British Birds in Memory of 1843-1916

British Birds Established 1907; incorporating 'The Zoologist', established 1843

In memory of

1843-1916 W. R. P. Bourne

Apparently, British Birds is now usually considered to have been founded by H. F. Witherby and others in 1907, and it appears to have been almost entirely forgotten that it incorporates another distinguished journal which would otherwise recently have been celebrating its 150th anniversary. Since it was in fact the first publication to promote popular ornithology, and its career provides many instructive lessons, it may be useful to reconsider it. British scientific journals have a history of diversification. Biology already occupied part of the Philosophical Transactions started in 1665 by a gentlemen's club in London devoted to the study of sciences which happened to include King Charles II, and which therefore became known as the Royal Society, whereas omer nations have National Academies of Science (it is an interesting reflection that if his father had been a bit more sociable this society might have been devoted to the arts instead). In due course, people such as the Rev. Gilbert White and Dr Edward Jenner (who also introduced vaccination) began to publish observations on bird migration there (which would not happen today). Biology first acquired its own scientific journals with the foundation of the Transactions of the Linnaean Society to perpetuate the mainly botanical work of the Swede Carl von Linne (or Carolus Linnaeus), who unfortunately had no binoculars with which to watch birds, in 1791, and the complementary Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London in 1830. By now, the study of natural history had become one of the main relaxations of the increasingly leisured landed gentry and their innumerable younger brothers in the armed forces, the church, the

[Brit. Hints 88: 1-4, January 1995] 1 2 In memory of 'The Zoologist' professions, trade, and the colonial services. When natural history articles often proved successful in more general publications, many attempts were then made to start popular natural history journals during the long period of peace, improved education, and disorderly literary activity that broke out after the Napoleonic- wars. Most of these publications appeared only erratically and soon faded away or were combined, so that they are now hard to trace and disentangle, but one editor of genius emerged. According to his long obituary by Harting in The Zoologist for 1876, Edward Newman was born of a family of Quaker naturalists at Hampstead in 1801, and was reared on a diet of Gilbert White, Thomas Bewick, and Bingley's Quadrupeds. His father took up the wool trade in Godalming, hoping to provide him with an occupation, but he neglected it for rural pursuits with friends, writing up their activities before breakfast under the pseudonym of 'Rusticus'. In 1826, the wool trade was exchanged for the rope trade in urban Deptford in the hope that, if young Edward were given enough rope, he might take more interest in it. Instead, he helped found our oldest entomological society, the Entomologists' Club, and in 1832 started The Entomological Magazine for them. His activities also included walking tours of Wales, Scotland and Ireland. In 1837, he finally abandoned rope for writing and printing books on science. In 1840, The Entomological Magazine was replaced by The Entomologist, in 1841 he started The Phytologist, and in 1843 enlarged The Entomologist and renamed it The Zoologist, which then lasted 73 years. The preface to the first volume, which might also be regarded as the Founding Charter of British Birds, starts: 'The attempt to combine scientific truths with readable English, has been considered by my friends as one of surpassing rashness; and many have been the kind and pressing solicitations I have received to desist from labour so hopeless—many the supplications to introduce a few Latin descriptions, just to give the work a scientific character. In reply to my friends, I would beg to instance White's Selbome . . . written in pure, plain, intelligible English... White is now no more, but his mantle has fallen upon others:- a multitude of observers have risen in the same field, and, what is more to my purpose, have become contributors to the pages of The Zoologist. Nature herself is exhaustless: our field of observation is wider, a thousand-fold, than White ever enjoyed; our capacity for observation is certainly no less. These are the grounds I have for hoping The Zoologist will succeed . . . 'I wish that every district should have a chronicler of its Natural History, and that Ttw Zoologist should be the receptacle for all. My part in connection with The Zoologist is widely different from that of editors in general. I am no intellectual giant, through the ordeal of whose searching criticism each contribution must pass before its publication. Everyone who subscribes a single fact is welcome—nay, more than that—has a direct claim to be admitted as a contributor. My only duties are, first, to give the facts something like arrangement—to associate, as much as possible, those which relate to one group or one class of animals, and to print every communication relating to that group before I proceed to another; and, secondly, to defray the charges incidental to publication: and since every item of expenditure is conducted with a view to strict economy, the proceeds from a very moderate sale would be sufficient to reimburse me.' These are fine sentiments that one wishes more editors would conform to, though there is room for doubt about his declaration that he was no intellectual giant and would refrain from heavy editing. He seems to have processed his material remarkably rapidly, most contributions appearing in the next issue (a model mat one wishes some other editors would follow!). By Victorian standards, he produced a tight, clear text in an idiosyncratic publication, printed in small, crowded type approaching the edges of thin pages numbered consecutively throughout the first two series, which he edited himself during 1843-65 (9,848 British Birds, vol. 88, no. 1, January 1995 3 pages) and 1866-76 (5,180 pages), and bound economically, the equivalent of desk-top publishing of that day, though he did not include the advertisements already rife elsewhere. Subsequently, J. E. Harting (series 3, 1877-96) and W. L. Distant followed by Frank Finn (series 4, 1897-1916) produced a progressively more conventional journal. The Zoologist contained long serialised articles sometimes reprinted from other publications (and it is now often the most convenient source to find these); a host of short notes; occasional annual prefaces commenting on current events; and a few book reviews, covering the entire Animal Kingdom throughout the world until The Entomologist was separated again, in 1864. Initially, half the space was devoted to birds, rising to two-thirds later, whereas its competitors contained less about birds until the appearance of The Ibis in 1859 (which was welcomed, and its contents often reprinted or quoted), so that The Zoologist (and its successor, British Birds) must be considered our senior ornithological publication. There were many systematic lists, including the first regular local bird reports mostly from Britain and Ireland, so that The Zoologist often provides a better record of current events and attitudes than do more pretentious publications. By 1857, Newman could say in his annual preface that he was now able to publish only half the material sent to him. It is difficult to summarise briefly the contents of such a comprehensive journal which eventually filled a whole bookcase, but a few examples may show their nature. In 1857, Newman also apologised abjectly for including an 'offensive' article by one Dr Knox, rightly comparing British anatomists unfavourably with French ones, since 'with polemics and politics The Zoologist can have nothing to do'. He then mentions an essay of his own on the 'Employment of Physiological Characters in the Classification of Animals', and ends by denouncing museums for their lifeless exhibits. There is then silence until, in 1873, he complained that, while he had lost a few subscribers from the revival of The Entomologist, there was regrettably also another reason, because: 'It cannot and need not be concealed that the circulation of The Zoologist has also been diminished by its opposition to the seductive and popular hypothesis of Evolution so ably and unceasingly advocated by Mr Darwin and his followers ... in all ages of the world persecution has been the weapon of error, and has always failed to accomplish its objective, the suppression of truth.' This is rather a change from the famous meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science at Oxford in 1860 where Bishop 'Soapy Sam' Wilberforce wished to know whether the evolutionists were descended from monkeys on their father's or their mother's side! Once the ageing Newman, who died in harness, had been replaced by Harting, the journal appears in a different light, publishing an exposition of the trinomial nomenclature by the great J. A. Allen as early as 1883, and still allowing Ruskin Butterfield to defend this lost cause, anathema to a past British Establishment, as late as 1906. It is therefore rather unfair that, after it had pioneered the publication of the Hastings Records, it lost the later ones to a new rival with more ornithological expertise, British Birds. Sadly, it is to be feared that its amalgamation with this journal in 1916, attributed to a 'shortage of subscribers', may also be associated with the way in which many of its contributors, formerly very active in such places as the Crimea, had now started submitting notes from Flanders and the Dardanelles. 4 In memory of LThe Zoologist' There are a number of morals to be drawn from the history of The Zoologist. In the first place, a great journal is initially created by its editor, preferably a good writer with a broad knowledge of his subject, ready to take endless pains, but also prepared to allow authors free expression, instead of trying to impose a rigid orthodoxy over even trivial matters. The Zoologist appears to have been created by Edward Newman, who gave it enough momentum to sustain it for several decades. When it relapsed into orthodoxy, it eventually went to the wall because, in the words of the old maxim about the Gatling gun, British Birds had got a progressive editor, Harry Witherby, and it had not. Secondly, a great author or editor needs adequate support. Primarily this means a circle of like-minded friends. It should also be noted that both Edward Newman and Harry Witherby were primarily publishers, which must have given them a freedom of action unknown to those answerable to a horde of conventionally minded referees, editorial boards, directors, and councils and societies. Thirdly, while it is nice to occupy an independent position allowing lots of freedom of action while times are good and one is a pioneer, when times become hard and the competition starts to increase it is not so nice. Fourthly, while a benevolent autocracy may often be a very good sort of government, keeping people in comfort while sparing them from any painful necessity for thought, it has one drawback: it is not easily susceptible to reform if the quality of management declines or it decides that it does not want to know about evolution. At this point, democratic government tends to come into its own, and enables the rank and file to impose changes without the necessity for revolution or replacement. Thus, for example, if The Zoologist had belonged to a society, it might have had more chance of surviving competition from British Birds instead of being forced out of business during a war. It is arguable that despite the fact that the most important component in The Zoologist, the ornithology, has been preserved and developed by British Birds, which on taking it over also decided to expand its own interests to cover the whole Western Palearctic, it was still a serious blow to the study of natural history in the former British Empire, removing the most important popular publication promoting an interest in all zoology throughout the world. This has helped concentrate the attention of the amateur observers on one conspicuous minor group of animals of limited practical importance in a restricted area, in much the same way that the overwhelming support built up by the RSPB has incidentally diverted the attention of most voluntary conservationists in Britain away from a long list of other more vulnerable but less obtrusive animals and plants, which have been allowed to enter a sustained decline. The final lesson to be learnt from the history of The Zoologist, therefore, is surely that, while originality and independence may be very fine things, when they start to serve important public functions, it is wise to organise more formal support, lest they be lost through decadence or by default. If we wish to continue to enjoy such publications as British Birds, steps need to be taken to maintain and defend them.

Dr W. R. P. Bourne, Department of Zoology, Aberdeen University, Tillydrone Avenue, Aberdeen AB9 2TN, Scotland