Illness of George III;
The recreative pursuits, alike of the book-collector and of the agriculturist, as well as the labours of the conscientious monarch, were at length to be arrested by that great calamity which, after clouding over some months of the years of vigour, was destined to veil in thick gloom all the|1810.|years of decline—the years when great public triumphs and crushing family afflictions passed equally unnoted by the recluse of Windsor.
‘Thy lov’d ones fell around thee.... Thou, meanwhile,Didst walk unconscious through thy royal towers,The one that weptnot, in the tearful isle!· · · · ·But who can tell what visions might be thine?The stream of thought, though broken, still was pure.Still on that wave the stars of Heaven might shineWhere earthly image would no more endure.Nor might the phantoms to thy spirit known,Be dark or wild,—creations of Remorse,—Unstain’d by thee, the blameless Past had thrownNo fearful shadows o’er the Future’s course.’
‘Thy lov’d ones fell around thee.... Thou, meanwhile,Didst walk unconscious through thy royal towers,The one that weptnot, in the tearful isle!· · · · ·But who can tell what visions might be thine?The stream of thought, though broken, still was pure.Still on that wave the stars of Heaven might shineWhere earthly image would no more endure.Nor might the phantoms to thy spirit known,Be dark or wild,—creations of Remorse,—Unstain’d by thee, the blameless Past had thrownNo fearful shadows o’er the Future’s course.’
‘Thy lov’d ones fell around thee.... Thou, meanwhile,Didst walk unconscious through thy royal towers,The one that weptnot, in the tearful isle!
‘Thy lov’d ones fell around thee.
... Thou, meanwhile,
Didst walk unconscious through thy royal towers,
The one that weptnot, in the tearful isle!
· · · · ·
· · · · ·
But who can tell what visions might be thine?The stream of thought, though broken, still was pure.Still on that wave the stars of Heaven might shineWhere earthly image would no more endure.Nor might the phantoms to thy spirit known,Be dark or wild,—creations of Remorse,—Unstain’d by thee, the blameless Past had thrownNo fearful shadows o’er the Future’s course.’
But who can tell what visions might be thine?
The stream of thought, though broken, still was pure.
Still on that wave the stars of Heaven might shine
Where earthly image would no more endure.
Nor might the phantoms to thy spirit known,
Be dark or wild,—creations of Remorse,—
Unstain’d by thee, the blameless Past had thrown
No fearful shadows o’er the Future’s course.’
And his death.
WhenGeorge the Thirddied at Windsor Castle, on the 29th of January, 1820, the public mourning was sincere.|1820. January.|During its ten years of rule, the Regency had done very much to heighten and intensify regret for the calamity of 1810. The errors of the old monarch came, naturally, to be dwarfed to the view, when his private virtues acquired all the sharp saliency of contrast.
Since his death, political writers have usually been somewhat harsh to his memory. But the verdict of history has not yet been given in. When the time for its delivery shall at length come, there will be a long roll of good deeds to set off against many mistakes in policy. Nor will the genuine piety, and the earnest conscientiousness of the individual man—up to the measure of the light vouchsafedto him—be forgotten in the preliminary summing up. WhatGeorge the Thirddid for Britain simply in conferring upon it the social blessings of a pure Court, and of a bright personal example, is best to be estimated by contemplating what, in that respect, existed before it, and also what came immediately after it. Comparisons of such a sort will serve, eventually, to better purpose than that of feathering the witty shafts of reckless satirists, whether in prose or in verse. Meanwhile, it is enough to say that no honester, no more God-fearing man, than wasGeorge the Third, ever sat upon the throne of England.
During all the time of his long illness, the King’s Library had continued, more or less, to grow. When he died, it contained sixty-five thousand two hundred and fifty volumes, besides more than nineteen thousand unbound tracts.|State of the King’s Library in January, 1820.|These have since been bound severally. The total number of volumes, therefore, which the Collection comprised was about eighty-four thousand. At the time of the King’s decease, the annual cost of books in progress, and of periodical works, somewhat exceeded one thousand pounds. The annual salaries of the staff—four officers and two servants—amounted to eleven hundred and seventy-one pounds. The Library occupied a fine and extensive suite of rooms in Buckingham Palace. One of them was large enough to make a noble billiard-room.
The Royal Library, therefore, embarrassed KingGeorge the Fourthin two ways. It cost two thousand two hundred pounds a year, even without making any new additions to its contents. It occupied much space in the royal residence which could be devoted to more agreeable purposes. Then came the welcome thought that, instead of being a charge, it might be made a source of income. TheEmperor of Russia was known to covet, as a truly imperial luxury, what to the new King of Great Britain was but a costly burden. He broached the idea—but met, instead of encouragement, with strong remonstrance.
The news of the royal suggestion soon spread abroad. Amongst those who heard of it with disgust were LordFarnborough(who is said to have learnt the design in talking, one day, with PrincessLieven) and RichardHeber. Both men bestirred themselves to prevent the King from publicly disgracing the country in that way. LordFarnboroughbetook himself to a conference with the Premier, LordLiverpool. Mr.Heberdiscussed the matter with LordSidmouth. By the ministers, public opinion upon the suggested sale was pretty strongly and emphatically conveyed to His Majesty, whatever may have been the courtliness of tone employed about it.
Conference between George IV and his Ministers on disposal of the Library.
George the Fourth, however, was not less strongly impressed by the charms of the prospective rubles from Russia. He felt that he could find pleasant uses for a windfall of a hundred and eighty thousand pounds, or so. And he fought hard to secure his expected prize—or some indubitably solid equivalent.|R. Ford, in theQuarterly Review(Dec., 1850), vol. lxxxviii, p. 143;|‘If I can’t have the rubles,’ said the King, ‘you must find me their value in pounds sterling.’ The Ministers were much in earnest to save the Library, and, in the emergency, laid their hands upon a certain surplus which had accrued from a fund furnished some years before by France, to meet British claims for losses sustained at the date of the first French Revolution.|Comp.Minutes of Evidence taken by the Commissioners on Brit. Mus.(also in 1850), pp. 117, 118.|But the expedient became the subject of an unpleasant hint in the House of Commons. And the Government, it is said, then resorted to that useful fund, the ‘Droits of Admiralty.’ By hook or crook,George the Fourthreceived his ‘equivalent.’ He then sat down to his writing-table(at Brighton), to assure LordLiverpool—in his official capacity—of the satisfaction he felt in having ‘this means of advancing the Literature of my Country.’ Then he proceeded to add:—‘I also feel that I am paying a just tribute to the memory of a Parent, whose life was adorned with every public and private virtue.’
The Executors or Trustees of KingGeorge the Thirdknew well what the monarch’s feelings about his Library would, in all reasonable probability, have been, had he possessed mental vigour when preparing for his last change. They exacted from the Trustees of the Museum a pledge that the Royal Library should be preserved apart, and entire.
The New Building erected for the Georgian Library.
Parliament, on its side, made a liberal provision for the erection of a building worthy to receive the Georgian Library. The fine edifice raised in pursuance of a parliamentary vote cost a hundred and forty thousand pounds.|1821–28.|It provided one of the handsomest rooms in Europe for the main purpose, and it also made much-needed arrangements for the reception and exhibition of natural-history Collections, above the books.
The removal of the Royal Library from Buckingham House was not completed until August, 1828. All who saw the Collection whilst the building was in its first purity of colour—and who were old enough to form an opinion on such a point—pronounced the receptacle to be eminently worthy of its rich contents. The floor-cases and the heavy tables—very needful, no doubt—have since detracted not a little from the architectural effect and elegance of the room itself.
Along with the printed books, and the extensive geographical Collections, came a number of manuscripts—onhistorical, literary, and geographical subjects.[17]By some transient forgetfulness of the pledge given to LordFarnborough, the manuscripts, or part of them, were, in March, 1841, sent to the ‘Manuscript Department’ of the Museum.|Minutes of Evidence(1850), as above.|But Mr.Panizzi, then the Keeper of the Printed Books, successfully reclaimed them for their due place of deposit, according to the arrangement of 1823. Nor was such a claim a mere official punctilio.
In every point of view, close regard to the wishes of donors, or of those who virtually represent them, is not more a matter of simple justice than it is a matter of wise and foreseeing policy in the Trustees of Public Museums. The integrity of their Collections is often, and naturally, an anxious desire of those who have formed them. In a subsequent chapter (C. ii of Book III) it will be seen that the wish expressed by the representatives of KingGeorge the Thirdwas also the wish of a munificent contemporary and old minister of his, who, many years afterwards, gave to the Nation a Library only second in splendour to that which had been gathered byGeorge the Third.
Not the least curious little fact connected with the Georgian Library and its gift to the Public, is that the gift waspredictedthirty-one years beforeGeorge the Fourthwrote his letter addressed to LordLiverpoolfrom the Pavilion at Brighton, and twenty-eight years before the death ofGeorge the Third.
In 1791, FrederickWendebornwrote thus:—‘The King’s private Library ... can boast very valuable and magnificent books, which, as it is said, will be one time or anotherjoined to those of the British Museum.’Wendeborn[18]was a German preacher, resident in London for many years. He was known to QueenCharlotte, and had occasional intercourse with the Court. May it not be inferred that on some occasion or other the King had intimated, if not an intention, at least a thought on the matter, which some courtier or other had repeated in the hearing of Dr.Wendeborn?
CHAPTER V.THE FOUNDER OF THE BANKSIAN MUSEUM AND LIBRARY.
CHAPTER V.THE FOUNDER OF THE BANKSIAN MUSEUM AND LIBRARY.
‘It may be averred for truth that they be not the highest instances that give the best and surest information.... It often comes to pass [in the study of Nature] that small and mean things conduce more to the discovery of great matters, than great things to the discovery of small matters.’—Bacon.
‘Not every man is fit to travel. Travel makes a wise man better, but a fool worse.’—Owen Felltham.
The Life, Travels, and Social Influence, of Sir JosephBanks.—The Royal Society under his Presidency.—His Collections and their acquisition by the Trustees of the British Museum.—Notices of some other contemporaneous accessions.
Book II, Chap. V.The Founder of the Banksian Museum and Library.
We have now to glance at the career—personal and scientific—of an estimable public benefactor, with whom KingGeorge the Thirdhad much pleasant intercourse, both of a public and a private kind. Sir JosephBankswas almost five years younger than his royal friend and correspondent, but he survived the King by little more than three months, so that the Georgian and the Banksian Libraries were very nearly contemporaneous accessions. The former, as we have seen, was given in 1823, and fully received in 1828; the latter was bequeathed (conditionally) in 1820, and received in 1827. These two accessions, taken conjointly, raised the Museum collection of books(for the first time in its history) to a respectable rank amongst the National Libraries of the day. The Banksian bequest made also an important addition to the natural-history collections, especially to the herbaria. It is as a cultivator and promoter of the natural sciences, and pre-eminently of botany, that Sir Joseph won for himself enduring fame. But he was also conspicuous for those personal and social qualities which are not less necessary to the man, than are learning and liberality to the philosopher. For the lack of such personal qualities some undoubted public benefactors have been, nevertheless, bad citizens. In this public benefactor both sets of faculties were harmoniously combined. They shone in his form and countenance. They yet dwell in the memory of a survivor or two, here and there, who were the contemporaries of his closing years.
JosephBankswas born at Reresby Abbey, in Lincolnshire, on the thirteenth of December, 1743. He was the only son of WilliamBanks-Hodgkenson, of ReresbyAbbey, by his wife SophiaBate.
The Bankeses of Reresby Abbey.
Mr.Banks-Hodgkensonwas the descendant of a Yorkshire family, which was wont, of old, to write itself ‘Banke,’ and was long settled at Banke-Newton, in the wapentake of Staincliffe. The second son of a certain HenryBanke, of Banke-Newton, acquired, by marriage, Beck Hall, in Giggleswick; and by his great-grandson, the first JosephBankes, Reresby Abbey was purchased towards the close of the seventeenth century. His son (also Joseph) sat in Parliament for Peterborough, and served as Sheriff of Lincolnshire in 1736. The second (and eldest surviving) son of the Member for Peterborough took the name ofHodgkenson, as heir to his mother’s ancestral estate of Overton, in Derbyshire, but on the death of his elder brother (and his consequent heirship) resumed thepaternal name, and resigned the Overton estate to his next brother, who became RobertHodgkenson, of Overton. Mr.Banks-Hodgkensondied in 1761, leaving to his son, afterwards Sir JosephBanks, a plentiful estate.
The youngster was then little more than beginning his career at Oxford, whither he had recently come from Eton, though his schooling had been begun at Harrow.|Early years of Sir Joseph Banks.|He was ‘lord of himself,’ and of a fine fortune, at the critical age of eighteen. To many, such an inheritance, under like circumstances, has brought misery. To JosephBanks, it brought noble means for the prosecution of a noble aim. It was the ambition of this young Etonian—not to eclipse jockies, or to dazzle the eyes of fools, but—to tread in the footsteps ofLinnæus. Rich, hardy, and handsome in person, sanguine in temperament, and full of talent, he resolved that, for some years to come, after leaving the University, the life that might so easily be brimmed with enjoyments should incur many privations and face many hardships, in order to win both knowledge and the power of benefiting the Public by its communication. That object of early ambition, it will be seen, was abundantly realised in the after-years.
There is no reason to think that a resolution, not often formed at such an age as eighteen, was come to in the absence of temptation to a different course.Bankswas no ascetic. Nor was it his fortune, at any time, to live much with ascetics. One of his earliest friends was that LordSandwich[19]whose memory now chiefly connects itself with the unsavoury traditions of Medmenham Abbey, and with the peculiar pursuits in literature of JohnWilkes. WithSandwichhe spent many of the bright days ofyouth in fishing on Whittlesea Mere.Bankshad the good fortune—and the skill—to make his early acquaintanceship with the future First Lord of the Admiralty conducive to the interests of science. The connexion with the Navy of another friend of his youth, HenryPhipps, afterwards Earl ofMulgrave, was also turned, eventually, to good account in the same way.
Part of youngBanks’vacations were passed at Reresby and in frequent companionship with LordSandwich; part at his mother’s jointure-house at Chelsea, very near to the fine botanic garden which, a few years before, had been so much enriched by the liberality of Sir HansSloane. In that Chelsea garden, and in other gardens at Hammersmith,Banksstudied botany with youthful ardour. And he made frequent botanic excursions in the then secluded neighbourhood. In the course of one of these rambles he fell under suspicion of felony.
Banks’ youthful adventure near Hammersmith.
He was botanizing in a ditch, and his person happened to be partially concealed by a thick growth of briars and nettles, at a moment when two or three constables, who were in chase of a burglar, chanced to approach the spot. The botanist’s clothes were in a miry condition, and his suspicious posture excited in the minds of the local Dogberries the idea that here they had their man. They were deaf to all expostulations. The future President of the Royal Society was dragged, by ignominious hands, before the nearest justice. The magistrate agreed with the constables that the case looked black, but, before committing either the prisoner or himself, he directed that the culprit’s pockets should be searched. They contained little money, and no watches; but an extraordinary abundance of plants and wild flowers. The explanations which before had been refused were now accepted, and very courteous apologieswere tendered to the victim of an excess of official zeal. But the awkwardness of the adventure failed to deter the sufferer from his eager pursuit, in season and out of it, of his darling science. A botanist he was to be.
He left Oxford in 1763, and almost instantly set out on a scientific voyage to Newfoundland and Labrador.|The first Voyage of Exploration to Newfoundland and Labrador.|Here he laid the first substantial groundwork of his future collections in natural history. He sailed withPhipps, who was already a captain in the Navy, and had been charged with the duty of protecting the Newfoundland fisheries.|1763.|The voyage proved to be one of some hardship, but its privations rather sharpened than dulled the youthful naturalist’s appetite for scientific explorations. He had learned thus early to endure hardness, for a worthy object.
The second Voyage;—to the South Seas.
His second voyage was to the South Seas, and it was made in company with the most famous of the large band of eighteenth century maritime discoverers—JamesCook,|1768.|and also with a favourite pupil ofLinnæus(the idol ofBanks’youthful fancy), Daniel CharlesSolander, who, though he was little above thirty years of age, had already won some distinction in England, and had been made an Assistant-Librarian in the British Museum.[20]
To make the voyage ofThe Endeavouras largely conducive as was possible to the interests of the natural sciences, Mr.Banksincurred considerable personal expense, and he induced the Admiralty to make large efforts, on itspart, to promote and secure the various objects of the new expedition. One of those objects was the observation at Otaheite of a coming transit of Venus over the Sun; another was the further progress of geographical discovery in a quarter of the world to which public interest was at that time specially and strongly turned.Banks, individually, was also bent on collecting specimens in all departments of natural history, and on promoting geographical knowledge by the completest possible collection of drawings, maps, and charts of all that was met with. He engaged Dr.Solanderas his companion, and gave him a salary of four hundred pounds a year. With them sailed two draughtsmen and a secretary, besides four servants.
The Botanical Explorations at Terra-del-Fuego.
The Endeavourset sail from Plymouth on the twenty-sixth of August, 1768, and from Rio-de-Janeiro on the eighth of December.|1769. January.|On the fourteenth of January, 1769, the naturalists landed at Terra-del-Fuego, and they gathered more than a hundred plants theretofore unknown to European botanists. Proud of their success, they resolved that, after a brief rest, they would explore the higher regions, in hope to reap a rich harvest of Alpine plants.Solander, as a Swede and as a traveller in Norway, knew something of the dangers they would have to face.Bankshimself was not without experience. But both were enterprising and resolute men. They set out on their long march in the night of the fifteenth of January, in order to gain as much of daylight as possible for the work of botanizing. They hoped to return to the ship within ten hours. As they ascended,Solanderwarned his companions against the temptation that he knew awaited them of giving way to sleep when overcome by the toil of walking. ‘Whoever sits down,’ said he, ‘will be sure to sleep, and whoever sleeps will wake no more.’ But the fatigue proved to beexcessive. The foreseeing adviser was borne down by it, and was the first to throw himself upon the snow.Bankswas the younger man by six or seven years, and had a strong constitution. He fought resolutely against temptation, and, with the help of the draughtsmen, exerted himself with all his might to keepSolanderawake. They succeeded in getting him to walk on for a few miles more. Then he lay down again, with the words, ‘Sleep I must, for a few minutes.’ In those few minutes the fierce cold almost paralysed his limbs. Two servants (a seaman and a negro) imitated the Swede’s example, and were really paralysed. With much grief, it was found that the servants must, inevitably, be left to their fate. The party had wandered so far that when they set about to return they were—if the return should be by the way they had come—a long day’s journey from the ship. And their route had lain through pathless woods. Their only food was a vulture. A third man seemed in peril—momentarily—of death by exhaustion. Happily, a shorter cut was found. Their journey had not been quite fruitless. But they all felt that they had bought their botanical specimens at too dear a rate. Two men were already dead. One of the draughtsmen seems to have suffered so severely that he never recovered from the effects of the journey. Mr.Buchandied, three months afterwards, in Otaheite, just four days after they had landed in the celebrated island, to visit which was among the especial objects of their mission.
The stay in Otaheite.
The transit of Venus over the Sun’s disc was satisfactorily observed on the third of June,|1769.|but the observation had been nearly foiled by the roguery of a native, who had carried off the quadrant. The thief was found amongst several hundred of his fellows, and, but for a characteristic combination inBanksof frank good humour and of firm hardihood,the spoil would not have been recovered. On this, as upon many other occasions, both his fine personal qualities and his genial manners marked him as a natural leader of men. On occasions, however, of a more delicate kind they brought him into a peculiar peril. QueenObereafell in love with him. She was not herself without attractions. And they were clad in all the graces of unadorned simplicity. The poetical satirists of his day used Sir Joseph—after his return—with cruel injustice if he was really quite so successful, in resisting feminine charms in Otaheite, as he had formerly been at home.
The Voyage to New Holland.
But however that may have been, his researches, as a naturalist, at Otaheite were abundantly successful. And to the island, in return, he was a friend and benefactor.|1769–1770.|After a stay of three months the explorers left Otaheite for New Holland on the 15th of August, 1769. In Australia their collections were again very numerous and valuable. But their long stay in explorations exposed them to two great dangers, each of which was very nearly fatal to Mr.Banksand to most of his companions. They struck upon a rock, while coasting New South Wales. Their escape was wonderful. The accident entailed an amount of injury to the ship which brought them presently within a peril more imminent still. Whilst making repairs in the noxious climate of Batavia, a pestilence seized upon nearly all the Europeans. Seven, including the ship’s surgeon, died in Batavia. Twenty-three, including the second draughtsman, Mr.Parkinson, died on shipboard afterwards.BanksandSolanderwere so near death that their recovery seemed, to their companions, almost miraculous.
The Return Home.
After leaving New South Wales and Batavia they had a prosperous passage|1771. June.|to the Cape—prosperous, save for the loss of those whom the pestilence had previously stricken—andmade some additions to their scientific stores.The Endeavouranchored in the Downs on the 12th of June, 1771, after an absence of nearly three years. Beyond the immediate and obvious scientific results of the voyage, it was the means, eventually, of conferring an eminent benefaction on our West Indian Colonies. It gave them the Bread-Fruit tree (Artocarpus incisa). The transplantation ofGod’sbounties from clime to clime was a favourite pursuit—and a life-long one—with Sir JosephBanks, and its agencies cost him much time and thought, as well as no small expenditure of fortune.
The hardships and sufferings of Terra-del-Fuego and of Batavia had not yet taken off the edge of his appetite for remote voyages.|The Expedition to Iceland.|He expended some thousands of pounds in buying instruments and making preparations for a new expedition withCook,|1772. July.|but the foolish and obstructive conduct of our Navy Board inspired him with a temporary disgust. He then turned his attention to Northern Europe. He resolved that after visiting the western isles of Scotland he would explore Iceland.Solanderwas again his companion, together with two other northern naturalists, Drs.LindandVon Troil.Bankschartered a vessel at his own cost (amounting, for the ship alone, to about six hundred pounds).
Before starting for the cold north, they refreshed their eyes with the soft beauties of the Isle of Wight. There, said one of the delighted party, ‘Nature has spared none of her favours;’ and a good many of us have unconsciously repeated his remark, long afterwards. They reached the Western Isles of Scotland before the end of July, and, after a long visit, explored Staffa, the wonders of which were then almost unknown. Scientific attention, indeed,was first called to them byBanks, when he communicated to ThomasPennant, of Downing, his minute survey, and his drawings of the basaltic columns.
He thought that the mind can scarcely conceive of anything more splendid, in its kind, than the now famous cave.|The Visit to Staffa.|When he asked the local name of it, his guide gave him an answer which, to Mr.Banks, seemed to need explanation,|1772. August 12.|though the name has nowadays become but too familiar to our ears. ‘The Cave ofFiuhn,’ said the islander. ‘Who or what is “Fiuhn”?’ rejoinedBanks. The stone, he says, of which the pillars are formed, is a coarse kind of basalt, much resembling the ‘Giants’ Causeway’ in Ireland, ‘though none of them so neat as the specimens of the latter which I have seen at the British Museum....|Banks to Pennant; Aug., 1772.|Here, it is dirty brown; in the Irish, a fine black.’ But he carried away with him the fullest impression of the amazing grandeur of the whole scene.
The Tour in Iceland.
The tourists reached Iceland on the twenty-eighth of August. They explored the country, and saw everything notable which it contained. On the twenty-first of September they visited the most conspicuous of thegeysers, or hot-springs, and spent thirteen hours in examining them. On the twenty-fourth, they explored Mount Hecla.
The most famous geyser described byVon Troil(who acted usually as penman for the party) was situate near a farm called Harkaudal, about two days’ journey from Hecla. You see, he tells us, a large expanse of fields shut in, upon one side, by lofty snow-covered mountains, far away, with their heads commonly shrouded in clouds, that occasionally sink (under the force of a prevalent wind) so as to conceal the slopes, while displaying the peaks. The peaks, at such moments, seem to spring out of the clouds themselves. On another hand, Hecla is seen, with its three ice-capped summits,and its volcanic vapours; and then, again, a ridge of stupendous rocks, at the foot of which the boiling springs gush forth, with deafening roar, and are backed by a broad marsh containing forty or fifty other springs, or ‘geysers,’ from which arise immense columns of vapour, subject of course to all the influences and lightings-up of wind and sky. Our tourists carefully watched the ‘spoutings’ of the springs—which are always fitful—and, according to their joint observations, some of these rose to the height of sixty feet.|Von Troil to Bergmann; 7 Sept., 1773. (Abridged.)|Occasionally—it has since been observed by later explorers—they reach to an elevation of more than three times that number of feet.
Nor did Mr.Banksneglect the literature of Iceland, which abounds with interest. He bought the Library of HalfdanEinarsson, the literary historian of Iceland, and made other large and choice collections. And he presented the whole to the British Museum—after bestowing, I believe, some personal study on their contents—upon his return to England at the close of the year.
Social position and influence of Sir Joseph Banks.
For many generations, it has been very conducive to the possession of social prestige in this country that a man should have acquired the reputation of an adventurous traveller. Even if the traveller shall have seen no anthropophagi, no men ‘whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders,’ he is likely to attain to some degree of social eminence, merely as one who has explored those
‘Antres vast and desarts idle,’
‘Antres vast and desarts idle,’
‘Antres vast and desarts idle,’
‘Antres vast and desarts idle,’
of which home-keeping people have no knowledge, save from the tales of voyagers. To prestige of this kind, Mr.Banksadded respectable scientific attainments, a large fortune, and a liberal mind. He was also the favouredpossessor of graceful manners and of no mean powers of conversation. It was, therefore, quite in the ordinary course of things that his house in London should become one of the social centres of the metropolis. It became much more than that. From the days of his youthBankshad seen much of foreigners; he had mixed with men of European distinction. An extensive correspondence with the Continent became to him both a pursuit and an enjoyment, and one of its results, in course of time, was that at his house in Soho Square every eminent foreigner who came to England was sure to be seen. To another class of persons that house became scarcely less distinguished as the abode, not only of the rich Collections in natural history which their owner had gone so far to seek, and had gathered with so much toil and hardship, but of a noble Library, for the increase of which the book-shops of every great town in Europe had been explored.
The Royal Society, and its history under the rule of Sir Joseph Banks.
The possessor of such manifold distinctions and of such habits of mind seemed, to most men, marked out as the natural head of a great scientific institution. Such a man would be sure to reflect honour on the Society, as well as to derive honour from his headship. But at this particular epoch the Royal Society (then the one conspicuous scientific association in the kingdom) was much embroiled. Mr.Bankswas, in many respects, just the man to assuage dissensions. But these particular dissensions were of a kind which his special devotion to natural history tended rather to aggravate than to soften.
Mathematicians, as all men know, have been illustrious benefactors to the world, but—be the cause what it may—they have never been famous for a large-minded estimate of the pursuits and hobbies of other men, whom Nature had not made mathematical. At the time when JosephBanksleaped—as one may say—into eminence, both scientific and social, in London, Sir JohnPringlewas President of the Royal Society, and his position there somewhat resembled the position in which we have seen Sir HansSloaneto have been placed.|See before, Book I, c. 6.|Like Sir Hans,Pringlewas an eminent physician, and a keen student of physics. He did not give umbrage to his scientific team, exactly in the way in whichSloanehad given it—by an overweening love of reading long medical papers. But natural, not mathematical, philosophy, was his forte; and the mathematicians were somewhat uneasy in the traces whilst Sir John held the reins. IfPringleshould be succeeded byBanks, there would be a change indeed on the box, but the style of coachmanship was likely to be little altered. It is not surprising that there should have been a good deal of jibbing, just as the change was at hand, and also for some time after it had been made.
The election to the Presidency.
Mr.Bankswas elected to the chair of the Royal Society on the 30th of November, 1777. He found it to be a very difficult post.|1777. 30 Nov.|But, in the end, the true geniality of the man, the integrity of his nature, and the suavity of his manners, won over most, if not quite all, of his opponents. The least that can be said of his rule in that chair is that he made the Royal Society more famous throughout Europe, than it had ever been since the day when it was presided over byNewton.
For it was not the least eminent quality ofBanks’character that, to him, a touch ofscience‘made the whole world kin.’ He was a good subject, as well as a good man. He knew the blessings of an aristocratic and time-honoured monarchy. He had that true insight which enables a man to discriminate sharply between the populace and the People.But, when the interests of science came into play, he could say—with literal and exactest truth,—
‘Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur.’
‘Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur.’
‘Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur.’
‘Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur.’
He took a keen and genial delight both in watching and in promoting the progress of science on the other side of the Channel, whether France itself lay under the loose rule of the republican and dissolute Directory, or under the curbing hand of the First Consul, who was already rapidly aspiring towards empire.
On ten several occasions,Bankswas the means of inducing our Government to restore scientific collections, which had been captured by British cruisers, to that magnificent Botanic Garden (theJardin des Plantes, at Paris) for which they had been originally destined.|Cuvier,Éloge de M. Banks, passim.|Such conduct could not but win for him the affectionate reverence of Frenchmen. On one eminent occasion his good services went much further.
Banks’ intervention with respect to some of the fruits of the Expedition of la Pérouse.
Men yet remember the European interest excited by the adventurous expedition and the sad fate of the gallant seaman, John FrancisDe La Pérouse. When the long search forLa Pérouse, which had been headed by the French AdmiralBruni d’Eutrecasteaux, came by discords to an untimely end, the collection of specimens of natural history which had been made, in the course of it, byDe La Billardière, was brought into an English port. The commander, it seems, felt much asSloane’scaptain[21]had felt at the time of our own Revolution of 1688. FromLewis the Sixteenthhe had received his commission. He was unprepared to yield an account of its performance to anybody else. He brought his cargo to England, andplaced it at the absolute disposal of the French emigrant Princes.
By the eldest Prince, afterwardsLewis the Eighteenth, directions were given that an offer should be made to QueenCharlotteto place at Her Majesty’s disposal whatever she might be pleased to select from the Collections ofLa Billardière, and that all the remainder of them should be given to the British Museum.
To the interests of that Museum no man of sense will think that Sir JosephBankswas, at any time, indifferent. At this particular time, he had been, repeatedly, an eminent benefactor to it. By the French Prince the Collections were put at his orders for the advantage of the Museum, of which he was now a Trustee, as well as a benefactor. But his first thought was for the national honour of Britain, not for the mere aggrandizement of its Museum. ‘I have never heard,’ saidBanks, ‘of any declaration of war between the philosophers of England and the philosophers of France. These French Collections must go to the French Museum, not to the British.’ And to France he sent them, without a moment’s hesitation. Such an act, I take it, is worthy of the name of ‘cosmopolitanism.’ The bastard imitation, sometimes current under that much abused term—that which knows of no love of country, except upon a clear balance of mercantile profit—might be more fitly called by a plainer word.
Instances of Banks’ liberality to Humboldt.
Nor were Frenchmen the only persons to benefit by the largeness of view which belonged to the new President of the Royal Society. At a later period, he heard that Collections which had been made by WilliamVon Humboldt, and subsequently seized by pirates, had been carried to the Cape, and there detained.Bankssent to the Cape a commission for their release, and restoration to the Collector.He defrayed the expenses, and refused to accept of any reimbursement. Such actions might well reflect honour on the Royal Society, as well as on the man whom the wisest among its fellows had placed at their head.
The Royal Society had but a share of its President’s attention, though the share was naturally a Benjamin’s portion. He worked assiduously on the Board of Agriculture. He helped to found the Horticultural Society and the Royal Institution of London. He became, also, in 1788, a co-founder of that ‘African Institution’ which contributed so largely, in the earlier years of this century, to promote geographical discovery in Africa, and to spread—of dire necessity, at but a snail’s pace—some of the blessings of Christian civilization to those dark places of the earth which are full of cruelty.
Banks’close intercourse with the Continent enabled him to do yeoman’s service to the African Institution. Many ardent and aspiring young men in all parts of Europe were fired, from time to time, with an ambition to do some stroke or other of good work in an enterprise which was, at once, scientific and, in its ultimate issues, evangelical. Some of the aspirants were, of course, but very partially fitted or equipped for such labours. But among those who entered on it with fairest promise the protégés ofBankswere conspicuous. Some brief notice of the services he was enabled to render in this direction belongs, however, more fitly, to a somewhat later date than that at which we have, as yet, arrived.
Banks’ favourable reception at the Court of George III.
Among the Fellows of the Royal Society there had been much division of opinion as to the eligibility of JosephBanksfor their Presidency. At Court, there was none.George the Third, with all his genuine good nature, hadbeen unable to restrain a lurking dislike of Sir JohnPringle’sfriendly intercourse with BenjaminFranklin. He was pleased to seePringleretire to his native Scotland, and to receiveBanksat Court, in Sir John’s place. He did not then anticipate that the new President would, one day, offend (for a moment) his irrepressible prejudices in a somewhat like manner.
Sometimes, Sir Joseph’s attendance at Court brought him into company which had become to him, in some degree, unwonted. We have seen him making a very favourable impression in the feminine circles at Otaheite. But the ladies in attendance on QueenCharlottewere less charmed with him. In March, 1788, I find FannyBurneydiarizing (at Windsor Castle) thus:—‘Sir JosephBankswas so exceedingly shy that we made no acquaintance at all. If, instead of going round the world, he had only fallen from the moon, he could not appear less versed in the usual modes of a tea-drinking party.|D’Arblay,Diary, vol. iv, p. 128.|But what, you will say, has a tea-party to do with a botanist, a man of science, and a President of the Royal Society?’
In March, 1779, Mr.Banksmade a happy marriage with DorotheaHugessen, daughter and coheir of William WestonHugessen, of Provender, in Kent. Two years afterwards, the King made him a Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath, and cultivated his familiar and frequent acquaintance both in town and at Windsor. Ere long, he was still further honoured with the rank of a Privy Councillor. Both men were deeply interested in agriculture and in the improvement of stock. Sir Joseph shared his sovereign’s liking for the Merino breeds; took an active part in managing those in Windsor Park, and for many years presided, very successfully, over the annualsales. The King had been willing to give away his surplus stock, for the mere sake of promoting improvement, but he was made to see that more good was likely to accrue from sales than from gifts. When in Lincolnshire Sir JosephBankslaboured hard for the more complete drainage of the fens, and in many ways furthered the introduction of sound agricultural methods. He was a good neighbour; though not a very keen sportsman. And most of his time was now necessarily passed either in London or in its neighbourhood. But, among other acts of good fellowship, he rarely visited Reresby Abbey without patronising a picnic ball at Horncastle, for the benefit of the public dispensary of that town. And it was noted by Lincolnshire people that when, in the after-years, Sir Joseph’s severe sufferings from gout kept him much away from Reresby, the dispensary suffered also—from depletion—until Mr.Dymoke, of Scrivelsby, had revived, afterBanks’example, the good old annual custom of the town.