, like their forebears, wedded to their own concept of progress which focused on scientific and commercial advancement. All held a belief in debate and the value of opinion. Collections were at the heart of their operation^[2] and were primarily seen as an educational resource, though, as will be revealed, they also had a multitude of other social and cultural functions. But perhaps more important than any of these things was a desire to create an overt cultural statement which would affect external perceptions of the town or neighbourhood.

Whilst it has been suggested that these formed a model for the development of natural history societies in the 1830s,^[3] too much can be read into a name; the philosophical societies formed in Bristol, Bath, and throughout Yorkshire were also largely devoted to natural history. Inevitably, a new generation of societies would use the fashionable title, in part at least to separate itself from its more conservative predecessors. The new philosophical societies inherited a name but they reflected the social structures and needs of their own time.

The county’s latent philosophers drew their inspiration from developments in neighbouring regions, in particular from the older philosophical societies in Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham and Newcastle. Interestingly, the natural history interests of two of these societies were usurped by newer and more specialised organisations: the Manchester Society for the Promotion of Natural History established in 1821, and the Natural History Society of Northumberland, Durham and Newcastle formed in 1829. Ultimately, it was these new societies, rather than their older cousins, which had most in common with the Yorkshire philosophical societies in terms of motive and interest.

Table 1.1: Establishment dates for some British learned societies to 1850

1651 Oxford Philosophical Society

1660 Royal Society

1680 Temple Coffee House Botanical Club

1683 Dublin Literary and Philosophical Society

1710 Spalding Gentlemen’s Society

1721 Botanical Society

1730 Peterborough Philosophical Society

1737 Philosophical Society of Edinburgh

1740 Aurelian Society [first: flourishing at this time]

1762 Aurelian Society [second]

1779 Bath Philosophical Society [the first]

1781 Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society

1783 Royal Society of Edinburgh

Derby Literary and Philosophical Society

1788 Linnean Society

1793 Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society

1798 Bath Philosophical Society [the second]

1799 Royal Institution

1800 Birmingham Literary and Philosophical Society

College of Surgeons

1801 Aurelian Society [third]

1803 Royal Cork Institution

1805 London Institution

Bristol Literary and Philosophical Society

1807 Geological Society of London

1808 Wernerian Society of Edinburgh

1809 Bristol Institution

1814 Royal Geological Society of Cornwall

Liverpool Royal Institution

1818 Portsmouth and Portsea Literary and Philosophical Society

Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society

1819 Cambridge Philosophical Society

1820 Cornwall Literary and Philosophical Institution (formed a museum 1828)

Liverpool Museum (attached to Royal Liverpool Institution)

1821 Manchester Society for the Promotion of Natural History

Belfast Natural History & Philosophical Society

1822 Yorkshire Philosophical Society

Hull Literary and Philosophical Society

Sheffield Literary and Philosophical Society

1823 Whitby Literary and Philosophical Society

1824 Bath Literary and Scientific Institution

Norfolk & Norwich Museum

1825 Canterbury Philosophical and Literary Institution (est. museum)

1826 Wakefield Literary and Philosophical Society

Zoological Society of London

1827 Scarborough Literary and Philosophical Society

1828 Chelmsford Philosophical Society

Southampton Philosophical Society

Chatham Philosophical and Literary Society

Ashmolean Natural History Society of Oxfordshire

1829 Natural History Society of Northumberland, Durham, Newcastle Upon Tyne

1830 Gloucester Natural History Society

Royal Zoological Society of Ireland

1831 British Association for the Advancement of Science

Berwickshire Naturalists Club

1833 Royal Entomological Society

1834 Edinburgh Geological Society

Cheltenham Literary and Philosophical Institution

1835 Cuverian Society of Cork

Natural History Society for Salop & North Wales

1836 Natural History Society for Nottingham

Dover Museum

Botanical Society of the British Isles

Botanical Society of Edinburgh

1837 Yorkshire Geological and Polytechnic Society

Orkney Natural History Society

1838 Manchester Geological Society

1839 Royal Microscopical Society

1840 Devon and Cornwall Natural History Society

1842 Dudley and Midland Geological Society

1846 Cotteswold Naturalists’ Field Club

1847 Worcestershire Naturalists’ Club

1849 Leicester Literary and Philosophical Society

1850 Huddersfield Naturalist, Photographic and Antiquarian Society

Yorkshire embraces ‘the spirit of the age’

The movement took hold in Yorkshire at the very beginning of the decade; there was much talk of museums and societies.

The establishment of them in numerous… towns, within the last few years, forms undoubtedly one of the most distinguishing characteristics of the spirit of the age in which we live.^[4]

Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society, founded in 1819, led the way becoming fully active in 1821.^[5] The Yorkshire Philosophical Society, and Whitby, Hull and Sheffield^[6] Literary and Philosophical Societies all date from November 1822; Scarborough Literary and Philosophical Society arrived on the scene five years later, delayed in part by political manoeuvring in the county.

That these societies should form simultaneously is in part a reflection of fashion, but also of cultural rivalry.

We may fairly presume, that the most liberal support will be given to an Institution, so well calculated to promote the credit and advantage of the town, and the intellectual improvement of its inhabitants, not only in the present day but in future ages.^[7]

Each society relished high social and scientific status, and looked to comparisons with its neighbours to monitor its progress. Such status was based on the size and quality of their collections, the magnificence of their institutional buildings and the contacts they maintained with the upper echelons of science and society. Collections became monuments to scientific advance; buildings, symbols of cultural identity. It is not surprising that a class preoccupied with wealth and status should seek to create an institution which in a material and enduring way symbolised these two most valued beliefs.

The early nineteenth century provincial town was not generally endowed with the infrastructure necessary to support the role taken on by these new societies. Many saw London as the one and only centre of English culture, and those who had sufficient wealth made regular trips there to recharge their social batteries. In contrast, the provincial town was often seen as an unsophisticated backwater: the home of commerce but not of culture. Hull was perhaps not untypical:

To the deplorable want of public buildings in Hull, the attention of its inhabitants has of late been strongly directed; and it can only be hoped that some means may speedily be discovered of removing the stigma which attaches to the town on this account.^[8]

The aim of philosophers was to emulate, and even upstage, the cultural institutions of the capital. They would achieve this utilising traditional mechanisms of patronage. The grand provincial edifices of science would rise up from the private funds of supporters; monuments to civic co-operation and self-improvement.

However, this appearance of selfless combined effort was partly a facade. This was not the birthplace of socialism but a social means to satisfy the disparate needs of individuals. The movement projected a romantic image of their proceedings: ‘science, with a secret moral charm, allays the animosity of parties, and pours a friendly feeling over the most discordant minds’.^[9] Not a statement of fact but of desire; not a description of the structure of social interaction so much as words of mediation. In reality the movement was based as much on bitter personal and community rivalry, and ambition, as on bonhomie. A few months after the above statement was made the societies of York and Hull were in conflict over the possession of finds from the Bielsbeck excavation, a feud further inflamed by the claims of Cambridge philosophers. A decade later the Whitby society also came into conflict with Cambridge over the loss of local fossils, and expressed its fury with quite remarkable vitriol.

Widespread political upheaval throughout the period would also spill over into society affairs:

And your Council rest satisfied, that, within their walls, at least, as within a neutral territory, all asperities of party feeling, where arising from political or other differences will die away, and be forgotten, and the same lively interchange of the courtesies of life be resumed and continued as heretofore.^[10]

Individuals too had their own motives for participation. The Scarborough society had great difficulty in bringing together the town’s fossil collecting interests. William Bean,^[11] its most prominent naturalist, was notoriously secretive and competitive. John Dunn,^[12] the society’s secretary, also considered putting personal fame before the welfare of his own society.

Not that dissent was to be discouraged; argument and debate were the tools of the philosopher and seen as a means to the truth. But members became attached to their personal visions, determined to win rather than simply participate. ‘Il aime beaucoup la disputation, peutêtre qu’il vent triompher coute que coute’^[13] wrote Phillips in reference to the Rev J. Bowman of Hull and his uncle William Richardson of Ferrybridge. Both William Salmond^[14] and George Young^[15] became fierce defenders of their own views on the formation of the Kirkdale Cave assemblage. Religious dogma also led to conflict. George Young could not divorce his ideas of the natural world from biblical interpretations. Both Young and Vernon became staunch defenders of their own institutions. Having modelled these in their own image they rapidly became aware of the impressive and enduring monument they had built to themselves.

The emergence of the provincial geologist

The philosophical societies arose in an age preoccupied with the discovery of the natural world. The study of natural history was seen as the antithesis of classical education which predominated in schools and which was seen by its critics as being too centred on the study of ‘dead languages’.^[16] There were also political motives for the promotion of natural history. In a period of increasing radicalism amongst the disenfranchised majority, it was viewed as an innocuous diversion: ‘The study of natural history we consider to be in an especial manner calculated for raising the character of the labouring classes of a community’.^[17] Such study could improve the ‘peasantry of England’.^[18]

Imperial expansion also gave the nation a passion for discovery. India, Borneo, South Africa, Australia and other poorly explored corners of the world were providing the British public with a broadening perception of nature. This was mirrored at home, where equally remarkable discoveries could be made. By the mid 1820s, the geology of Britain was being portrayed as the ‘epitome of the globe’;^[19] a microcosm of world geology. The regional philosopher, however, was participating in a social phenomenon rather than simply pursuing science. As a result interest in natural history was fickle and liable to fashion, and petty obsessions.^[20] Romanticism clouded objectivity as writers promoted nature’s ‘higher appeal… which goes to the heart and to the affections’^[21] suggesting that one should pursue emotion rather than reason.

There was also a tacit appreciation of the fundamental importance of geology to agricultural productivity, industrial prosperity and quality of life. But practical considerations were always secondary to purely intellectual, educational and emotional concerns. Pursuit of knowledge enabled the development of mental agility and research methodology. If these were not in themselves good reasons for philosophical interests then societies could appeal to the Christian values espoused by their theological leaders. Natural history and religion were deeply entwined; the embodiment of that complex mix of head and heart:

He who does not make himself acquainted with God from the consideration of nature, will scarcely acquire knowledge of him from any other source; for if we have no faith in the things which are seen, how should we believe those things which are not seen?^[22]

…the moral effect which arises from investigating the laws and meditating upon the works of nature. To trace the hand of creative wisdom, whether manifested in its sublimest operations, or in the most minute contrivances for the smallest objects of its care, has a tendency, beyond all other occupations, to elevate the mind of man.^[23]

In Yorkshire, as elsewhere, geology became a dominant interest of the new societies.

Geology not only discovers to us the awful revolutions which have in former ages changed the surface of the globe but it unfolds to our view the forms of strange and unknown animals buried in the different strata, presents us with the zoology and botany of the former world, and even enables us to contemplate the nature of the future revolutions which the globe we inhabit is destined to undergo.^[24]

During the three decades following 1820, geology had surprisingly enduring novelty. In 1825, John Phillips remarked with great excitement:

…the spreading knowledge and spirit of enquiry which distinguishes the present and will I hope adorn the future age. When I think on the amazing progress of Geology and all its collateral Sciences, within the last 20 or 30 years and see in our magazines notices of new discoveries in every quarter of the globe which concur in confirming and extending the laws of structure which obtain in this kingdom, I feel assured that we are rapidly hastening to a period when the Geologists of all countries will cordially unite in developing the history of the earth… May this spirit overspread the world.^[25]

Fourteen years later, the Hull philosophers could still refer to geology as ‘that new and interesting science’.^[26]

By 1820 geology was reaching wide public attention. It was physically and intellectually accessible and, as Conybeare and Phillips’ Outlines of the Geology of England and Wales revealed,^[27] in many regions rock sequences and their fossil and mineral products were extremely poorly known. This was particularly true of Yorkshire. Even so, this county would offer little potential reward for the doyens of geology, men such as William Buckland, Adam Sedgwick, Roderick Murchison and William Conybeare; its geology was thought to be known at least in broad terms and the pursuit of minor regional variations in detail offered little kudos. These men would soon be interested in grander concepts and more challenging questions; tackling much older rock successions and superimposing British geology on Europe. They were already moving from the simple study of detail to formulating the wider perspective. Such generalisations brought with them the greatest accolades and the most enduring memorials.

Geographical isolation had left Yorkshire removed from the centre of geological research. The result was not simply poorly known stratigraphy but also omission from wider research programmes which it was well placed to support, such as that to determine the vertebrate fauna of the Lias. Lyme Regis and other southern locales were both more convenient and better equipped to support science. Thus the county had space to make its own discoveries and to amass its own collections. The geology of Yorkshire, by default, became the province of the local observer. The value of local observation was, however, not beyond question. Robert Bakewell, whilst admitting the ‘erroneous inferences’ to which the local philosopher is liable, would not fault the value of ‘his record of facts’. Others, however, would take a less liberal view:

There is a certain prejudice more or less prevalent among the members of scientific societies in large cities, such as London or Paris, which makes them unwilling to believe that persons residing in provincial towns or in the country can do anything important for science; and it is strangely imagined, that a city geologist, who runs over a district in a few days, can make greater discoveries than any one residing in it, who is in the habit of daily and repeated observation.^[28]

Local philosophers had no doubts concerning the contribution they could make. Their efforts were aimed at national scientific advancement, at lifting the country out of its intellectual mire. They were not simply immersing themselves in provincialism. As the Hull men put it:

The united efforts of these institutions cannot assuredly be lost, but must produce a more general and earnest attention to those scientific pursuits which in this country have, till of late years, been too much neglected.^[29]

The Hull society was taking possession of the nation’s heritage and, in the spirit of protectionism which was to underpin the movement, sought to prevent this from being ransacked by foreigners:

As one evidence of this neglect it may be observed, that many of the fossils of our own coal-fields have been lately recognised and described, for the first time, in the work of a foreign author.^[30]

Friendly rivalry with the traditional enemy, France, was commonplace. George Cumberland, discussing fossil reptiles, echoed the Hull society’s worries – ‘the French nation will and must take the lead of us in this branch of natural history’.^[31] Other philosophical societies, such as that in York, were more open-minded and were keen to participate in international science. Where science was strongest, so was an appreciation of the French contribution to the current wave of interest in natural history.

A powerful stimulus has also been derived from the writings of the celebrated French naturalist, Baron Cuvier, whose discoveries have thrown a charm over this branch of science, and strewed the path of all succeeding geologists with flowers.^[32]

In Yorkshire there were two, more local, catalysts which brought about an upwelling of geological research at this time. The first was the discovery of a deposit of bones at Kirkdale Cave, near Kirkbymoorside, in the summer of 1821. These William Buckland^[33] was to transform into a living, breathing, colony of English hyenas. Kirkdale became a national sensation and thrust Yorkshire to the fore in this emerging science. What, from a reading of Conybeare and Phillips, might be perceived as simply the northern extension of an assemblage of rocks and fossils well known in southern Britain, now had unique attributes of its own. Equidistant from Whitby, Scarborough and York, Kirkdale formed the spark which lit the Yorkshire philosophical movement and provided collections which found their way into many of the museums emerging across Britain at this time. In Yorkshire these became holy relics.

The second catalyst would turn this spark of interest into scientific endeavour. This came from two immigrants to the county: William Smith,^[34] ‘the father of English geology’, and his nephew, John Phillips.^[35] Exploiting the desire to participate in geology, the two were to diversify from roaming surveyors and mapmakers into itinerant lecturers, curators and fieldguides. They were to take on the role of geological evangelists converting whole philosophical populations to this new scientific creed. They brought with them the geological skills and knowledge necessary to superimpose the geological order of the south onto the chaos of the north. These were skills possessed by no-one else in Yorkshire and extremely rare in provincial England. Smith was to become a Yorkshire celebrity and the county’s geological icon; the unassuming Phillips was to give them science and place Yorkshire on the geological map of Britain.

York claims the county

In constructing provincial monuments to science and culture, York, the county town, pursued the grandest plan. Hatched by three fairly mature members of York society: William Salmond, 53, a former gentleman soldier, James Atkinson,^[36] 63, a surgeon and Anthony Thorpe,^[37] 63, a solicitor, it at once embodied the professional classes which were to be its life blood. They also shared a common interest in Kirkdale Cave and each held important collections of material gathered during its excavation. These collections alone would form a significant cultural monument when united; they would become the foundation stone of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society.

If the Society was to be a success it would demand a leader of some social standing, of high intellect and vigour. They found such a man in the 33 year old Reverend William Vernon,^[38] the son of the Archbishop of York. The member of a large and influential family, he would, as its first president, rapidly make York a powerful philosophical force.^[39]

By December 1822 a printed prospectus was in circulation.^[40] Over the next few years the aspirations of the Society grew with its membership. Were they to build ‘a great Northern Museum’ or a more modest county institution?^[41] In the end the latter view prevailed. However, even this was considerably more ambitious than that adopted by its neighbours, some of whom would see such interests as threatening. Raising funds by subscription, and making do with inadequate rented accommodation in the meantime, the Society’s premises were completed in May 1829. The grandest of all the county’s museums, the Yorkshire Museum with its 8 apartments for the display of collections, 10 other rooms and lecture hall, was set to dominate the region’s philosophical movement.^[42]

The Society’s prospectus expressed two primary objectives: to establish a library and ‘a more particular object… to elucidate the Geology of Yorkshire’. It was recognised that the county held an extraordinary wealth of rocks, fossils and minerals ‘so imperfectly and doubtfully determined’. Conybeare and Phillips’ Outlines clearly demonstrated how little was known. Vernon was a close friend of Conybeare, he was also an Oxford graduate and would certainly have been indoctrinated by his other advisor, William Buckland.^[43] The means by which this ‘elucidation’ might come about was also clearly established in the prospectus. The Society was to place itself at the centre of a countywide network: ‘the combined observation of many individuals, in their respective neighbourhoods, and by a contribution of specimens from every part of Yorkshire to a Central Museum’. The approach mirrors that adopted by Buckland himself, who epitomised the networking geologist. It also imitated the mode of operation of the Geological Society of London, which could boast the liveliest debating chamber in Britain and a museum at the centre of geological progress.^[44] Collecting, arrangement and display alone would illustrate the county’s geology; though members were not slow to publish the results of their discoveries.

Geology, to a collecting institution, really meant fossils and these became its most sought after acquisitions. Material was being added to the Kirkdale collection even before the prospectus was printed. ‘Specimens of the Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, Ammonites, and other Fossils of the Alum Shale, and of the various Vegetable Impressions, from the districts of the Iron Stone, and Coal’ were now entering the collections. This was not a random list of wants, it revealed those elements of the fossil world then considered most significant. The Alum Shale was theoretically capable of producing fossils as varied and spectacular as those now being recovered in the richest of all British localities, Lyme Regis. At this time Lyme was the focus of extensive research to discern the different species of ‘crocodile’ entombed in the fossil record. Vegetable impressions were also prized fossils: the origins and stratigraphic limits of coal deposits were hotly debated. They also gave a rare glimpse of a lost antediluvial landscape. The prospectus embodied a collecting and research policy for the Yorkshire Philosophical Society which was to be pursued with vigour, and in priority over other interests, at least until 1835. Unlike a number of its contemporaries which, perhaps in reaction, were founded on a policy of protectionism, the Yorkshire Philosophical Society became, from the very beginning, a geological research school.

Geology would dominate the new museum’s exhibits, other collections would have to wait until funds became available before they too would be suitably displayed. The new museum immediately exhibited 10,000 fossils and rocks, stratigraphically arranged, and 2000 minerals, arranged in chemical series.^[45] The extreme domination of geology within the Society’s affairs is apparent from its lists of acquisitions. The proportion of different kinds of object acquired in 1826 are typical for the period:^[46]

Geology (i.e. primarily fossils) 1600 specimens

Minerals 128

Natural History 79

Antiquarian 97

Library 200

Such single-mindedness was perhaps essential if a society was to establish a national profile.

Our geologists have done themselves and the County great credit by their labours. They have provided us with one of the very best Geological Rooms in the United Kingdom. I believe there is not another room in the kingdom where the student of Geology with an elementary book in his hands could with equal facility become acquainted with the science of Geology…^[47]

But many of the residents of York saw no attraction in these rather pretentious gatherings, and still less in geology. They had told the Rev. William Taylor, ‘Oh! I care not for stones and bones!’^[48] The Yorkshire Philosophical Society was becoming a geological clique. ‘Local circumstances and advantages have made geology a leading object among us’ explained Vernon. The reasons ‘were to be found in the poverty of the subject and the facility of accumulating specimens. Other branches of natural history were somewhat more[?] expensive perhaps – and it may be difficult to find curators who will work or collectors who will give’. Phillips, who of all the Society’s members could most accurately be called a geologist, felt that one could not pursue this field of interest without also understanding other aspects of science. ‘Let them call us as they please a “Geological Society” still we must have extensive views’.

Whitby digs in

In Whitby, York’s countywide ambitions were a cause for concern; its expressed collecting priorities were most easily met from the coastal town’s hinterland. With a population of less than 10,000^[49] Whitby had little hope of competing with York in terms of size, class or wealth. However, its ammonite emblem signified a town abounding in that most important of philosophical commodities, fossils:

the facilities offered for establishing the museum in Whitby are such as few places enjoy, especially in the fossil department. Whitby is the chief town of a district abounding in petrifactions.^[50]

Like Lyme Regis, but on a smaller scale, Whitby was the Yorkshire capital of what would later be known as geotourism. Sedgwick, Buckland, Smith and Phillips,^[51] and numerous others had already experienced the draw of its immense fossil wealth. York, the county’s true capital, wished to be its centre in science also but, by comparison, it lay in a palaeontological desert.

Like other societies then establishing themselves, Whitby’s would-be philosophers began canvassing for a local society in November 1822. Support was immediate, and the first meeting took place in the Town Hall the following January. The inducement to early action came in a statement suggesting that collections already existing in the town were available ‘on very reasonable terms’. It was not unusual for local collectors to sell rather than donate collections to these embryonic societies. Traders in fossils were already well established in all the main towns along the coast. The collections of gentlemen invariably represented considerable financial investment, material having been purchased from these dealers or from the many faceless men and women who worked the cliffs for jet, lime or building materials, or supplemented another livelihood with sales of fossils. Even those naturalists, such as William Bean and John Williamson,^[52] who undertook fieldwork themselves still saw a collection as a financial asset. With the formation of these new local bodies, many collectors seized the opportunity to place these investments in the marketplace. Competition for such collections was high, particularly in a town known for its fossils. The local society needed to act rapidly:

On this account the sooner such an institution is set on foot, so much the better; for if the business be delayed, some of the collections at present existing in Whitby, may be sold to enrich the institutions of this kind now forming at Hull, York and other places.^[53]

The Yorkshire Philosophical Society had risen from a desire to further understanding; in contrast, establishment of the Whitby society was reactionary and territorial. In this Whitby would not be alone, motivation for all the Yorkshire societies contained at least some element of protectionism. In Whitby, however, this was to be taken to the extreme and even extended to fossils still interred in the cliffs. Whilst the Society would be keen to promote the value of its collections for study and amusement, these were merely by-products of its protectionist stance. By keeping the best finds in the town, it sought to attract scientific ‘strangers’ and the nobility, and by this means ‘make it rank among the towns which patronise literature and the arts’.^[54] In 1847, George Young, the Society’s guiding light, died knowing this objective had been achieved.

Many strangers^[55] have been brought here by the attractions of our Museum, and when it is elevated to its high rank now in prospect, as possessing one of the finest sets of fossil organic remains of Saurian animals in the world, its attractions will be doubly powerful, and the advantages resulting to the Town and neighbourhood proportionally great.^[56]

In addition to Young, the Museum was supported by other keen geologists, in particular John Bird^[57] and Richard Ripley.^[58] Bird, an artist and keen fossil collector, was co-author of A Geological Survey of the Yorkshire Coast published in 1822. He was also one of William Smith’s earliest acquaintances on the coast. Richard Ripley was a surgeon who increasingly derived an income from dealing in fossils as the Whitby market developed in the 1830s and 1840s. With his brother, John, he donated numerous important fossils to the Museum. It was Young, however, who secured the Museum’s reputation in fossils and who would be a perfect match for William Vernon’s voracious collecting methods.

The town’s maritime connections also meant that it would have no difficulty in attracting exotica, but such items would never surpass the Society’s interest in local fossils. Like other Yorkshire societies, it was in danger of becoming a geological clique. Locals had been given a single opportunity to see the Museum, not long after its establishment, in order to decide whether to join. But with inappropriate apartments, and inadequate and poorly organised collections, the initiative backfired. They were given a second chance following the opening of the purpose built Baths, Museum and Library in 1826. Visitors would still have no difficulty in discerning the Museum’s singular strength: ‘Museum half-filled, his birds execrably stuffed. Shells few. Insects paltry. Fossils of the Lias superb. Minerals good’.^[59]

The Society also attempted to gain support by publishing a critique of the Museum, blaming its problems on those who failed to support it and taking the opportunity to publicise its assets.^[60] The letter was published in Young’s magazine, the Whitby Panorama, from ‘a proprietor of the museum’ in 1827 quoting a widely held view that the ‘“Museum” is only a useless collection of rubbish, cobble stones stolen from the highways, and knick knacks, &c &c’.^[61] The letter could have been written by Young himself. Such arguments were to be countered by reasserting the museum’s strengths:

a fossil crocodile, the delight and envy of antiquarians; an Ichthyosaurus, in fine preservation; organic remains of the quadruped and finny tribes; a positive proof if one was wanted of the deluge; an excellent collection of ammonites or snake stones of every kind; marine shells, fossilised, found in Glaisedale quarries, 15 miles from the seashore; a complete series of geological and mineralogical specimens, offering every facility to the student.

However, if such a list meant nothing to readers ignorant or questioning of the philosophical merits of such assemblages, they would have little difficulty in understanding the language of money:

I think it will not be going too far, when I aver, that those who now attempt to “laugh us to scorn” will express no trifling degree of astonishment, that such a collection should have been made in so short a time and which may now be fairly estimated to be worth £400 to £500.

The Society wished for support; not to provide a public service. In 1841, it made a trial of free admission, but this proved too popular – 100 people turned up in one day. A private society could not cope with such numbers.^[62]

Hull’s lost momentum

Hull Literary and Philosophical Society also formed as a result of moves to prevent the loss of a local collection.^[63] Others in the town saw this as an opportunity; William Hey Dikes^[64] almost immediately sold his collection of fossils, shells, birds and so on, to the Society at a cost of £100. Dikes, a prime mover in the Society’s formation, then became its curator and thus maintained control over his own collection.^[65]

Despite an early interest in geology as demonstrated by the number of geological lectures given, Hull was not well placed to become a geological power. It appears to have pursued wider philosophical interests than its counterparts to the north. Amongst these lecturers were the locals, John Alderson^[66] and Dikes. The Society was also keen to book itinerant lecturers such as Dr John Harwood^[67] who, exploiting the widespread interest in comparative anatomy, gave a course of lectures on extant and extinct vertebrates. In 1824, Smith and Phillips lectured on the study of geology using the local collections. They arrived in Hull having converted Scarborough to the cause; their effect in Hull was equally inspirational.^[68] These lectures were so popular that door receipts and new memberships alone covered the fees.

In January 1825 Phillips also arranged the Society’s collections stratigraphically. This too caused considerable excitement amongst local philosophers; as if by magic Phillips could create order from chaos. The derivation of stratigraphic order from organic remains still had considerable novelty. The philosophers of Hull and the other Yorkshire towns had never before seen the practical implications of this.

By its own reckoning the Hull Society soon believed its local geological collections ‘very excellent’;^[69]collections strengthened by recent purchases. These local collections were, however, severely restricted stratigraphically. Strengths lay in Chalk fossils and those from the Jurassic rocks of South Cave and Scarborough; most other parts of the stratigraphic column remained only poorly represented.

Phillips returned in successive years to lecture on coal and on the natural history of fossil animals, but despite the quality of delivery – they could ‘scarcely be spoken of in too high terms’ – by 1826 such lectures met with financial loss.^[70] Without the earnest geological mission of Whitby or York, or a colony of enthusiasts, geology could not retain its popularity. As lecturer’s fees rose, the Society could no longer afford to commission courses for fear of making a loss. Without the external input which fired up that initial enthusiasm the study of local geology went into decline.

According to Richard Owen, who saw the collection in the late 1830’s, the institution’s most important specimens were its remarkable skeletons derived from the town’s trade in whale products. But even minor geological collections could turn up important specimens; Edward Charlesworth,^[71] for example, located a fossil shark’s tooth in the collections which he wished to figure in his London Geological Journal. However, it should be recognised that Charlesworth selected specimens for this purpose not so much on the object’s scientific merit as on the ability of the owning organisation to contribute to the publication costs.^[72]

In 1829, the circumstances surrounding the death of its treasurer thrust the Society into a debt of more than £156 – a considerable sum for a private society.^[73] It became a tenant of the new Hull and Sculcoates Public Rooms built in 1831, only acquiring its own building in 1854.^[74]

Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society, despite an early link with James de Carle Sowerby and lectures from Phillips, also appears to have had less vigorous geological interests. This seems to have changed in the mid 1840s when the Society acquired the collections of the Museum of the Geological and Polytechnic Society of the West Riding of Yorkshire.^[75] This gave it one of the best coal plant collections in northern Britain. Later in the decade it also gathered up numerous ichthyosaurs and an ‘Irish elk’, no doubt taking advantage of the then greatly expanded market in these fossils.

Allies in Scarborough

Scarborough Literary and Philosophical Society was not founded on this first wave of interest as it swept through the county. The situation in Scarborough was more complex, confounded by internal indecision, individualism and politicking from the county’s men of influence. The first attempt at founding a society came in 1820 when Smith and Phillips were in town; the former had returned to Scarborough for the benefit of his wife whose mental health had deteriorated.^[76] Smith attended a meeting at John Dunn’s house, together with Thomas Hinderwell,^[77] owner of the town’s most important collection, William Travis, a keen botanist, and William Bean, the town’s most noted naturalist. The meeting had been called in the hope of forming a museum around Hinderwell’s collection. Hinderwell was then 76 years old and there were concerns regarding the future of his collection. Its fate, however, had already been determined – it was to be left to his nephew, the Scarborough solicitor, Thomas Duesberry.^[78]

With this failure, the York men moved in and patronised Hinderwell in the hope of enticing away his hoard, and also patronised other Scarborough collectors. As the geological importance of the town became established in the middle of the decade, it became the most important outpost in Vernon’s fossil collecting network.^[79] Fears that the establishment of a society in Scarborough might undermine the York society by removing its access to this rich source of fossils, led to pressure being put on locals to prevent a society from forming. Some of this pressure must have been felt by Sir John Johnstone,^[80] of Hackness Hall, a supporter of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society but who would also become patron to the new society.

In 1822, Scarborough was not seen as a particularly noteworthy locality for organic remains. The Speeton Clay was unexplored, the Gristhorpe plant beds unknown, the stratigraphy of Castle Hill uninterpreted. Indeed many beds, later avidly exploited by fossil collectors, were at that time thought to be barren. Like Whitby, Scarborough had also produced an early account of local geology. The Rev. F. Kendall’s Mineralogy and Rocks including Organic Remains of Scarborough, had been published anonymously in 1816.^[81]

The situation changed in 1824 when Smith and Phillips presented a series of lectures on geology at the Town Hall. These lectures inspired widespread interest in the subject and fossil collecting took off but remained in the hands of individuals without the formation of a society. Between lectures the two spent their days geologizing along the Scarborough cliffs often in the company of locals, as well as examining and identifying their collections. In the process they introduced a mode of philosophical enquiry which had largely been missing from the town. ‘A spirit of geological research began to spread among the residents and visitors of Scarborough that promised the happiest fruits’.^[82] John Dunn became a fossil collector overnight. William Bean, who had been collecting British shells since 1814,^[83] now began to take an interest in fossils. His cousin, John Williamson, was probably the locality’s most dedicated fossil collector ‘when it was too wet for him to work at his trade, in his employer’s gardens, he used to set off fossil hunting!’^[84] He took up fossil collecting when Bean, his employer, sold his gardens; he then had more time for leisure. He collected fossils, shells, insects and birds.^[85]

Smith and Phillips were regularly in Scarborough during this period, Smith and his wife stayed with the Williamsons for some considerable time in 1826, and it seems likely that they attended the first meeting of the Scarborough Literary and Philosophical Society in the following year.^[86] Having been slow to establish itself it made up for this with the rapid erection of a purpose built museum; within a year £1000 had been subscribed towards the building. Like its counterpart in York, it was constructed of Hackness Stone, donated by Johnstone. The diminutive Scarborough Museum was designed to achieve the most perfect stratigraphic arrangement of fossils. William Smith had suggested that a circular building would best suit this need, and thus the remarkable Rotunda was constructed, 32ft in diameter and 36ft high.

The fossils, which are very numerous are arranged on sloping shelves, in the order of their strata, showing at one view, the whole series of the kingdom. A horizontal shelf below sustains the generic arrangement of fossil shells… the collection of fossils… is one of the most perfect in England.^[87]

It would be wrong to interpret Smith as the architect of this museum but undoubtedly the Scarborough philosophers made the best possible use of Smith’s ‘stores of knowledge, readiness to communicate, and estimable private character’.^[88] The Rotunda is a physical representation of Smith’s law of strata identified by fossils, and forms the most impressive monument to his life. Interestingly, Johnstone became both patron to the Society and to Smith himself.^[89]

John Dunn, representing the Scarborough society at the opening of the Yorkshire Museum, quelled concerns that his society posed any threat to the objectives of the York philosophers. Unlike the York society’s relationship with the Whitby philosophers he felt these two societies could work together: ‘I would have the Yorkshire Society pre-eminent; but when I desire to see it pre-eminent, I would not have it exclusive’.^[90] He went on:

Many persons are not aware of the extensive means of supply which we possess at Scarborough; they may not be aware, that our resources in ancient history are as boundless as the ocean which reaches our shores. The neighbourhood of York is very deficient in geological specimens, and must depend on its extremities, on the assistance it derives from the provinces.

In return for access to its fossil wealth the Scarborough society only asked for ‘productive labour’ to disinter and interpret the organic remains.

Elsewhere in Britain other philosophical societies were being founded around the fashionable science of geology. Bath Literary and Scientific Institution was established in 1824, and with William Lonsdale^[91] as curator, established a small geological museum. The Bristol Institution and associated Literary and Philosophical Society had grown up around the donation of a fine fossil ichthyosaur skeleton contributed by its members on the basis ‘that it should be received back “if no museum be formed”’.^[92] Amongst its supporters were William Conybeare, Johann Miller, William Sanders and Henry De la Beche.^[93]

Eminent metropolitan geologists, such as Murchison, looking to the provinces and particularly to the North would see the emergence of a valuable provincial network of institutions peopled by knowledgeable curators, and containing collections ordered according to the latest stratigraphic principles. One no longer needed to rely upon raw data in the field in order to discern local geology. A scientific traveller could simply compare the museums of Whitby and Scarborough with similar institutions in Bath and Bristol.^[94] Together they formed an index to the geology of England.

^[1] Torrens (1990a:181) demonstrates that philosophical societies were not exclusively the product of rising industrialism. Certainly, most societies had a significant number of members from commerce though, with the exception of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society and a few others, perhaps not from those industries naturally associated with late eighteenth century – early nineteenth century industrial expansion.

^[2] Many early philosophical societies only came to establish collections in the 1820s – the Bristol, Cornwall and Canterbury societies, for example. Torrens (pers. comm.) suggests that collection building for these societies may have been a development of this decade. It is possible that these societies looked to new models, such as the Geological Society – the liveliest learned society of them all – which also held a respectable museum at its heart.

^[3] Allen (1976:158). See Lyell (1826) for a contemporary overview of the movement.

^[4] HL&PS (1825) Annual Report, 1 & 2.

^[5] Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society held its first meeting on 6 April 1821 (Clark 1924:152).

^[6] Porter (1922:10) gives details of the Sheffield Society. The official dates of establishment vary. Whitby, for example, would record this as 1823 (see Browne 1946), but all were involved in planning meetings in the previous November. Most had been discussing the formation of such organisations for some considerable time.

^[7] WL&PS (1826) Annual Report, 3.

^[8] HL&PS (1825) Annual Report, 1 & 2.

^[9] YPS (1829) Annual Report for 1828. Such expressions were universal and often borrowed; Loudon (1828:7) writing on natural history, for example, emphasised ‘its tendency to universal intercourse, civilisation and peace’.

^[10] WL&PS (1831) Annual Report, 9.

^[11] William Bean (1787- 22 December 1826) of Scarborough, self-sufficient conchologist and fossil collector, cousin of John Williamson (but not of William Smith (Torrens pers. comm.) as suggested by Woodward 1904:265; Cleevely 1983:51). See also McMillan & Greenwood (1972); Lambrecht, Quenstedt & Quenstedt (1938:27); Pyrah (1988:85).

^[12] John Dunn stalwart of the Scarborough society, drowned in the summer of 1834, whilst in Norway. Dikes to Phillips, 26 July 1834, OUM Phillips1834/11.

^[13] OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 19. 30 May 1828.

^[14] Colonel William Salmond (1769-1838) of York, former gentleman soldier, involved in the excavation of Kirkdale Cave. See Orange (1973:12); Pyrah (1988:17).

^[15] George Young (15 July 1777 – 8 May 1848), Presbyterian minister of Whitby with fundamentalist views, local author who with John Bird wrote A Geological Survey of the Yorkshire Coast published in 1822. See Browne (1946:18-24); Cleevely (1983:320).

^[16] Anon. (1829:475).

^[17] Loudon (1828:5).

^[18] B. (1828: 10).

^[19] Fitton, W.H. Presidential Address, 15 February 1828. Proc. Geol. Soc, 1, 58.

^[20] The men of Yorkshire, for example, like Charles Darwin (Desmond and Moore 1991:57), participated in the national beetle craze of the late 1820s. In the evening of 16 June 1828, John Phillips of York, John Williamson of Scarborough and John Edward Lee of Hull took 90 Broscus cephalotus, a large sand dwelling predatory ground beetle, in half an hour. Most fossil collectors also collected other natural history specimens at this time. By 1835, the beetle craze was over and the resulting collections were passed to the philosophical societies. OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 19. 1828.

^[21] B. (1828a:13).

^[22] Loudon (1828:21) quoting from Carl Linnaeus Reflections on the Study of Nature.

^[23] YPS (1829) Annual Report for 1828.

^[24] Loudon (1828:5).

^[25] Phillips, Hull to Goldie or Copsie, York, 7 January 1825, in Melmore (1943a).

^[26] HL&PS (1839) Annual Report, 16.

^[27] Conybeare and Phillips (1822). In William Fitton’s opinion this book ‘had an effect to which nothing… can be compared’. Presidential Address to the Geological Society, 15 February 1828, Proc. Geol. Soc., 1, 59.

^[28] Bakewell (1830:9) discussing the Establishment’s initial resistance to Gideon Mantell’s discoveries.

^[29] HL&PS (1828) Annual Report, 5.

^[30] A reference to Brongniart’s Histoire des Végétaux Fossiles. HL&PS (1828) Annual Report, 5. The Hull men may have borrowed and adapted a contemporary view given by William Fitton in his Presidential Address to the Geological Society, 15 February 1828, Proc. Geol. Soc., 1, 53, though Fitton’s view was less one of nationalism, more one of admiration and emulation.

^[31] Cumberland (1829:348).

^[32] Taylor (1830:17).

^[33] William Buckland (12 March 1784 – 24 August 1856), Reader in Geology and Mineralogy, becoming Professor of Geology in 1820, at the University of Oxford. Flamboyant geologist, who in the 1820s was probably the most influential British figure in the study of fossils.

^[34] William Smith (23 March 1769 – 28 August 1839), a surveyor and engineer who lived in the vicinity of Bath and then London, who recognised the stratigraphic value of fossils and produced a number of pioneering geological maps. One of the most significant figures in early nineteenth century geology but never part of the scientific Establishment. Through ‘unlucky speculation… he became a wanderer in the North of England’ for seven years from 1819 having lost virtually all his worldly possessions and spent 10 weeks in a debtors prison (see Phillips 1844:91; Grayson 1983:23).

^[35] John Phillips (25 December 1800 – 24 April 1874). Orphaned at an early age and raised by his uncle, he received a good classical education with extra tuition in natural history from Benjamin Richardson (1759? – 1832), of Farleigh near Bath. In 1822 Phillips was an unknown, though his knowledge of geology probably surpassed that of most of the country’s geological alumni.

^[36] James Atkinson (1759 – 1839) See Barnet (1972); Orange (1973:13); Pyrah (1988:17).

^[37] Anthony Thorpe (1759 – 1829) See Orange (1973:12); Pyrah (1988:18).

^[38] William Venables Vernon (1789 – 1871) to which the name Harcourt was added in 1830. See Owen (1972); Orange (1973:13); Cleevely (1983:143); Pyrah (1988:18).

^[39] ‘The President… has nursed it and watched it and raised it to its present high station; to whom rather to any individual the society feels deepest obligation’, Francis Cholmeley’s toast at dinner following the general meeting of Tuesday, 7 March 1826, OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 13. Diary 1825-26.

^[40] YPS prospectus, 6 January 1823; subsequently reprinted in YPS (1824) Annual Report for 1823; as well as in Orange (1973:39) and Pyrah (1988:23).

^[41] YPS (1826) Annual Report for 1825.

^[42] YPS (1830) Annual Report for 1829.

^[43] Morrell (1989:322) has given an interesting perspective on the role of Conybeare in developing the York society’s mission to fill the geological desiderata exposed by his book. However, with regard to collecting it was certainly Buckland who provided the key influence.

^[44] Rudwick (1985:18); Moore et al (1991:53).

^[45] Anon. (1830).

^[46] YPS (1827) Annual Report for 1826.

^[47] Thomas Allis speaking at the YPS Annual General Meeting in 1834, quoted in Orange (1973:40).

^[48] From Phillips’ record of speeches at a YPS dinner, 7 March 1826, OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 13.

^[49] Dowson (1854).

^[50] From a letter circulated to Whitby residents dated 28 November 1822, reprinted in Browne (1949).

^[51] OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 19. 1828 Draft of Illustrations of the Geology of Yorkshire volume 1.

^[52] John Williamson (1784 – 1877), a gardener and keen fossil collector of Scarborough who became the local society’s honorary curator. Father of William Crawford Williamson (24 November 1816 – 23 June 1895) who rose to become a Manchester professor and leading biologist and palaeontologist.

^[53] From a circular letter to Whitby residents, November 1822, reprinted in Browne (1949).

^[54] ibid.

^[55] These were defined as visitors from more than 10 miles distant. WL&PS (1825) Annual Report, 2.

^[56] WL&PS (1847) Annual Report, 25.

^[57] John Bird (1768- February 1829), see Browne (1946:128).

^[58] Richard Ripley (d.1857), see Browne (1946:129).

^[59] Phillips’ notes from a visit to the Whitby Museum on Thursday 26 June 1828, OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 19.

^[60] Exploitation of the local media in this way became common practice amongst museum activists, see, for example, Gill & Knell (1988); Knell (1996).

^[61] Anon. (1827d:251-2).

^[62] WL&PS (1841) Annual Report, 19.

^[63] The collection of Mr W.W. Hyde which was put up for sale in 1822 at a price of £100.

^[64] William Hey Dikes (1792 – 10 January 1864) of Hull and then ‘a banker of Wakefield’.

^[65] This was at least compensation for the speed with which he was paid – after seven year’s Dikes had only received just over £17. HL&PS (1832) Annual Report, 7 (for 1830).

^[66] John Alderson (c.1757-1829), senior physician at Hull General Infirmary who published ‘Geological observations in the vicinity of Hull and Beverley’, Nicholson’s J. Not to be confused with his son, James Alderson (1794-1882), physician and president of the local society who took on many of his father’s roles. Sheahan (1866:643).

^[67] Dr John Harwood MD FLS FRS (c1794 – 1854), in 1829 he was Professor of Natural History at the Royal Institution.

^[68] Phillips, Hull to Goldie or Copsie, York, 7 January 1825, in Melmore (1943a).

^[69] HL&PS (1826) Annual Report, 3.

^[70] HL&PS (1826) Annual Report, 3.

^[71] Edward Charlesworth (5 September 1813 – 28 July 1893), curator and dealer in fossils with a particular interest in Tertiary fossils, who wrote and edited a number of pamphlets and magazines.

^[72] See chapter 11.

^[73] HL&PS (1832) Annual Report, 6 (for 1829).

^[74] Hull Royal Institution.

^[75] Also referred to as the Yorkshire Geological and Polytechnic Society. This Museum’s primary objective was the stratigraphy of the coal districts and the collection of coal plants.

^[76] Phillips (1844:94).

^[77] Thomas Hinderwell, antiquarian (1744-1825).

^[78] Anon. (1829:474); Williamson (1896:11).

^[79] See Morrell (1989:323) for Conybeare’s influence here.

^[80] Sir John Vanden Bempde Johnstone (28 August 1799 – 25 February 1869), ‘Liberal’ MP for Yorkshire from 1830 and for Scarborough for most of the period from 1832 to his death in a hunting accident. He had previously been MP for Weymouth and Melcombe Regis. ‘A sincere friend’ to geology and natural history. Boase (1892); Baker (1882:448).

^[81] Kendall (1816). Buckland, for example, appears not to have known who the author was.

^[82] Phillips (1844:107).

^[83] In a letter from Bean to Phillips, Friday 20 September 1833, Bean recalls that he had been collecting for 19 years, OUM Phillips 1833/9.

^[84] William Crawford Williamson, Manchester to Phillips, Oxford, 8 November 1865, OUM Phillips 1865/220.

^[85] Baker (1882:456).

^[86] 16 October 1827 OUM Phillips Box 82 folder 17. Notebook 1827.

^[87] Anon. (1829:475).

^[88] SL&PS Minutes of Council, Monday 14 October 1839.

^[89] Smith acted as land steward on Johnstone’s estate at nearby Hackness from 1828 to 1834.

^[90] John Dunn, 2 February 1830, reported in the Yorkshire Gazette, undated cutting in the YPS Daybook of John Phillips.

^[91] William Lonsdale (9 September 1794 – 11 November 1871), a proficient palaeontologist and field geologist who went on to work for the Geological Society in various capacities. See Torrens (1990a) for Bath’s philosophical societies.

^[92] Anon. (1836:555). See also Taylor (1994). Torrens (1995:262) gives the origins of this specimen.

^[93] William Daniel Conybeare (June 1787 – 12 August 1857) undertook pioneering work on the Lias vertebrate fauna in the early 1820s, and was an accomplished field geologist (see North 1935); Johann Miller (c1779- 25 May 1830), curator of the Bristol Institution, and one of the most respected curators of the 1820s, produced a monograph on Crinoids, and was also a fossil collector in his own right; William Sanders (12 January 1799 – 12 November 1875), honorary curator of the Bristol society for many years, a corn merchant in partnership with his brother; Henry Thomas De la Beche (10 February 1796 – 13 April 1855) was later to found the Geological Survey and play an important role in professionalising geology, see McCartney (1977).

^[94] Murchison, Presidential Address, 17 February 1832, Proc. Geol. Soc. Lond., 1, 378.

Simon Knell

Books and essays by Simon Knell