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Anthropological inquiry has often been considered an agent of intellectual secularization. Not least is this so in the sphere of religion, where anthropological accounts have often been taken to represent the triumph of naturalism. This metanarrative, however, fails to recognize that naturalistic explanations could sometimes be espoused for religious purposes and in defence of confessional creeds. This essay examines two late nineteenth-century figures – Alexander Winchell in the United States and William Robertson Smith in Britain – who found in anthropological analysis resources to bolster rather than undermine faith. In both cases these individuals found themselves on the receiving end of ecclesiastical censure and were dismissed from their positions at church-governed institutions. But their motivation was to vindicate divine revelation, in Winchell's case from the physical anthropology of human origins and in Smith's from the cultural anthropology of Semitic ritual.
Built in 1769 as a private observatory for King George III, Kew Observatory was taken over in 1842 by the British Association for the Advancement of Science (BAAS). It was then quickly transformed into what some claimed to be a ‘physical observatory’ of the sort proposed by John Herschel – an observatory that gathered data in a wide range of physical sciences, including geomagnetism and meteorology, rather than just astronomy. Yet this article argues that the institution which emerged in the 1840s was different in many ways from that envisaged by Herschel. It uses a chronological framework to show how, at every stage, the geophysicist and Royal Artillery officer Edward Sabine manipulated the project towards his own agenda: an independent observatory through which he could control the geomagnetic and meteorological research, including the ongoing ‘Magnetic Crusade’. The political machinations surrounding Kew Observatory, within the Royal Society and the BAAS, may help to illuminate the complex politics of science in early Victorian Britain, particularly the role of ‘scientific servicemen’ such as Sabine. Both the diversity of activities at Kew and the complexity of the observatory's origins make its study important in the context of the growing field of the ‘observatory sciences’.
This paper explores the assimilation of the flightless dodo into early modern natural history. The dodo was first described by Dutch sailors landing on Mauritius in 1598, and became extinct in the 1680s or 1690s. Despite this brief period of encounter, the bird was a popular subject in natural-history works and a range of other genres. The dodo will be used here as a counterexample to the historical narratives of taxonomic crisis and abrupt shifts in natural history caused by exotic creatures coming to Europe. Though this bird had a bizarre form, early modern naturalists integrated the dodo and other flightless birds through several levels of conceptual categorization, including the geographical, morphological and symbolic. Naturalists such as Charles L'Ecluse produced a set of typical descriptive tropes that helped make up the European dodo. These long-lived images were used for a variety of symbolic purposes, demonstrated by the depiction of the Dutch East India enterprise in Willem Piso's 1658 publication. The case of the dodo shows that, far from there being a dramatic shift away from emblematics in the seventeenth century, the implicit symbolic roles attributed to exotic beasts by naturalists constructing them from scant information and specimens remained integral to natural history.
Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker (1817–1911), botanist, explorer, and director of the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, is chiefly remembered as a close friend and colleague of Darwin, his publications on geographical distribution of plants supporting Darwin's theory of evolution by natural selection. In 1839 Hooker became an assistant surgeon on HMS Erebus during Ross' Antarctic expedition. The boat wintered along the New Zealand coast, Tasmania and the Falkland Islands, enabling Hooker to collect over 700 plant species. Drawing heavily on Hooker's illustrated Flora Novae Zelandiae (1854–1855), this two-volume work (1864–1867) contains a comprehensive list of New Zealand plant species as well as those of the Chatham, Kermadec, Auckland, Campbell and Macquarrie Islands. As the first major study of New Zealand flora, Hooker's handbook remained the authority on the subject for half a century. Volume 2 continues Hooker's meticulous description and categorization of New Zealand flora.
There's just no deleting Darwin, not really. Even Peter Bowler, the title to whose delightful book purports to do just that, is quick to add in the subtitle that he is only imagining the history of science without Darwin. The sixty-three essays written by a like number of scholars, Bowler among them (some articles are co-authored and a handful of authors have contributed to more than one essay) in the recently published Cambridge Encyclopedia of Darwin and Evolutionary Thought bear additional witness to the fact that Darwin's ideas continue to exert a powerful influence on historians, philosophers and biologists alike.