Abstract
This essay interrogates the motives of eighteenth-century European naturalists to alternately show and hide their laboring-class fossil suppliers. Focusing on rare moments of heightened visibility, I ask why gentlemen naturalists occasionally, deliberately, and even performatively made visible the marginalized science workers on whom they crucially depended but more typically ignored or effaced. Comparing archival fragments from elite works of natural history across a considerable stretch of time and space, including Italy, France, Switzerland, Britain, Ireland, Germany, Spain, and French, Spanish, and British America, this essay sketches the contours of a disparate group of people I term ‘earth workers’: laborers of very low social rank, such as quarrymen, shepherds, ditch-diggers, and fieldworkers, whose daily labor in and on the earth enabled the discovery of subterranean specimens. At the same time, archival traces of laboring lives ultimately reveal more about the naturalists who created them than they do about the marginalized laborers whose lives they faintly record. Cultural norms of elite masculinity and scholarly self-presentation in the Republic of Letters help us to understand why some eighteenth-century naturalists felt they had to publicly disavow a form of labor that would come to be recognized as a crucial and skilled part of scientific fieldwork in the modern era. Compared to other kinds of invisible labor that historians of science have brought into view, the social meaning of earth work rendered it uniquely visible in some ways and uniquely invisible in others.
| Original language | English (US) |
|---|---|
| Pages (from-to) | 245-274 |
| Number of pages | 30 |
| Journal | History of Science |
| Volume | 58 |
| Issue number | 3 |
| DOIs | |
| State | Published - Sep 1 2020 |
Funding
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-6654-9202 Barnett Lydia Department of History, Northwestern University, Evanston, IL, USA Lydia Barnett, Department of History, Northwestern University, 1881 Sheridan Rd., Evanston, IL 60208-0001, USA. Email: [email protected] 10 2019 0073275319874982 © The Author(s) 2019 2019 SAGE Publications This essay interrogates the motives of eighteenth-century European naturalists to alternately show and hide their laboring-class fossil suppliers. Focusing on rare moments of heightened visibility, I ask why gentlemen naturalists occasionally, deliberately, and even performatively made visible the marginalized science workers on whom they crucially depended but more typically ignored or effaced. Comparing archival fragments from elite works of natural history across a considerable stretch of time and space, including Italy, France, Switzerland, Britain, Ireland, Germany, Spain, and French, Spanish, and British America, this essay sketches the contours of a disparate group of people I term ‘earth workers’: laborers of very low social rank, such as quarrymen, shepherds, ditch-diggers, and fieldworkers, whose daily labor in and on the earth enabled the discovery of subterranean specimens. At the same time, archival traces of laboring lives ultimately reveal more about the naturalists who created them than they do about the marginalized laborers whose lives they faintly record. Cultural norms of elite masculinity and scholarly self-presentation in the Republic of Letters help us to understand why some eighteenth-century naturalists felt they had to publicly disavow a form of labor that would come to be recognized as a crucial and skilled part of scientific fieldwork in the modern era. Compared to other kinds of invisible labor that historians of science have brought into view, the social meaning of earth work rendered it uniquely visible in some ways and uniquely invisible in others. early modern Europe eighteenth century labor masculinity fossils natural history collecting American Philosophical Society https://doi.org/10.13039/100001461 northwestern university https://doi.org/10.13039/100007059 edited-state corrected-proof I wish to extend my deepest thanks to David Sepkoski, Paula Findlen, Ed Muir, Dena Goodman, Bennett Jones, Lissa Roberts, the two anonymous reviewers at History of Science , and audiences at HSS 2015, the American Philosophical Society (especially Adriana Link and Tiffany Hale), and Northwestern’s Kaplan Institute for the Humanities for their support, advice, and invaluable feedback at various points in the evolution of this project. Conflict of interest The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article. Funding The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Research support for this article has been generously provided by the Alice Kaplan Institute for the Humanities of Northwestern University and the American Philosophical Society. ORCID iD Lydia Barnett https://orcid.org/0000-0002-6654-9202 1. The classic work on invisible labor in the history of science is Steven Shapin’s discussion of “Invisible Technicians” in A Social History of Truth: Civility and Science in Seventeenth-Century England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), ch. 8. Since then, invisible labor has been taken up widely by historians of science in premodernity and modernity, in Europe and the world; see for example Londa Schiebinger, Plants and Empire: Colonial Bioprospecting in the Atlantic World (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004) and Gabrielle Hecht, “The Work of Invisibility: Radiation Hazards and Occupational Health in South African Uranium Production,” International Labor and Working-Class History 81 (2012): 94–113. On invisible labor in the history of modern paleontology, see Caitlin Wylie, “Invisibility as a Mechanism of Social Ordering: Defining Groups among Laboratory Workers,” in Jenny Bangham and Judith Kaplan (eds.) Invisibility and Labour in the Human Sciences (Berlin, DE: Max Planck Institute for the History of Science Preprint, 2016), pp.85–90. 2. William Arderon, “Extract of a Letter . . . on the Precipices or Cliffs on the North-East Sea-Coast of the County of Norfolk,” Philosophical Transactions 44 (1746–7): 283. 3. References to early modern fossil finders in the secondary literature are scattered and cursory, much like the traces of their lives in primary sources. A notable recent exception is Ivano dal Prete, “Ingenuous Investigators: Antonio Vallisneri’s Regional Network and the Making of Natural Knowledge in Eighteenth-Century Italy,” in Paula Findlen (ed.) Empires of Knowledge: Scientific Networks in the Early Modern World (New York: Routledge, 2019), ch. 6. There are several excellent studies of fossil finders in the modern period, for example Peter C. Kjaergaard, “The Fossil Trade: Paying a Price for Human Origins,” Isis 103.2 (2012): 340–55 and Jeremy Vetter, “Cowboys, Scientists, and Fossils: The Field Site and Local Collaboration in the American West,” Isis 99.2 (2008): 273–303. 4. See, for example, Antoine-Joseph Dezallier d’Argenville, L’historie naturelle éclaircie dans une de ses parties principales, l’oryctologie, qui traite des terres, des pierres, des métaux, des minéraux, et autres fossiles (Paris, 1755), p.223. 5. Ibid., pp.388–9. 6. Recent calls for a labor turn in the history of science include Daniel Rood, “Toward a Global Labor History of Science,” in Patrick Manning and Daniel Rood (eds.) Global Scientific Practice in an Age of Revolutions, 1750–1850 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2016), pp.255–73. 7. In nineteenth-century Britain, “Nearly all the major discoveries . . . arose as a result of stone extraction or agriculture.” Simon J. Knell, The Culture of English Geology, 1815–1851: A Science Revealed Through its Collecting (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2000), p.176. At the turn of the nineteenth century, Europeans frequently purchased fossils from “miners, quarrymen and peasants whose daily toil enabled them to find what these noblemen and gentlemen (and sometimes ladies) were prepared to pay for.” Martin Rudwick, “Minerals, Strata and Fossils,” in N. Jardine, J. A. Secord and E. C. Spary (eds.) Cultures of Natural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p.267. In the far less professionalized world of eighteenth-century fieldwork, there is even greater reason to believe that fossil finds, both major and minor, were largely the result of earth work. 8. The broad geographical scope of the present essay is not meant to downplay the importance of local, regional, national, and imperial differences in cultures and economies of paleontology but rather to highlight the need for further research along those lines by first establishing the existence of certain broad patterns across political, religious, linguistic, and economic divides in the eighteenth century. 9. Here I take inspiration from scholarship on the limits of archival recovery by historians of slavery in the colonial Atlantic world. While I do not treat enslaved fossil finders in the present essay, I nevertheless find it useful here to take up these historians’ call to appreciate that which cannot be recovered about marginalized lives from traces created by literate people who commanded their labor but were not privy to their lives nor aspired to know more about them. See Stephanie E. Smallwood, “The Politics of the Archive and History’s Accountability to the Enslaved,” History of the Present: A Journal of Critical History 6.2 (2016): 117–32 and Marisa J. Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives: Enslaved Women, Violence, and the Archive (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016). 10. Daniela Bleichmar reads d’Argenville’s career as evidence of a growing concern in eighteenth-century art and science to establish a “hierarchy of visual experts” based on the ability to see objects with an eye for order, taste, and display. Daniela Bleichmar, “Learning to Look: Visual Expertise across Art and Science in Eighteenth-Century France,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 46.1 (2012): 87. 11. Naturalists weren’t especially interested in fossils as a class of natural specimens (and in fact rarely recognized them as such) until the late seventeenth century. For a sensitive discussion of the challenge of recognizing certain types of ‘figured stones’ as the remains of once-living creatures, see Stephen Jay Gould, “Father Athanasius on the Isthmus of a Middle State: Understanding Kircher’s Paleontology,” in Paula Findlen (ed.) Athanasius Kircher: The Last Man Who Knew Everything (New York: Routledge, 2004), pp.207–37. In line with early modern usage of the term ‘fossil’ and its rough analogs in English and other European languages (e.g., figured stones, pétrifications, corpi marini ), I have adopted an agnostic position about whether the specimens discussed here were also fossils in the modern sense, which is not always clear from the sources. I have similarly reserved judgment about whether contemporary interpretations and identifications of individual fossil specimens were correct. 12. For a general overview of theories of fossils in this period, see Nicoletta Morello, La macchina della terra: Teorie geologiche dal Seicento all’Ottocento (Turin: Loescher Editore, 1979) and Rudwick, The Meaning of Fossils: Episodes in the History of Paleontology , 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), chs. 1–3. 13. Most of the literature on the history of scientific fieldwork concerns the period from the mid-nineteenth century onwards; see the useful overview in Robert E. Kohler and Jeremy Vetter, “The Field,” in Bernard Lightman (ed.) A Companion to the History of Science (Chichester, UK: Wiley Blackwell, 2016), pp.282–95. On the emergence of ‘the field’ as a site of science in the eighteenth century, see Alix Cooper, “From the Alps to Egypt (and Back Again): Dolomieu, Scientific Voyaging, and the Construction of the Field in Eighteenth-Century Europe,” in Crosbie Smith and Jon Agar (eds.) Making Space: Territorial Themes in the History of Science (London: Macmillan, 1998), pp.39–63. On the persistence of classed divisions of labor among men in the modern field sciences, see Michael S. Reidy, “Mountaineering, Masculinity, and the Male Body in Mid-Victorian Britain,” Osiris 30 (2015): 158–81. 14. Nonliterate people below the rank of artisan of course had multiple avenues through which to represent their lives and worldviews, and further research is needed to identify potential sources for vernacular beliefs and practices around fossils in particular. Song or storytelling, for example, or handcrafted objects for domestic use such as textiles or figurines, might hold valuable clues about earth workers’ views on what fossils were or how to find them. 15. Paola Bertucci, “The In/visible Woman: Mariangela Ardinghelli and the Circulation of Knowledge between Paris and Naples in the Eighteenth Century,” Isis 104.2 (2013): 226–49. The archival presence of non-elite fossil finders is similar to that of unnamed elite women scholars in one important way, however. As Carol Pal writes of the women who entered into intellectual correspondence with the seventeenth-century intelligencer Samuel Hartlib but did not publish under their own names, “their names might be recorded in family or church archives for their births, their marriages, or their descendants,” but “this remnant is perhaps their only archive, the only location in which they are remembered for their work alone.” Similarly, non-literate fossil finders may very well be named in ecclesiastical and legal records but it is likely only in the writings of literate naturalists that their work as fossil finders was accidentally preserved for posterity. Carol Pal, “Accidental Archive: Samuel Hartlib and the Afterlife of Female Scholars,” in Vera Keller, Anna Marie Roos and Elizabeth Yale (eds.) Archival Afterlives: Life, Death, and Knowledge-Making in Early Modern British Scientific and Medical Archives (Leiden: Brill, 2018), p.125. 16. On the work of wives, daughters, and other kin in scholarly households, see for example, Martine J. van Ittersum, “Knowledge Production in the Dutch Republic: The Household Academy of Hugo Grotius,” Journal of the History of Ideas 72.4 (2011): 523–48. 17. “While not wholly invisible, they remained anonymous as individuals,” acknowledged as “members of their respective knowledge communities, not as individual knowers.” Kathleen S. Murphy, “Translating the Vernacular: Indigenous and African Knowledge in the Eighteenth-Century British Atlantic,” Atlantic Studies 8.1 (2011), p.41. See also Susan Scott Parrish, “Diasporic African Sources of Enlightenment Knowledge,” in James Delbourgo and Nicholas Dew (eds.) Science and Empire in the Atlantic World (New York: Routledge, 2008), pp.281–310. 18. Robert Plot, The Natural History of Oxfordshire, being an Essay toward the Natural History of England (Oxford, 1677), p.133. 19. Giuseppe Monti, De monumento diluviano nuper in agro Bononiensi detecto (Bologna, 1719), p.40. 20. Ibid., p.40. 21. Francis Nevil (or Nevile) to St George Ashe, July 29, 1715, American Philosophical Society (hereafter ‘APS’) Archives III.1 Manuscript Communications Box 5. While Nevil’s letter to Bishop Ashe appears not to have been published, the manuscript held by the APS is written out as a fair copy, indicating the author intended it for public consumption, whether through print or manuscript circulation. It was read aloud at a meeting of the Royal Society of London along with the better-known report of a similar find by the Anglo-Irish physician Thomas Molyneux. Thomas Molyneux, “Remarks upon the Aforesaid Letter and Teeth,” Philosophical Transactions 29 (1714–1716): 370–84. 22. Nevil to Ashe, July 29, 1715, APS Archives III.1 Manuscript Communications Box 5, p.2 (note 21). 23. Increased attention to go-betweens in the history of knowledge has focused attention on the role of middlemen in natural-history collecting; see James Delbourgo’s discussion of “collecting collectors” in Collecting the World: Hans Sloane and the Origins of the British Museum (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017), ch. 5. 24. John Woodward, Essay toward a Natural History of the Earth (London, 1695), p.3; John Woodward, Fossils of All Kinds Digested into a Method (London, 1728), Preface [92b]. The instructions reproduced in Fossils of All Kinds indicate Woodward’s primary expectation that his agents gather information from earth workers about where and how to dig for fossils. Whether he also expected these “learned and ingenious Gentlemen” to dig fossils themselves or to collect already discovered ones from earth workers, or some combination of the two, is not entirely clear. 25. Giovanni Giacomo Spada, Giunta alla dissertazione de’ corpi marini petrificati ove si prova che sono antediluviani (Verona, 1737), p.10. Spada sourced fossils from his servants for his own collection and publications and also gifted these finds to men of higher rank, such as Antonio Vallisneri and Scipione Maffei, who relied heavily on a regional network of parish priests like Spada in remote hill towns in the Veneto to collect fossils from their earth-working parishioners. dal Prete, “Ingenuous Investigators,” pp.193–4 (note 3). 26. Agostino Scilla, La vana speculazione disingannata dal senso (Naples, 1670), p.64. 27. Richard Richardson to James Petiver, 18 October 1704, British Library Sloane MSS 4064, f. 43. 28. On the skill and taste deemed necessary for elite collecting and display, see Bleichmar, “Learning to Look,” (note 10). 29. The traditional association between gentle status and abstention from work was often expressed in terms of what elites did or did not do with their hands. See James Robert Wood, “Richardson’s Hands,” Eighteenth-Century Fiction 26.3 (2014): 331–53. These social norms deeply affected the rhetoric and practice of early modern gentlemanly science, when “the distinction between head and hands marked out the ideal distance between bodies of higher and lower orders.” Fredrik Albritton Jonsson, “Enlightened Hands: Managing Dexterity in British Medicine and Manufactures, 1760–1800,” in Christopher E. Forth and Ivan Crozier (eds.) Body Parts: Critical Explorations in Corporeality (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2005), p.142. 30. Hooke’s experiments with dogs and air pumps are discussed in Anita Guerrini, Experimenting with Humans and Animals: From Galen to Animal Rights (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003), pp.38–9. Of the now-substantial literature on artisanal knowledge and natural knowledge-making in early modern Europe, see Pamela H. Smith’s classic The Body of the Artisan: Art and Experience in the Scientific Revolution (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004) and Paola Bertucci’s recent Artisanal Enlightenment: Science and the Mechanical Arts in Old Regime France (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017). Surgeons ranked lower than university-trained physicians, who generally refrained from delving beneath the surface of patients’ skin, but surgery (as surgeons liked to point out) enjoyed a classical imprimatur that ditch-digging did not. Deborah Harkness, The Jewel House: Elizabethan London and the Scientific Revolution (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007), ch. 2. 31. The Hehn brothers constitute two of the four instances I’ve identified of a named fossil finder, along with Spada’s Martino and Gabriela Perez Gil. Significantly, they were named in court documents, not by elite collectors in a work of natural history. “Proceedings of the Würzburg Cathedral Chapter,” 13 April 1726, in Melvin E. Jahn and Daniel J. Woolf (ed. and trans.) The Lying Stones of Dr. Johann Bartholomew Adam Beringer (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1963), p.134. 32. Christian Friedrich Michaelis to Peter Camper, 8 October 1784, APS, John Morgan correspondence, Mss.B.M82.3, pp.1–2. 33. Camper proposed to split the costs of funding the expedition with Michaelis, probably knowing that would be the end of the scheme. Michaelis to Camper, 25 November 1784, APS, John Morgan Correspondence, Mss.B.M82.3, p.1. 34. Monti, Monumento , p.42 (note 19). 35. Arderon, “Extract of a Letter,” p.281 (note 2). [Italics mine]. 36. On the social norms and dynamics of the Republic of Letters, see Anne Goldgar, Impolite Learning: Conduct and Community in the Republic of Letters, 1680–1750 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995); and Lorraine Daston, “The Ideal and Reality of the Republic of Letters in the Enlightenment,” Science in Context 4.2 (1991): 367–86. 37. The Italian naturalist Scipione Maffei, for example, denigrated his fellow noblemen for purchasing antiquities and naturalia with an eye towards resale instead of exchanging them according to the traditional norms of scholarly gift exchange: “Fossils could be bought and sold but not in transactions between naturalists, who otherwise would have degraded themselves to the condition of unreliable ‘merchants.’” dal Prete, “Ingenuous Investigators,” p.194 (note 3). 38. Antoine de Jussieu, “Observations sur quelques ossements d’une teste d’hippopotame,” Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1724): 213. 39. d’Argenville, Oryctologie , p.334 (note 4). 40. Georges Cuvier, Extrait d’un ouvrage sur les éspeces de quadrupèdes dont on a trouvé les ossemens dans l’intérieur de la terre (Paris, 1800), p.4. 41. Arderon, “Extract of a Letter,” p.282 (note 2). 42. Robert Annan, “Account of a Skeleton of a Large Animal, Found near Hudson’s River,” Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences 2.1 (1793): 160. 43. Jean-Étienne Guettard, “Troisième mémoire sur la minéralogie des environs de Paris et des corps marins qui s’y trouvent,” Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1764): 497. 44. Samuel Dale, “A Letter . . . Concerning Harwich Cliff, and the Fossil Shells There,” Philosophical Transactions 24 (1704–5; letter dated February 1703): 1576. 45. Woodward, Fossils , p.96 (note 24). 46. “Grand os fossile trouvé en Bourgogne,” Histoire de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1743): 49–50. 47. Evidence that the fossil finders identified in French sources only as “les Sauvages” were Abenaki is presented in Adrienne Mayor, Fossil Legends of the First Americans (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005): 6–7. Mayor notes (pp.4–5) that nearly all the secondary literature on the 1739 discovery attributes the find to French soldiers if not to Longueuil himself, in spite of the clear indication in Daubenton’s article that it was the indigenous American warriors who found the tusks and bones. Their discovery has been discussed primarily in the context of the Euro-American megatherium/incognitum craze, e.g., Claudine Cohen, The Fate of the Mammoth: Fossils, Myth, and History , translated into English by William Rodarmor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), pp. 90–3. 48. Louis-Jean-Marie Daubenton, “Mémoire sur des os et des dents remarquables par leur grandeur,” Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1762): 220. Daubenton’s account drew on an earlier and now apparently lost account of this joint military expedition by Longueuil, who apparently shipped the tusks and femur to Paris in 1740, after which they entered the collection of the Jardin du Roi. 49. Mayor, Fossil Legends , pp.8–11 (note 47). 50. José Torrubia, Aparato para la historia natural española (Madrid, 1754), [unpaginated description of Plate III, Figure IV]; Michael G. Bassett, ‘Formed Stones’, Folklore and Fossils (Cardiff: National Museum of Wales, 1982), p.15; dal Prete, “Ingenuous Investigators,” p.182 (note 3). 51. There is a long history of connections, both practical and rhetorical, between fossil hunting and mining. For a discussion of these connections in the nineteenth-century U.S. West, see Lukas Rieppel, “Prospecting for Dinosaurs on the Mining Frontier: The Value of Information in America’s Gilded Age,” Social Studies of Science 45.2 (2015): 169–72. 52. Christian Maximilian Spener, “Disquisitio de crocodilo in lapide scissili,” Miscellanea Berolinensia 1 (1710): 99–118; Emmanuel Swedenborg, Regnum subterraneum sive minerale de cupro et orichalco (Dresden and Leipzig, 1734), pp. 168–9. 53. Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, “Letter from G. W. Leibniz (1710),” in The Shorter Leibniz Texts: A Collection of New Translations , translated into English by Lloyd H. Strickland (London: Bloomsbury, 2010), p.143. No addressee is indicated, but the letter begins “I applaud your crocodile fossil,” strongly suggesting it was addressed to Spener, whose “Disquisitio de crocodilo” appeared that same year. 54. Torrubia, Aparato , p.51 (note 50). 55. Abraham de la Pryme, “A Letter . . . Concerning Broughton in Lincolnshire, with his Observations on the Shell-Fish, Observed in the Quarries about that Place,” Philosophical Transactions 22 (1700–01): 679. 56. Chandra Mukerji, Impossible Engineering: Technology and Territoriality on the Canal du Midi (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009). 57. Giants populated literature, folk legends, and natural history in the medieval and early modern periods. See Cohen, Fate of the Mammoth (note 47); Antoine Schnapper, Le géant, la licorne, la tulipe (Paris: Flammarion, 1988), ch. 2; and Sylvia Huot, Outsiders: The Humanity and Inhumanity of Giants in Medieval French Prose Romance (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 2016). 58. Plot, Natural History , p.128 (note 18). 59. Kenneth J. McNamara, “Shepherds’ Crowns, Fairy Loaves and Thunderstones: The Mythology of Fossil Echinoids in England,” in L. Piccardi and W. B. Masse (eds.) Myth and Geology (London: Geological Society Publications, 2007), pp.279–94. 60. Ibid., pp.291–2; Davis A. Young, The Biblical Flood: A Case Study of the Church’s Response to Extrabiblical Evidence (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1995), pp. 26–7, 34–6. 61. Lorraine Daston and Katherine Park, Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150–1750 (New York: Zone Books, 2001), ch. 2. 62. Antonio de Torquemada, Giardino di fiori curiosi , translated into Italian by Celio Malespina (Venice, 1597), pp.29v–31r. Giant fossil bones continued to be displayed inside churches and also public squares well into the eighteenth century in both northern and southern Europe. Marco Romano and Marco Avanzini, “The Skeletons of Cyclops and Lestrigons: Misinterpretation of Quaternary Vertebrates as Remains of the Mythological Giants,” Historical Biology 31.2 (2019): pp.120–4. 63. Torquemada, Giardino , p.31r (note 62). 64. M. Martin, A Description of the Western Islands of Scotland (London, 1703), p.134. 65. R. F. de Réaumur, “Remarques sur les coquilles fossiles de quelques cantons de la Touraine, & sur les utilités qu’on en tire,” Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1720), p.402, 404. 66. Torrubia, Aparato , p.4 (note 50). 67. Jean-Étienne Guettard, “Mémoire où l’on examine en général le terrain, les pierres, & les différens fossiles de la Champagne, & de quelques endroits des provinces qui l’avoisinent,” Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences (1754), p.492. 68. Monti, Monumento , pp.38–9 (note 19). 69. Carlo Sarti, “Giuseppe Monti and Paleontology in Eighteenth Century Bologna,” Nuncius 8.2 (1993): 446. 70. Emanuel Mendes da Costa, Natural History of Fossils (London, 1757), p.145. 71. Jean Astruc, “Mémoire sur les pétrifications de Boutonnet,” Mémoires de la Société Royale de Montpellier (1766; letter dated 17 December 1707), p.72. 72. Jussieu, “Hippopotame,” p.214 (note 38). I wish to extend my deepest thanks to David Sepkoski, Paula Findlen, Ed Muir, Dena Goodman, Bennett Jones, Lissa Roberts, the two anonymous reviewers at History of Science, and audiences at HSS 2015, the American Philosophical Society (especially Adriana Link and Tiffany Hale), and Northwestern?s Kaplan Institute for the Humanities for their support, advice, and invaluable feedback at various points in the evolution of this project. The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Research support for this article has been generously provided by the Alice Kaplan Institute for the Humanities of Northwestern University and the American Philosophical Society.
Keywords
- Early modern Europe
- collecting
- eighteenth century
- fossils
- labor
- masculinity
- natural history
ASJC Scopus subject areas
- History
- History and Philosophy of Science