The Multifarious Mr. Banks: From Botany Bay to Kew, The Natural Historian Who Shaped the World 9780300252132

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THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS

Further praise for The Multifarious Mr Banks: ‘This well-researched and even-handed biography of Banks confirms his importance as a pioneering scientist, philanthropist and explorer.’ Graham Seal, author of The Savage Shore ‘A superbly written biography of the longest sitting president of the Royal Society.’ Professor H. Walter Lack, Freie Universität Berlin

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THE

MULTIFARIOUS

MR BANKS From Botany Bay to Kew, the Natural Historian Who Shaped the World

TOBY MUSGRAVE YALE UNIVERSIT Y PRESS NEW HAVEN AND LONDON iii

Copyright © 2020 Toby Musgrave All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press) without written permission from the publishers. For information about this and other Yale University Press publications, please contact: U.S. Office: [email protected] yalebooks.com Europe Office: [email protected] yalebooks.co.uk Set in Adobe Garamond Pro by IDSUK (DataConnection) Ltd Printed in Great Britain by Gomer Press Ltd, Llandysul, Cerdigion, Wales Library of Congress Control Number: 2020932737 ISBN 978-0-300-22383-5 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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This book is in memoriam of my brother Will, with whom I first wrote about Banks in 1998 and who died too young on 17 April 2016. You are much missed.

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Contents

List of Illustrations Acknowledgements Introduction CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3

I II III IV V VI CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6

I II III CHAPTER 7

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ix xii xv The Banks Family and the Young Joseph Newfoundland and Labrador HMS Endeavour Planning To Tahiti Tahiti at Last New Zealand Botany Bay and Endeavour River Batavia, Home and Outcomes The Hero and the Egotist To Iceland: The Independent Explorer The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew The Enlightened Botanist A New Acquisitions Paradigm Botany, Economics and Empire The Father of Australia Establishing the Penal Settlement vii

1 24 36 36 56 74 97 112 125 139 162 176 176 186 212 224 224

CONTENTS II CHAPTER 8

I II III CHAPTER 9

Securing the Future . . . and Sheep The Scientist-Enabler The President of the Royal Society The Multifarious Savant The Dedicated Activists The Last Two Decades

A Note on Banks’s Journals & Correspondence A Note on Banks’s Date of Birth Endnotes List of Abbreviations Bibliography Index

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246 260 260 279 294 317 333 336 337 350 351 358

Illustrations

BETWEEN PP. 110–111

1 A portrait of the young Sir Joseph Banks, attributed to John Opie, c. 1790. Kerry Stokes Collection, Perth. 2 Revesby Abbey by John Claude Nattes, 1789. Lincolnshire Archives. 3 Eton College by Canaletto, c. 1754. 4 The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes by John Gerard, 1597. Toovey’s Fine Art Auctioneers and Valuers. 5 A view of Peckwater Quadrangle at Christ Church, Oxford, 1812. Historic Images / Alamy. 6 A plan of Fort York, Chateau Bay, Labrador. Map reproduction courtesy of the Norman B. Leventhal Map & Education Center at the Boston Public Library / CC BY-NC-SA. 7 Type specimen of Rosa blanda, 1766. NHM Images © The Trustees of the Natural History Museum, London. 8 HMS Endeavour off the Coast of New Holland by Samuel Atkins, c. 1794. 9 Captain James Cook, Sir Joseph Banks, Lord Sandwich, Dr Daniel Solander and Dr John Hawkesworth by John Hamilton Mortimer, 1771. National Library of Australia, nla.obj-135646842. 10 Two pages from Banks’s journal aboard HMS Endeavour. State Library New South Wales / CC BY 4.0. ix

ILLUSTRATIONS 11 Inhabitants of the Island of Terra del Fuego in their Hut by Alexander Buchan, 1769. 12 View of Matavai Bay by William Hodges, 1773. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. 13 A botanical sketch of breadfruit by Sydney Parkinson, 1773. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. 14 A self-portrait of Sydney Parkinson, c. 1770. 15 A New Zealand war canoe by T. Prattent after Sydney Parkinson, c. 1784. Prattent, T, active 1780–1800. Parkinson, Sydney, 1745–1771:Representation of a war canoe of New Zealand, with a view of Gable End Foreland. / Prattent sculp. London, Alexr. Hogg, [1784?]. Ref: B-085-013. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/22861896. 16 Banksia serrata specimen and Old Man Banksia by Sydney Parkinson. The Natural History Museum / Alamy. 17 Sir Joseph Banks’s shells, drawer 6, cowrie collection. NHM Images © The Trustees of the Natural History Museum, London. 18 The Fly Catching Macaroni by Matthew Darly, 1772. British Museum, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0. 19 A portrait of Joseph Banks by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1773. © National Portrait Gallery, London. 20 An engraving of Fingal’s cave on Staffa after a drawing by John Cleveley Jr, c. 1774. 21 View of a mountain, near Hekla with a view of a travelling caravan by John Cleveley Jr, Add MS. 15511, f.48. © British Library Board. All Rights Reserved / Bridgeman Images. BETWEEN PP. 174–175

22 Wedgwood cameos of Joseph and Dorothea Banks by John Flaxman Jr, 1780. 23 32 Soho Square, 1812. The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics. CTG Publishing / CC Licence. 24 A plan of the Royal Manor of Richmond by Peter Burrell, 1771. Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2019. x

ILLUSTRATIONS 25 Amaryllis belladonna, Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, 1804. 26 A portrait of Francis Masson by George Garrard. Permission of the Linnean Society of London. 27 A portrait of Archibald Menzies. © RBG KEW. 28 The Mutineers turning Lieut Bligh and part of the Officers and Crew adrift from His Majesty’s Ship the Bounty by Robert Evans Dodd, 1789. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. 29 Sirius & Convoy Going in: Supply & agents division in the bay. 21 Janry 1788 by William Bradley from his journal A Voyage to New South Wales, 1802. Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales. 30 A view of Sydney Cove from the north shore of the harbour. The Natural History Museum / Alamy. 31 The residence of John Macarthur Esq. near Parramatta N.S.W. by Joseph Lycett, c. 1824. 32 A Merino Sheep, c. 1886. Antiqua Print Gallery / Alamy. 33 The Society of Dilettanti by Charles Algernon Tomkins, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, mid-nineteenth century. © National Portrait Gallery, London. 34 The reflector telescope built by William Herschel. Pictorial Press Ltd / Alamy. 35 The marine chronometer from John Franklin’s Northwest Passage expedition. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. 36 A plate from Travels in the Interior Districts of Africa by Mungo Park, 1799. 37 The Ramsden theodolite used for the triangulation survey. 38 The first nationwide geological map of Britain by William ‘Strata’ Smith, 1815. 39 The great South Sea Caterpillar, transform’d into a Bath Butterfly by James Gillray, 1795. 40 Samuel Johnson and James Boswell at the Literary Club in London, 1700s. North Wind Picture Archives / Alamy. 41 A portrait of Sir Joseph Banks by Thomas Phillips, 1815. © The Royal Society. 42 The coat of arms of Sir Joseph Banks. 43 First Communication with the Natives of Prince Regents Bay by John Sackhouse, 1818. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London. 44 Interior of the Palm House at the Royal Botanic Garden, Kew. © RBG KEW. xi

Acknowledgements

My first and biggest ‘thank you’ must go to my perennially tolerant wife Vibeke for her never-failing good humour, inspired ideas and stoic forbearance – you are a pillar of wisdom and support. Tusind tak, min dejlige kone. It is not possible to write on Banks without a deep debt of gratitude to those who have walked the path before, in particular the Australian scientist Harold B. Carter and the novelist and biographer Patrick O’Brian for their revealing biographies. I am also grateful to the editors of Banks’s various travel journals, who included so much in the way of insightful notes: Averil M. Lysaght, the New Zealand biologist on the Newfoundland journal; the New Zealand historian and scholar John Beaglehole on the Endeavour journal; and most recently the Icelandic historian Anna Agnarsdóttir on the Iceland journal. And thanks go too to those who have researched and published, and who continue to research and publish, on Banks’s specific activities, endeavours and spheres of influence, in particular Harold B. Carter once again, and more recently the Australian academic John Gascoigne. Last but by no means least a great debt is owed to Neil Chambers, executive director of the Sir Joseph Banks Archive Project, for his peerless and tireless work organising thematically the Banks correspondence, and for the multiple volumes that have resulted from it. However, in this day and age it cannot but be regretted that the results are available only in print form and not, like the University of Cambridge’s Darwin Correspondence Project, available online too. xii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS With Banks’s surviving correspondence and papers so globally distributed in about fifty institutions, a debt of thanks is owed to staff at the various institutions who have cheerfully, promptly and helpfully responded to my diverse queries. Thanks go in particular to Cecilia Alvik and Alison Kenney at the City of Westminster Archives Centre; to Judith Curthoys at Christ Church; to Jose Guerrero at the Sutro Library; to Kathryn Jones at Lincolnshire Archives; to Sarah Morley and Elsie Edmonds at the State Library of New South Wales; to Dr Martin Nickol, keeper of the Botanic Garden at the University of Kiel; to Dr Jörg Rathjen at the Landesarchiv Schleswig-Holstein; to Philip Temple at the Survey of London; and to the librarians of the Royal Society and the Society of Antiquaries of London. Last, but by no means least, thank you to Heather McCallum and her team at Yale University Press for their enthusiasm, their preternatural patience during the writing process and for giving me the opportunity to turn a long-held wish into a reality.

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Batavia, Oct–Dec. 1770

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Ala ska

Apr.–July 1769

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3000 km

Tuamotu Islands

Society Tahiti, Islands

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Botany Bay, May 1770

Endeavour River, June–Aug. 1770

New Guinea

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Cape Horn, 25 Jan. 1769

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Cape of Good Hope, 14 Mar. 1771

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London, Aug. 1768

Ascension

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St Helena, 1 May 1771 Rio de Janeiro, 13 Nov. 1768

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Madeira, 16 Sept. 1768

July 1771

Introduction

Sir Joseph Banks was only twenty-five years old when in 1768 he convinced both the prestigious Royal Society and the bureaucratic Admiralty that he should join HMS Endeavour as expedition natural historian. He personally paid a fortune to undertake the three-year voyage led by James Cook, and en route became the first European to make an extensive study of the natural history and anthropology of Tahiti,1 New Zealand and Australia. He is said to have had an affair with the ‘queen of Tahiti’ and, upon his return, he jilted his fiancée. Later, as a close personal friend of King George III, he persuaded the monarch that he was the man to develop the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew. Under Banks’s leadership it became the world’s leading botanic garden, a position it still holds today. It was from Kew that Banks co-ordinated another voyage to Tahiti, in order to collect breadfruit trees, a venture that culminated in the infamous ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’. Banks also became the longest-serving president of the Royal Society (1778–1820), and while in the chair was accused of scientific bias, of being a ‘virtuoso’ and of national disloyalty in a time of war. He was also the target of satirical lampoons and caricatures which dealt indelicately with his sexual mores and latterly his royal friendship, ‘the great South Sea Caterpillar’ who was ‘transformed into a Bath Butterfly’. But Banks was also – among his many other achievements – the man who advocated Mungo Park’s exploration of Africa, championed the establishment of a new penal colony at Botany Bay, contributed

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INTRODUCTION greatly to the planning of Matthew Flinders’s first circumnavigation of Australia, and from London expended much effort securing the long-term viability and success of New South Wales; work for which he earned the sobriquet ‘father of Australia’. Charismatic and engaging, Banks inspired easy friendships that enabled him to develop and work an extensive and influential network. Perennially curious, his gift of finding interests in common with people of all ages and classes made his life one of rich discovery in the widest sense. Self-determined and enterprising, with a keen ability to discern opportunities, he was a consummate organiser who effectively progressed projects from conception to conclusion. He was honourable and deeply patriotic, but he could also be stiffly polite, withering in rebuke, overbearing and unforgiving, and certain contemporaries commented on his social unconformity. Banks was one of the most prominent and influential men of his age: a leading scientific influence on the English Enlightenment and a pivotal figure in the development and expansion of British domestic and imperial ambitions. Heralded as the most famous man in England when he returned with Cook from his first circumnavigation, he became the centre of a network of more than 600 international correspondents, including the great Linnaeus. Yet in the century following his death, Banks fell into obscurity. In an age of subject specialisation, new generations of scientists excluded him and dismissed his contributions as ‘amateur’. He continues to be a curiously neglected figure in his native country, overlooked in part because, unlike his peers Joseph Priestley (the innovative research scientist) and Lord Robert Clive (the military adventurer-coloniser), his interests were almost too broad: although certainly a man with many sides to his character, many accomplishments to his name, he is difficult to classify and label under a single heading: he lacks a single unique accomplishment by which historians might simply categorise him. A savant, a dedicated improver in the true Enlightenment sense and a strong believer in the Baconian model of scientific discovery, he loomed large over an age when science and Britain were both rapidly advancing and expanding their

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INTRODUCTION spheres of influence. It is time we take a new look at this compelling gentleman, who through his multifarious achievements, shaped the world. 

And just one editorial note: where Banks is quoted I have not corrected his idiosyncrasies of spelling and grammar; they are part of the character of the man.

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ONE 

The Banks Family and the Young Joseph

THE BANKS FAMILY

A son was born on 13 February 1743 at 30 Argyll Street in Soho, London to William (1719–61) and Sarah Banks (1719–1804), both then aged twenty-four. The announcement of this happy event in that month’s issue of The Gentleman’s Magazine1 was one of only seven, and the only one in which the mother was not listed as noble, royal or the ‘lady’ of her husband. That the birth was announced at all, however, was indicative that the father’s status warranted it, but that Sarah was identified only as the ‘wife’ of a member of Parliament suggests that the editor considered the family as arriviste – which indeed it was. At his baptism in the Sir Christopher Wren-designed church of St James’s Piccadilly, a fortnight later on 9 March, the boy was christened Joseph. His parents had wed in London seventeen months previously on 26 September 1741. Their first residence was one of the four Argyll Buildings in Bruton Street from where, a fortnight before Joseph’s arrival, they moved the half-mile to Argyll Street. This was to remain the family’s London residence for the next eight years, and here too, on 28 October of the following year, was born Joseph’s only sibling, his sister Sarah Sophia (1744–1818). The house, with its narrow frontage of a mere 27 feet was one of thirty-five recently built in the short street created perpendicular to and south from the great Oxford Street by the influential architect James Gibbs along with two carpenters. In 1735–36 the three had jointly 1

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS agreed with John Campbell, second duke of Argyll, ‘to build on the ground of the said Duke . . . one New Street of dwelling Houses to be called Argyll Street’2. In return the duke agreed that when the third floor was laid on he would grant separate leases to the three entrepreneurs, or their nominees, for terms of seventy years from Lady Day 1736. Thus it was that William Banks paid a rent of £16 4s to George Pearce, a plumber from St Martin’s in the Fields who had purchased the lease.3 

The Bankses descended from one Simon Banke, a Swede who in 1334, the eighth year of the reign of Edward III, had established himself in Yorkshire. Through a profitable marriage the manor of Newton came into the family, where it remained until the mid-seventeenth century. From this Simon Banke the newlychristened Joseph was the eighteenth in lineal descent, and the fourth to bear the Christian name, following on from his uncle Joseph III (1715–40), grandfather Joseph II (1695–1741) and great-grandfather Joseph I (1665–1727). While not of aristocratic, noble or even gentry descent, the family pedigree in the last three generations was of good – and rich – upwardly mobile, country-squire stock. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, ‘our’ Joseph was to raise his family’s status higher still: the first Banks to become a young gentleman, to be ennobled, to become a well-respected society figure who could call the king a personal friend. It was Joseph I who had begun the family’s wealth accumulation and social elevation. Born in Giggleswick, Yorkshire, Joseph I trained as a lawyer in Sheffield before marrying Mary Hancock, daughter of a modestly wealthy nonconformist minister, on 5 August 1689. The pair lived in part of Shiercliffe Hall about a mile from the centre of Sheffield, and Joseph used his wife’s marriage portion of £400 as seed money for his financial advancement. In later life and perhaps mellowed by his achievements he was described as a ‘pleasant, very facetious companion’, and certainly in his younger years he was ambitious and able. A hard-working attorney and honest and efficient land agent to the dukes of Norfolk, of Leeds and of Newcastle, by whom he was held in high regard, Joseph 2

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH I was a shrewd property speculator too, and his fortune, which established the profitable financial framework that was to sustain the subsequent three generations, came mostly from land. But for the bourgeois urban mercantile and manufacturing class, more important still than the wealth landownership generated was its cachet as a vehicle for establishing social acceptability. By the time of his death Joseph I was lord of fourteen manors and enjoyed large land holdings across the country: a combination of disparate freehold, copyhold and leasehold estates in the counties of Essex, Middlesex, Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire; the manors of Cheadle and Kingsley in Staffordshire; further lands in Bedfordshire, Derbyshire, Hampshire, Hertfordshire, Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire and Rutlandshire, as well as the Holland estate in Lincolnshire, which he had purchased for £9,900 in 1702. The seal on his achievements was the purchase in 1714 of the extensive manor of Revesby, Wilksby and Kirkby Park with the associated closes, and the woodlands of Tumby, Fulsby and Sherwood. If the Revesby estate, which would become the Banks family seat, was a physical manifestation of Joseph I’s status as a ‘new man’, in his typically shrewd way it was also profitable. Situated at the southern extremity of the Lincolnshire Wolds, the estate was purchased for a remarkably inexpensive £14,000 while generating an annual return of just over £900. The low price may have had something to do with the seller’s nervousness. These were troubled political times; the two adversarial parties, the Tories and the Whigs, were at each other’s throats; a Protestant succession following the death of Queen Anne was by no means guaranteed; and the conditions that led to the Jacobite Rebellion of 1715 were clear for all to see. The flat, bleak rural landscape surrounding Revesby appeared perhaps neither inspiring nor picturesque but the Wolds were prime arable land and Joseph I, always with an eye on the long term, recognised the opportunities being brought by the Agricultural Revolution and set about releasing the potential of the rich, dark fenland soil by means of innovative drainage and land-reclamation projects. And with such improvements came substantial gains in rent. In 1715 the newly established country squire, respectable and respected, reached another important milepost along his journey of social advancement when he was elected as the Whig member of Parliament for Grimsby (and from 1722 for Totnes, where 3

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS he was returned as a Treasury nominee). The Jacobite Rebellion had discredited most of the Tory Party as traitorous and at the 1715 election the Whig Party – which championed constitutional monarchism and opposed absolute rule, had played a central role in the Glorious Revolution of 1688 and advocated the supremacy of Parliament – won an overwhelming majority in the House of Commons. So began the Whig Supremacy which saw the party control Parliament until 1760, and the accession of King George III. Dissolved c. 1539, Revesby Abbey itself had been a Cistercian house founded in 1143, with the first monks arriving from Rievaulx Abbey, north Yorkshire. The house Joseph I bought was more recent, built by the Howard family c. 1670. It was no object of beauty and now required years of improvements. As late as 1801 when it appeared as a plate engraved by Bartholomew Howlett in A Selection of Views in the County of Lincoln, the renovated house, set within a naturalistic parkland, appeared heavy, squat and ‘architecturally challenged’ (Plate 2). Sadly perhaps, given all the money spent on it, Revesby never became a cosy family home. The grandee Joseph I seems to have had plans to retire here, but died aged sixty-two of an infected wound sustained in a fall when inspecting roofing rafters of a new wing. His son, Joseph II, who seems to have respected if not loved his father, did not like the place. He had lived here by instruction to oversee his father’s eagerly planned renovations and moved out as soon as decently possible after his father’s death. Joseph II was the first of the family recorded as suffering from gout, a form of recurrent inflammatory arthritis that would plague ‘our’ Joseph in later life. Joseph II further advanced the family wealth by means of an advantageous marriage in 1714 to Anne, heiress of the wealthy mine-owner and merchant William Hodgkinson of Overton, Derbyshire. The couple had three sons and three daughters before Anne’s death in 1730 at the age of about thirtyfive. Joseph II fathered two further sons and another daughter by his second wife, Catherine Collingwood (1706–36), whom he wed in 1731. Although fecund, Joseph II seems to have been somewhat feckless, leading a comfortable yet somewhat fragmentary and indolent life punctuated by the grief of double widowerhood. His election as a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1730 indicates a modicum of intellectual interests, but his was a passive fellowship. 4

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH Elected the Whig member for Peterborough in 1728, he followed his father’s footsteps into the House of Commons, but with little appetite for politics and investing little or no effort defending his seat, lost it in 1734. He fulfilled the expected roles of a country squire, continued with agricultural improvements on the estate, and completed his father’s good works. The almshouse on Revesby Green for poor farmers was finished in 1729 at a cost of £350, the rebuilding of Revesby church a year later at a cost of £700, and a foundling hospital was established in London. He also climbed another rung on the social ladder, being appointed high sheriff of Lincolnshire in 1735. Indicative of Joseph II’s parochial world view was the education and future he planned for his sons. Education seems to have been a low priority, for reading family letters of this time is to enter a world of badly penned, misspelt and often near-illiterate correspondence. The eldest son, Joseph III was tutored at home followed by a final stint in Geneva (which, rather than completing his education in Britain, was unusual), before time spent as a volunteer in the Royal Navy fleet in the Mediterranean. This young man’s handsome looks were blighted by a disfiguring attack of smallpox aged twenty, and five years later his life was cut short by an unnamed fever. He died at Revesby on 12 May 1740. At Joseph III’s death his eldest sister, the twenty-five-year-old Letitia Mary, took over running the Revesby estate for a few years, before dying a forty-one-year-old-spinster on 10 September 1757. It would be four years before his twenty-year-old middle sister, Elizabeth, wed (perhaps eloped with) Dr James Hawley, eleven years her senior, on 8 November 1744. She bore one son – the first in a long line of Hawley baronets – in 1745, and died aged forty-six on 27 November 1766. The youngest sister, Eleanora Margaret, seventeen at the time of her elder brother’s death, was considered one of the great beauties of her age. ‘Peggy Banks’ of Horace Walpole’s letters contrived to remain unwed for a further seventeen years until October 1757, when a month after her sister’s funeral she married Henry Grenville at Revesby. Henry was the youngest brother of Richard GrenvilleTemple (from 1752 the second Earl Temple), and Peggy’s union did much to boost the Banks’s social stock. She lived to the ripe old age of seventy, eventually passing away on 19 June 1793 having derived much pleasure and familial pride as 5

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS she witnessed the metamorphosis of her favourite nephew from indolent schoolboy to youthful and enthusiastic adventurer-naturalist and latterly respected and scholarly savant. Peggy’s daughter Louise Grenville (1758–1829) was also to have a close association with her first cousin, ‘our’ Joseph, and was a significant point of contact for him into an important circle of political and societal figures of power and influence. Through her father she was also first cousin to William Pitt the Younger (1759–1806) and William Wyndham Grenville (1759–1834). Both men were to become prime ministers with whom Joseph IV was to have significant dealings. At the time of his death in 1740, Joseph III’s youngest brother, the eighteenyear-old Robert (1722–92) was in Bristol pursuing a very ungentlemanly path. Indentured on 8 April 1739 as an apprentice to William Jefferis of the Society of Merchant Venturers, he was learning a trade. Upon the death of his eldest brother he returned to Revesby where he spent most of the remainder of the year with his siblings arranging family affairs. Robert was matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford on 8 June 1741 but never studied at the university. Returning to Bristol he picked up his merchant venturing until his coming of age in 1743 when, by the conveyance from his elder brother William (the aforemnentioned father of ‘our’ Joseph) he became Robert Banks-Hodgkinson of Overton Hall. Elected as member of Parliament for Wareham in 1751, Robert remained the bachelor squire until 1 October 1757 when he wed Bridget (d. 1792), the eldest daughter of Thomas Williams of Edwinsford, Carmarthenshire. Upon their marriage the estate was settled on Bridget and when her father died a few years later, Robert took over its management. In 1761 Robert was to become guardian to his seventeen-year-old nephew Joseph IV, an event that marked the beginning of a close, deep and mutually respecting friendship that endured and matured until Robert’s death thirty years later. As the second son, Joseph III’s younger brother William had succeeded to the Overton estate upon the death of his maternal grandfather in 1732, and meeting a stipulation of her will he took the surname Hodgkinson-Bank. But on the death of his elder sibling the twenty-one-year-old William became the Banks heir. He had been privately tutored at Revesby, schooled at Queen Elizabeth Grammar 6

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH School in nearby Horncastle and aged a youthful seventeen was matriculated at Christ Church on 24 April 1736, although there is no evidence that he studied at the University. Later that year and following in his grandfather’s legal footsteps he was entered at the Middle Temple, London in order to pursue a career as a barrister. In what was becoming a family tradition, William was elected a Whig member of Parliament, in his case for the notoriously rotten borough of Grampound, Cornwall, in 1741 (he had not been returned but the victor was subsequently unseated on a petition) and sat until 1747. The year of his election saw the death of his father and coming into his inheritance William renounced the surname Banks-Hodgkinson and returned to plain Banks. However, prior to this William had spent quite a lot of time in Derbyshire, where immersed in county society he had quite naturally found himself a bride. Joseph IV’s mother, Sarah (née Bate) was a wealthy heiress from the county with strong connections to London – her paternal grandfather was a merchant of the city, and her mother was the only child and heiress of the merchant Thomas Chambers. Moreover she was connected with the nobility: her maternal aunt, Hannah Sophia Chambers, was married to Brownlow Cecil, eighth earl of Exeter. 

Back to November 1744, and Joseph, Sarah Sophia and their parents journeying north from London via the Wash in time to celebrate their first family Christmas at the manor of Revesby Abbey. William had spent his childhood here and the estate would occupy much of his energies for the rest of his life; in anticipation of his return on this occasion he had had the house redecorated and refurnished (a Thomas Dobyns was paid £742 8s 8d for furniture and fittings in 1743 and ’44), no doubt for comfort and fashion’s sake, and perhaps too in order to display his new status. In another line of public acknowledgements that the Banks family was receiving the proper introductions, making the right connections and slowly but surely making its way further into the upper echelons of county society, William had been appointed deputy lieutenant of Lincolnshire in 1743. As William settled into his revamped home and the rural life of a country squire, he 7

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS demonstrated the same family diligence and determination as his forefathers in continuing to improve the estate. There is evidence to suggest too that his knowledge of agricultural matters gained him respect, and that his advice was sought. Certainly the ‘Open Letter’ addressed to him and published in 1749 on the subject of distemper among horned cattle implies that he was held in regard by the farming community. William also displayed an enthusiasm for landscaping the grounds in the prevailing naturalistic fashion. In 1749 the Long Pond was dug and the Mound raised from the spoils, groves of elm trees planted and a menagerie built. A decade later he received plans for ‘a small glass case to strike young orange trees in’, a greenhouse 12.5 feet in length and 7.5 wide heated by tanner’s bark (wetted oak bark chips which produce heat through fermentation). Yet these improvements were overseen from a wheelchair, for in 1745 William suffered an unknown fever which left him deprived of the use of his lower limbs – an illness that likely contributed to his premature death aged just forty-two. With his genuine passion for the natural world, albeit seen through an agricultural lens, William no doubt played a formative role in fostering and encouraging in young Joseph a love of the outdoors. Certainly agriculture and botany were to become two favourite fields of endeavour in his busy and engaged adult life, and it is likely that his mother sowed the seeds of his love of plants. Sadly, little is recorded of Sarah’s life and interests, but from the small amount of evidence there is she appears to have been an intelligent and independent-minded woman of good sense. A glimpse of this is gleaned from a letter written in 1808 by her son to the Rev. Samuel Hopkinson of Moreton, Lincolnshire, and posthumously published in The Gentleman’s Magazine (1823). Replying to a question about the venomosity of the common toad Banks stated, I have, from my childhood, in conformity to the precepts of a mother, void of all imaginary fear, been in constant habits of taking Toads in my hand, holding them there some time, and applying them to my face or nose, as it may happen. My motive for doing this very frequently, is to inculcate the opinion I have held since l was taught by my mother, that the Toad is actually a harmless animal.4 8

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH Not only was Banks a strong advocate of the toad, but the quote also reveals a life-long happy memory of a practical, formative and down-to-earth mother whom it would appear was a keen gardener. Certainly she possessed a copy of Gerard’s Herball (Plate 4), and as a widow moved to the village of Chelsea at least in part because of its gardens and proximity to the Chelsea Physic Garden. And unlike William, Sarah was fortunate enough to bear witness the large part of her son’s illustrious career. She would die at the grand age of eighty-five in 1804. CHILDHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION

So it was that Joseph passed his early years immersed within the bucolic charm of 340 acres of deer park and gardens (an expanse just a little smaller than Hyde Park in London), and, beyond, extensive tracts of woodlands and fens. This must have been a magical, adventure-filled playground for a small boy to call his own, to explore and enjoy. Yet unlike the preceding generations, William fully grasped that in order for his son to become a gentleman he must first be educated as one. Joseph’s early learning was conducted at home by a tutor, the same Rev. Henry Shepherd, rector of Moorby, who had instructed his father. Perhaps it was the allure of all the nature just outside the window just waiting to be investigated and enjoyed at his own pace and on his own terms (by his own admission the young Joseph loved fishing) that gave rise to Joseph’s irreverent and indolent approach to his early education. Whatever the cause, his father recognised it and in April 1752 during a brief remission from his paralysis decided that the nineyear-old needed formal preparatory schooling. To whit, he was packed off to be a boarder at the Free Grammar School of John Lyon at Harrow, where he was not too distant from his uncle Robert Banks-Hodgkinson and his maternal aunt Arabella at London and Chelsea respectively. Harrow by this time had moved on from its founding purpose of providing free education to local scholars and under the headmastership of Dr Thackeray, Joseph now mixed with ‘foreigners’, or non-local, fee-paying pupils who included a Scottish duke, an English peer and a baronet, an Anglo-Irish earl as well as free scholars such as Samuel Parr, later to become the ‘Whig Johnson’. In spite of being immersed in a more structured schooling environment Joseph 9

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS continued to be a poor pupil. It was not that he was intellectually challenged, rather that he had a short attention span and lacked the necessary patience and diligence to study those topics that simply did not interest him. And the classical curriculum of the time completely failed to engage him. His Latin was poor, his Greek worse and reading his hand in letters and journals of later life it appears he only learned the rudiments of English punctuation and spelling. Neither the school dames – village women who looked after the younger boys and taught them reading and scripture – nor the masters were able to motivate the exceedingly active boy to focus on his studies. Consequently, after four years of under-achieving his no doubt frustrated father decided upon a new tack. On 11 September 1756, the now thirteen-year-old Joseph was transferred to the Lower School of Eton, the school founded by King Henry VI in 1440 as the ‘King’s College of Our Lady of Eton beside Windsor’ (Plate 3). At this time it was under the headmastership of that ‘Pitt of masters’, Dr Edward Barnard, a strict disciplinarian who oversaw a thriving period in the school’s history. However, the Etonian curriculum was also narrow and firmly rooted in the classics, and if the subject matter was not to Joseph’s taste, a further disinclination to learn must have been the educational practices, by which Homer, Virgil, elegiac distichs and Greek hexameters were taught, by too few masters in too large classes – in fact many pupils brought their own tutor with them. Joseph did not, but as an ‘oppidan’ – a pupil who paid fees and lived outside the college’s original buildings – it may have been that he lived in a house run by the ‘domine’ Edward Young. It was this assistant master who drummed into Joseph what little classical education he managed to retain, and who enlisted his father’s help in his efforts. A mere term after Joseph’s enrolment Young sent William Banks a concerned yet revealing letter dated 6 February 1757. He drew attention to his son’s continued shortcomings, noting that they both must be aware of ‘a great Inattention in Him, and an immediate Love of Play’. He identified those detriments that must be overcome lest they be a ‘constant Obstacle to His Improvement’ and emphasised that the lad must develop ‘an Habit of Attention and Diligence’ before encountering the sterner regime of the Upper School. Yet for all his academic shortcomings Young found Joseph a ‘very good-tempered and well disposed Boy’.5 10

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH Thankfully for Joseph’s sake, Eton had yet to gain the dire reputation for brutality and sexual immorality for which it was justly infamous in the nineteenth century. Nevertheless life at Eton at this time was spartan: the accommodation squalid, complaints about the food (pupils had to pay for their own which was inadequate and consisted mostly of mutton and beer) legion, and bullying rife. William Pitt, first Lord Chatham (1708–78), who was a pupil from about 1720 to 1726, recalled that ‘he had scarce observed a boy who was not cowed for life at Eton; that a public school might suit a boy of turbulent, forward disposition, but it would not do where there was any gentleness’.6 A poor, inattentive scholar Joseph certainly was, but in an environment where cruelty and brutishness was dished out by some of the boys, he was neither cowed nor broken. To the contrary, by now he was used to living away from home and, affable and amiable, he made friends easily. Of the relatively few sons of gentlemen and aristocrats in attendance, one in particular, the Hon. Constantine John Phipps (later the second Lord Mulgrave, 1744–92) became a life-long friend. Of the more numerous sons of wealthy bourgeoisie, William Perrin (1742–1820) and Henry Brougham (1742–1810) both became good friends. It may have been with Perrin that Banks illegally shot a swan and ate it in a pie – an act he obliquely referred to in a letter to Perrin sent some years later from Rio de Janeiro.7 And according to Lord Brougham, son of Henry: ‘My father described him [Joseph] as a remarkably fine-looking, strong and active boy, whom no fatigue could subdue, and no peril daunt.’8 Physically big, strong for his age because of his outdoor lifestyle, and, if Brougham is to be believed, brave, it is unlikely that Joseph was bullied, but nor was he a bully. Independent-minded, he displayed the beginnings of a life-long and happy knack of getting on with people by just being his cheerful, kind and approachable self. This sense is borne out by the first known portrait of Joseph, attributed either to Lemuel Francis Abbott or John (Johann) Zoffany (1733–1810) and painted somewhere around 1757 when Joseph was fourteen years old. The work remains in private hands but O’Brian provides a description (and Plate 1, attributed to John Opie, is a derivative of it). The painting is big – some 7 by 4.5 feet – and the background a typically classical-influenced scene of the age. The globe in the 11

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS bottom right foreground occupies a dominant and almost prophetic position – a similar object was to appear, albeit in a less conspicuous position, in Sir Joshua Reynold’s famous portrait painted between 1771 and ’73 (Plate 19). The welldressed subject (fawn-coloured breeches and waistcoat, frilled and ruffled shirt and green coat with gilt buttons) is slim, his long auburn hair falling over his shoulders. However, as well as depicting an athletic lad, the artist managed to capture in Joseph’s expression aspects of his character: he looks calm and thoughtful, good-natured and self-determined9. Whether or not Young’s called-for paternal reprimand was forthcoming, from the summer of 1757 and according to his own testament given later in life Joseph became a dedicated student. His energies were not however directed towards becoming a classics scholar. It was to botany he wished to apply his not inconsiderable intellectual capabilities. The oft-quoted botanical epiphany is part of the Hunterian Oration delivered on 14 February 1822 to the College of Surgeons by Joseph’s friend, the surgeon Sir Everard Home (1756–1832). The passage, which recounts a conversation between the two men in 1819 is worthy of quoting in full: When fourteen, his tutor had, for the first time, the satisfaction of finding him reading during his hours of leisure. This sudden turn, which his mind had taken, Sir Joseph explained to me in the following manner; one fine summer evening he had bathed in the river as usual with other boys, but having staid a long time in the water he found when he came to dress himself, that all his companions were gone; he was walking leisurely along a lane, the sides of which were richly enamelled with flowers; he stopped and looked round, involuntarily exclaimed, How beautiful! After some reflection, he said to himself, it is surely more natural that I should be taught to know all these productions of Nature, in preference to Greek and Latin; but the latter is my father’s command and it is my duty to obey him. I will however make myself acquainted with all these different plants for my own pleasure and gratification. He began immediately to teach himself Botany; and, for want of more able tutors, submitted to be instructed by the women, employed in 12

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH culling simples, as it is termed, to supply the Druggists and Apothecaries shops, paying sixpence for every material piece of information. While at home for the ensuing holidays he found, to his inexpressible delight, in his mother’s dressing room, a book in which all the plants he had met with were not only described but represented by engravings. This, which proved to be Gerard’s Herbal, although one of the boards was lost and several of the leaves torn out, he carried with him to school in triumph; and it was probably this very book that he was poring over when detected by his tutor, for the first time, in the act of reading. He now exulted over his former preceptors, being not only independent of them, but in his turn, whenever they met with a new plant, told them its name and the qualities ascribed to it.10

While there can be no doubt that Joseph had discovered his passion for plants, the biographer Patrick O’Brian perceptively noted that he did not ‘believe in the literal truth of Banks’s reflection’ and that the exulting tone was characteristic not of Banks (it is certainly absent from his writings) but Home, a man ‘who left no pleasant reputation behind him’.11 Certainly though Joseph poured his abundant energies into fieldwork in pursuit of his new-found interest. Lord Brougham recalled his father’s personal experiences of Joseph’s new interests: his whole time out of school was given up to hunting after plants and insects, making a hortus siccus [a collection of dried botanical specimens] of the one, and forming a cabinet of the other. As often as Banks could induce him to quit his task in reading or in verse-making, he would take him on his long rambles; and I suppose it was from this early taste that we had at Brougham so many butterflies, beetles, and other insects, as well as a cabinet of shells and fossils.12

Botany was to remain Joseph’s chief delight for the rest of his long life, but his intellectual horizons now expanded to include all aspects of natural history and philosophy. His remaining time at Eton was a mix of the enjoyment derived from educating himself in the natural sciences and enduring Greek and Latin 13

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS lessons; but displaying an instinctive talent for understanding and playing the system, a skill he would hone in adult life, he did sufficient not to cause his tutors further concern. In early 1760 the seventeen-year-old Joseph returned to Revesby to undergo smallpox inoculation. The procedure was successful only on the second attempt, and it was decided that with little to be gained by his returning to Eton, Joseph should instead begin his university education. AT OXFORD UNIVERSITY

Following in the footsteps of both his father and his uncle Robert, Banks was matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford on 16 December 1760. Unlike them however, this gentleman-commoner studied, taking up residence on Christmas Eve that year. His subject was of course, botany. But it appears that he did not ‘live in’ until 1762, when he took rooms six and eight on staircase eight in Peckwater Quadrangle (Plate 5). In later life Banks would recall that he ‘stood low’ in the eyes of ‘true Oxonians’ who ‘when he entered any of the rooms where discussions on classical points were going briskly on, they would say, “Here is Banks, but he knows nothing of Greek.” He made no reply, but he would say to himself, “I shall very soon beat you all in a kind of knowledge I think infinitely more important;” and it happened that, soon after he first heard these jokes, as often as the classical men were puzzled on a point of natural history, they said, “We must go to Banks.” ’13 Banks certainly made good use of his time as an undergraduate, and in contrast to his schooling exhibited a thirst for knowledge and determination to learn. However, before the end of his first year his father died, and upon receiving the news Banks put his studies on hold in order to arrange family matters at Revesby. How he felt upon hearing of his father’s premature death is not recorded, but there is nothing in his correspondence to suggest that father and son were particularly close. When the eighteen-year-old Banks returned to Oxford, the widowed Sarah moved to Chelsea to be near her sister, renting the elegant Turret House, a Queen Anne building at 22 Paradise Row. With his inheritance under the guardianship of his uncle Robert and his mother, Banks received an allowance of £400 a year for the rest of his minority (in comparison, a skilled tradesman would have earned about £36.5 per annum). 14

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH A sizeable portion of it he spent on travelling expenses: vacations and some of the term-time were passed visiting the family estates in Derbyshire, Lincolnshire, Staffordshire, and that of his uncle at Edwinsford. These peregrinations had a purpose: under the watchful eye and careful guidance of Robert, John Gilbert (estate manager for the third duke of Bridgewater, and between 1767 and ’91 for Banks at Cheadle and Kingsley) and Benjamin Stephenson (steward of the Banks Lincolnshire estates) the soon-to-be landowner was given a parallel, practical education in agriculture and estate management. While up at Oxford Banks began his life-long proclivity for joining societies and establishing clubs. On 12 October 1761 he was elected to his first, when he became a Fellow of the London-based Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce. And given areas of their activity it would seem likely – although no evidence survives to prove it – that in the summer of 1762 Banks was pivotal in the founding of three new university clubs: the Botanical Club, the Fossil Club and the Antiquarian’s Club. This gregarious aspect of Banks’s nature is also evident in the enduring friendships he struck up in Oxford, for example with Samuel Goodenough, William Perrin and in particular, with fellow natural historian, and physician, John Parsons (1742–85). After further medical studies in London and Edinburgh (where he was awarded a prize medal by Dr Hope for the best hortus siccus), Parsons returned to Christ Church in 1767 to take up the first university lectureship in anatomy and the newly established post of Lee’s reader. College records reveal that Banks’s last extended period of residence was twenty-one weeks in 1764. During his time as a student the sciences (excepting astronomy and mathematics) were held in low regard, and botany suffered its own particular malaise in the torpid hands of the second Sheridan professor, Dr Humphry Sibthorp (1713–97). Appointed to the chair in 1747, Sibthorp became infamous for teaching only one course during his entire thirty-seven-year tenure. To his credit, however, he did purchase the collections of his predecessor, Johann Jakob Dillenius, for the Sheridan Museum and commenced the Catalogus Plantarum Horti Botanici Oxoniensis (the catalogue of the plants of the university botanic garden). Therefore in July 1764 Banks took matters into his own hands 15

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS and, having obtained a letter of introduction from Sibthorp, sought the advice of John Martyn, the professor of botany at ‘the other place’, Cambridge. That Sibthorp raised no objection nor showed embarrassment at the implicit criticism of his lack of lectures reveals either that Banks handled the negotiations with diplomacy, that the professor did not care, or both. From Cambridge Banks recruited a private tutor, Israel Lyons (1739–75). Lyons was of humble Jewish origins which precluded him from becoming a member of Cambridge University, but he was a brilliant mathematician, an enthusiastic botanist and a popular lecturer. With his fees shared by those students who formed his class, ‘At least sixty pupils’ turned up to hear his lectures, greeting them with ‘great applause’.14 Likely after Lyons completed his lecture series Banks went down without graduating, quite a common practice among members of his class at the time. He kept his college rooms for a few years, but thus ended his formal education. ‘POST-GRADUATE’ STUDIES

An account signed on 19 April 1764 from Messrs Snow and Denne, bankers on the Strand, London, reveals that when Banks reached his majority his personal fortune stood at £15,185;15 and that the 9,000–10,000 acres of landholdings in Lincolnshire alone yielded an annual income of £5,000 to £6,000 a year. This placed him among 300 or 400 of the country’s wealthiest men.16 At that time a farm labourer might earn £25 a year; the esteemed Philip Miller (1691–1771), head gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden received £50; and Lieutenant James Cook, when he took command of HMS Endeavour in 1768, received the unusually large sum of 5 shillings a day (£91 5s a year). For £200 a year one could live in a country house with two menservants and two maids and keep a carriage and three horses.17 Banks’s income was therefore more than sufficient to enjoy a very comfortable life indeed. The immediate future for a young gentleman of Banks’s wealth, background and contacts could have been quite predictable. Now would be the time to indulge in a year or two of travel, to take a Grand Tour to Rome in the company of some like-minded, socially equitable and similarly rich chums. Upon his return, he ought to purchase a town house and pass the Season in London (a handsome and eligible bachelor, he would not have been without 16

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH invitations) with the remainder of the year at Revesby Abbey, there perhaps to further improve the farmland, to lay out the grounds in the latest landscape style, ornamented with antiquarian trophies brought back from his Grand Tour. For intellectual stimulus he might have had himself elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, and developed his scholarly passions as a gentleman scientist and antiquarian. Certainly this was a path followed by many of Banks’s contemporaries, for example Richard Payne Knight (1750–1824) of Downton Castle, Herefordshire, with whose brother, Thomas Andrew Knight, Banks would have much horticultural correspondence later in life (see below, p. 307). But Banks was an individualist and his immediate future would be unorthodox, unfashionable and personally motivated. From the late summer of 1764 until April 1766, interspersed with necessary visits to Revesby, and in the summer of 1765 a botanising trip over the Weald of Kent with William Perrin and six weeks in Oxford likely botanising with John Parsons, Banks passed eighteen stimulating months in London educating himself in natural history and the natural sciences, soaking up knowledge and judiciously developing a network of helpful and influential like-minded friends and colleagues. His lodgings in Ormond Street gave easy access to the city’s social life of clubs and taverns, but more importantly it was close to the Reading Room of the British Museum (then housed in Montagu House, Westminster). Banks was granted his first reader’s ticket on 3 August 1764 and here he spent many daylight hours amidst the somewhat primitive conditions of the library. The museum had been established by Sir Hans Sloane (1660–1753), who bequeathed his large collection of curiosities, some 71,000 objects including a large number of natural history specimens, to King George II for the nation. In 1753 the king gave royal assent to the Act of Parliament establishing the museum, and although the Reading Room at this time had a literary rather than a scientific focus Banks made a number of new acquaintances with whom he shared common interests. There was Thomas Pennant (1726–98), Banks’s senior by seventeen years, a Welsh naturalist, traveller, writer and antiquarian who was born and lived his whole life at his family estate, Downing Hall near Whitford, Flintshire. Pennant was both a correspondent of the great botanist Carl Linnaeus (1701–78), 17

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS professor of medicine and botany at Uppsala University, and a friend of the pioneering parson-naturalist Gilbert White (1720–93). Although no doubt a helpful ally to Banks at this juncture and a long-term correspondent, Pennant would later become a thorn in Banks’s side with his peremptory pestering, begging and demanding for loans of specimens and drawings, and access to Banks’s library and collections. Other new acquaintances included the poet Thomas Gray (1717–71), the jurist William Blackstone (1723–80), the philosopher-historian David Hume (1711–76), the botanist John Lightfoot (1735–88), and Philip Stephens, first secretary of the Admiralty (1723–1809). THE SWEDISH NATURALIST, DANIEL SOLANDER

But the most significant new acquaintance was the Swede, Dr Daniel Solander (1733–82). An outstanding natural scientist and former pupil of Linnaeus, Solander was also an entertaining gossip, and according to the physician and scientist (later Sir) Charles Blagden (1748–1820), later secretary of the Royal Society and close friend of Banks, ‘the mildest, gentlest and most obliging of men’.18 The antithesis of Oxford’s Professor Sibthorp, the engaged Linnaeus was possessed of an infectious enthusiasm with which he readily inspired his students, many of whom as ‘disciples’ contributed greatly to the subject of botany, not least among them Jonas Alströmer (1685–1761), Pehr Kalm (1716–79), Magnus von Lagerström (1696–1759) and Carl Peter Thunberg (1743–1828). Solander was one of Linnaeus’s favourite pupils, later a close friend whom Linnaeus hoped would both wed one of his daughters and succeed him to his chair. But when asked by two correspondents, John Ellis (c. 1710– 76) and Peter Collinson (1694–1768), to send a student to England, Solander was Linnaeus’s natural choice. Ellis and Collinson were both Fellows of the Royal Society and keen botanist-gardeners. The former, a linen merchant with interests in the West Indies, had published An Essay towards the Natural History of the Corallines in 1755; the latter, a wealthy Quaker merchant with interests and contacts in the American colonies, including the plant hunter and father of American botany John Bartram (1699–1777), was responsible for introducing many North American plant taxa into England, and specifically wanted a Linnaean student to catalogue his extensive plant collection along the new binominal system. 18

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH Illness and the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) contrived to delay Solander’s arrival until 1760, when he was warmly received by his sponsors who quickly introduced him to the cream of British natural philosophers and botanists. This coterie was assiduous in securing Solander a position at the British Museum. Collinson may have gone as far as to approach another avid botanist, John Stuart, third earl of Bute (1713–92), then prime minister and a royal favourite, to ask him to speak with the newly crowned King George III on Solander’s behalf. Whatever the actualities, a position was forthcoming in February 1763. Paid a mere £60 a year (the museum had an annual budget of £900), the twenty-nine-year-old Solander became an assistant in the Department of Natural and Artificial Productions, where he happily spent his hours cataloguing the natural history collections. There is however circumstantial evidence that Solander may have also operated as an intelligence agent for the Swedish government, perhaps collecting industrial and military intelligence during two tours of southern England during which he took an especial interest in glass-making in Bristol, metal-working in Woodstock and naval movements in Portsmouth. There is more definite evidence of his involvement with Swedish industrialist and merchant Clas Alströmer (brother of Johan) in illegal attempts to recruit skilled British artisans to Swedish industry. Solander came to the notice of British authorities and was placed under surveillance, his mail intercepted. Thus it is known that Solander wrote at least four letters in 1765 to the English manufacturer Matthew Boulton (1728–1809) in an attempt to lure him to Sweden. How different the Industrial Revolution might have been had Boulton taken up the offer rather than enter into a business partnership with James Watt. At some point late in the summer or autumn of 1764, the sociable and amiable Banks, a new initiate into the clique of natural historians, met the sociable and amiable Swede, likely at the British Museum, or perhaps introduced by Philip Miller, one of Solander’s early acquaintances and since 1722 head gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden, the position to which he had been appointed by the garden’s founder Sir Hans Sloane. Sometime after Solander’s death in 1782 Banks, who was much moved by the loss of his longstanding and good friend, was asked by Johan Alströmer, president 19

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of the Swedish Royal Scientific Society, to write a description of Solander’s life in England. Banks’s reply of 16 November 1784 is the only contemporary account of Solander’s work19. It was edited, translated into Swedish and published in Upfostrings-Sälskapets Tidningar of 21 February 1785. In September that year this article was translated into German and published in Berlinische Monatsschrift. Banks’s original letter in English was never published and is now lost, so to what extent the translations were Banks’s true words is a moot point. Of their first meeting Banks recalled just that in ‘the year 1764, when I was studying at Oxford, I first became acquainted with Solander. From then on, our acquaintanceship grew until it developed into a friendship.’ During these months, and sharing many common interests and time together, one can envisage a situation in which the knowledgeable and gossipy Solander acted as mentor to and educator of the enquiring Banks: pushing his capacity to learn, instructing him on critical thinking, teaching him the techniques of investigative study and the skills of scientific recording, Latin description, and, based on his own experience, the important skills of organising and running a field trip; guiding him in developing an understanding of those fields of natural history in which Banks now became grounded – entomology and invertebrate zoology, biology, geology and mineralogy, what would become called palaeontology, marine biology (including shells, fish and seaweed) and ornithology. All this in addition to Banks’s keen antiquarian interests in archaeology, anthropology and ethnography; and, as a landowner, agriculture, fishing, mining and engineering too. THE CHELSEA CONNECTION

Certainly too Banks spent time with his mother in Chelsea and during one stay a perhaps apocryphal event took place that only made it into the press a few years later, after Banks had become something of a celebrity and the subject of gossip. Incorrectly declaring the event had happened ‘lately’, the General Evening Post of 7 January 1772 ran a piece describing Banks, botanising on Hounslow Heath, being arrested by a gentleman pursuing a highwayman who had just robbed him. The gentleman discovered the unfortunate botanist crawling about in a ditch after a specimen with the bridle of his horse in hand, and after a struggle, and in 20

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH spite of Banks’s protestations of innocence, conveyed him to the Bow Street magistrates where he was charged. A turning-out of pockets convinced the justice that the young man was no criminal but rather an eccentric, and Banks was set free with apologies all round. The event was rehashed in the Town and Country Magazine of September 1773 in a piece that sensationally added that on one occasion Banks was ‘so eager in the pursuit of a butterfly of a peculiar species, as to fall into a river, and narrowly escape being drowned’. Sixteen years later the story was turned into verse by Peter Pindar (pseudonym of the satirist John Wolcot) in his poem ‘Sir J. Banks and the Thieftakers’.20 Chelsea in the mid-eighteenth century was not the affluent west London suburb it is today, but a small riverside village separate from the City of London. Even then, though, it had an upmarket reputation. Once described as ‘a village of palaces’ – Henry VIII had built a manor here and his one-time lord high chancellor, Thomas More, had been a resident – it was a popular location for the wealthy and known for the estates of writers and intellectuals, its hospital and waterworks, its market gardens and famous Physic Garden. Here was to be found Philip Miller, who although he eschewed the new Linnaean binominal system of classification, was a fount of theoretical and practical botanical and horticultural knowledge from which Banks no doubt drank deep. Others in Chelsea provided additional encouragement with his studies. A short way upriver and occupying Lindsey House (in 1674 the third earl of Lindsey had built a fashionable villa on the site of More’s gardens) were the Moravian Brethren, a religious community originating in Bohemia. Some of the brothers were keen amateur botanists and gave Banks dried plant specimens from Labrador (they survive to this day in his herbarium, now included within the General Herbarium at the Natural History Museum, London). Here too, Banks became friends with John Montagu, fourth earl of Sandwich (1718–92), twenty-four years his senior, a fenland neighbour and now neighbour to his mother. The two men shared an interest in horticulture and fishing, and both shared a prankster’s sense of humour: ‘So zealous were both these friends in the prosecution of this sport, that Sir Joseph used to tell of a project they had formed for suddenly draining the Serpentine by letting off the water; and he was wont to lament their 21

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS scheme being discovered the night before it was to have been executed: their hope was to have thrown much light on the state and habits of the fish.’21 Not wealthy by the aristocratic standards of the day, Lord Sandwich was however astute, intelligent and good natured. A diligent and approachable holder of office – he was first lord of the Admiralty on three occasions, and in 1764 was secretary of state for the Northern Department – he was also a shrewd and ambitious political operator – attributes that inevitably brought him criticism and enemies. In the 1760s Sandwich developed a strong and platonic friendship with Lady Mary Fitzgerald (c. 1726–1815), sister of another friend, Augustus John Hervey, third earl of Bristol (1724–79) and uncle to Banks’s school friend, Constantine Phipps. Somewhat formal in his demeanour, Sandwich was intelligent, hard-working and possessed of good professional judgement. He also gained a somewhat exaggerated reputation as a libertine, which he was not to shake off. In the 1750s, out of power and with his wife’s mental health deteriorating, his papers reveal that he maintained various mistresses, both amateur and professional; and between 1763 and 1770 he was likely a member of the Hellfire Club founded by Sir Francis Dashwood (1708–81, Baron le Despencer from 1762). Given his female predilections, Sandwich may have mentored Banks in trawling for other of London’s ‘delights’ – certainly in later years they shared such sport. In a letter to the publisher and politician William Strahan of 10 May 1776, the philosopher David (as Constantine Phipps had become in 1775) recounts having met Banks with their lords Denbigh, Mulgrave and Sandwich, together with ‘two or three Ladies of Pleasure’ at an inn at Spine Hill near Newbury, Berkshire where the party was staying to enjoy three weeks of fishing.22 Up until this point we have observed an inattentive schoolboy uninterested in a classical education have his enthusiasm fired by botany and natural history. The neglectful pupil becomes a curious and attentive undergraduate who uses his determination and personal finance to further his learning. The very wealthy young man applies his not unsubstantial intellect to independently advance his education in London, and through the graces and sponsorship of scholarly and learned friends be elected Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London on 22

THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH 27 February 1766. But to what end? Banks had yet to give any indication of what his future plans might entail, had no scheme, plan or purpose to which to apply his newly gleaned knowledge. Beyond demonstrating a natural enthusiasm and clear intelligence, enterprise and capacity to learn, Banks had achieved nothing in the world of antiquarianism or natural history. Perhaps the Grand Tour scenario described above (pp. 16–17) was in the back of his mind, and the time spent in London was a delaying tactic, putting off the inevitable. Perhaps too he was enjoying the good life as a handsome and wealthy young ‘man about town’. But all this was about to change: an auspicious alignment of fortunate circumstances and personal initiative would shortly set the course of Banks’s future life and career. In a rare surviving letter of this period, Professor John Hope of the Botanical Department, Edinburgh University wrote to Banks on 17 April: ‘it being rumoured that you are going to the country of the Eskimaux [sic] Indians.’23 How Hope heard the rumour of Banks’s proposed adventure is unknown, but on the day he put pen to paper Banks was already in the West Country waiting for the weather to improve, waiting for a signal to join the Royal Navy vessel that was to transport him on his first voyage of discovery.

23

TWO 

Newfoundland and Labrador 1766

SEIZING THE OPPORTUNITY

Throughout his life Banks displayed a talent for recognising an advantageous opportunity, grasping the initiative and melding the outcome to his – and most often, too, to natural history and the country’s – advantage. The first notable opportunity also proved to be pivotal in shaping the direction of the rest of his life’s work. On 10 February 1763 the Treaty of Paris was signed by the prime minister, Lord Bute, formally ending the Seven Years’ War in Britain’s favour. And although Bute received much criticism for perceived lenient treatment of Spain and Portugal (agreeing to protect Roman Catholicism in the New World), the treaty marked the beginning of an era of British dominance and colonial expansion outside Europe. France was forced to cede its Canadian provinces to Britain, but retained some fishing rights on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. There, not surprisingly, trouble regularly broke out between the British, French, Spanish and Portuguese fishing fleets; conflicts that were kept in check by a British naval presence. So it was that HMS Niger came to be sent as a vessel of the Fishery Protection Squadron to Newfoundland and Labrador, taking a party of Marines to build and man a new fort at Chateau Bay, Labrador. Exactly when and how Banks first came to hear of the voyage is unknown, but one can surmise that it was some time in late 1765 or early 1766, and that the information came from his friend Lord Sandwich, then first lord of the Admiralty, or from his school friend Constantine Phipps. The latter had left Eton in the 24

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR winter of 1758–59 to serve in the Royal Navy as a fourteen-year-old midshipman under his uncle Augustus John Hervey. By all accounts Phipps was an accomplished mariner, seeing active service, and was promoted lieutenant. However, with Britain now at peace he had no ship and was ashore on half-pay; not that a drop in salary mattered much – he was heir to great estates in Yorkshire, and had recently netted £2,000 in naval prize money. It was most likely that Sandwich secured leave for Banks (accompanied by his faithful servant Peter Briscoe) and the unemployed Phipps to join the Niger. Both men were listed on the ship’s manifest as supernumeraries; that is to say that neither had an official position or capacity aboard. At first glance one could be forgiven for viewing the voyage as nothing more than two wealthy young friends sharing an adventure. But Banks had a very different vision, and the expedition was his first ‘career move’: during its course the bookish Banks would metamorphose into the energetic man of science. It was also the first big test of his abilities: he would put all his theoretical knowledge into practice, and conduct scientific research in the field, without the network of academics he could rely on for help in London. In making his preparations Banks likely sought the advice and assistance of Peter Ellis, who had explored the West Indies, and Solander, who had undertaken two plant hunting expeditions in Lapland. Using his own finances he equipped himself thoroughly with drying and mounting paper and presses for preparing herbarium specimens; guns for shooting birds; fishing lines, nets and trawls for capturing marine specimens; butterfly nets and pinboards for insects; a keg of spirits for preserving zoological specimens to be painted upon his return; and a small reference library. Banks’s herbarium sheets have survived, but one skill he had not mastered was preserving zoological specimens. Thus, in addition to his zoological manuscripts (the McGill Manuscript), the paintings subsequently made by Sydney Parkinson (1745–71) are the only surviving visual reference and lasting legacy of the fish, birds and insects he collected in the course of his first voyage. Introduced to Banks by the famous nurseryman James Lee (1715–95), Parkinson was born in Edinburgh, the younger son of a Quaker brewer. Although apprenticed to a wool-draper, his artistic talent was recognised and he moved to 25

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS London where his studies of flowers and fruits became popular. Parkinson will return to our story in the next chapter. THE FIRST VOYAGE JOURNAL

Banks kept a journal covering 7 April 1766 (when he met Phipps en route to Plymouth) until 17 November (when the Niger arrived in Lisbon) – with gaps due to seasickness and fever. It – and, for that matter, each of his eight journals – remained unpublished in Banks’s lifetime, indicating that he did not keep it with the intent of benefitting financially from a subsequently published monograph. Rather it was written as a personal record and reference source for those who were to work on his collections; perhaps too to be loaned to and read by friends and like-minded scientists. Yet to read it now is also to open a window onto the twenty-three-year-old Banks himself. Somewhat idiosyncratic in literary style and full of poor grammar and spelling, the content reveals an enthusiastic and astute young man possessed of a considerable understanding of natural history; never overwhelmed by the newness of things encountered, yet perennially curious and observant. Despite an excited zeal conveyed at collecting (both specimens and experiences), the entries are written in a detached, scientific voice. Take, for example, his comments on 8 and 9 May after seeing icebergs for the first time. Banks here is clinical, alert; somewhat impressed, yet not effusive in the way a tourist of today might well be: at ten tonight for the first time we see an Island of Ice the night is Hazy but the Sky clear no moon the Ice itself appears like a body of whitish light in the Waves Dashing against it appear much more Luminous the Whole is not unlike the Gleaming of the Aurora Borealis When first seen it was about half a Mile ahead it drives within ¼ of a mile of us accompanied by several small flat Pieces of Ice which the seamen call field Ice which drives very near us and is Easily seen by its white appearance not unlike the Breaking of a wave into foam. 9 This Morn Seven Islands of Ice in sight one Very Large but not high about a League from us we steer very near a small one which from its Transparency & the Greenish Cast in it makes a very Beautiful appearance 26

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR two very Large Cracks intersect it Lenghways and Look Very Like mineral Veins in Rocks from its Rough appearance the Seamen judge that it is old Ice that is what formed the Winter before Last In the course of the Day we steer still nearer to another Island which appears as if Layd Strat: Super Stratum one of White another of Greenish. THE VOYAGE TO NEWFOUNDLAND

In summary, the expedition went as follows. Banks and Phipps arrived in Plymouth on 9 April only to find foul weather, which delayed their sailing. For the next thirteen days the men botanised, beachcombed, explored the Mount Edgecombe estate and travelled as far afield as the clay mines in Cornwall. On 22 April the two friends were aboard when, under the command of Sir Thomas Adams (1738–70), the Niger, a thirty-two-gun, 679-ton, fifth-rate frigate designed by Thomas Slade (today famous for designing HMS Victory), set sail for St. John’s, Newfoundland. Anchor would be dropped there on 11 May. During the nineteen-day voyage, and unbeknownst to him until his return, Banks was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society on 1 May. Less propitious was his discovery of an unfortunate tendency for seasickness. Nevertheless, once he had gained his sea legs he began his collecting: fishing and netting from the vessel. His scientific undertakings were conducted with the complicit blessings and generosity of Adams, who came to be a good friend. For the month the Niger was at St John’s, and with spring very late that year, Banks explored the surrounding countryside gathering specimens – botanical (‘Dog’s violets both blew and white’), geological, ornithological and marine. Here, as elsewhere he also made military observations proper to a gentleman and inspected the sites of passages of arms between the British and French. On 11 June the Niger moved to Croque harbour inside the northern peninsula of the island for a week, during which a productive garden was established in order to provide fresh victuals for the ship on her return journey. Croque itself Banks considered intolerable because of the combination of stultifying heat and an inordinate number of mosquitoes and gadflies; the dense forest making fieldwork harder still. Hearing reports of a ‘white bear’, Banks excitedly but unsuccessfully set out to look for it; and with the master of the Niger set out in a 27

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS shallop southward, botanising where he could and examining the bays and harbours. This was rough living, sleeping in his clothes in ‘the aft Cuddy’. The Niger then sailed northwards to Conche, leaving on 22 June and arriving at Hare Bay on 11 July for a three-week stay. For the latter part of June and most of July Banks was laid low with a fever, as he recounted to William Perrin in a letter dated 11 August: We have had the wettest & worst season here almost that ever was known which Laid Poor Pillgarlick up with a fever the most of the month of July to the Great detriment of his Collections as that is the very hight of the Season here for Plants however thank god he has got upon his Legs again by the assistance of a Bottle of Bark which always stands at his Elbow he has made one Excursion to Bellisle de Groias & returnd not ill Paid for his trouble.1

Self-mockingly calling himself ‘pillgarlick’ (a person looked upon with humorous contempt) belied the seriousness of his fever. Given its duration, and the fact that the cure was ‘a Bottle of Bark’ given to him by his sister – which can only have been a tincture of cinchona (quinine) – it is clear that Banks’s illness was serious. However, it was most likely a local vector-borne infection rather than malaria, for which quinine was the traditional cure, but which was not endemic to the area. On 6 August the Niger set sail for Chateau Bay in southern Labrador arriving on the 10th having endured a stormy passage. Here, at the entrance to the Strait of Belle Isle on the point covering the entrance into Pitt’s Harbour, the permanently manned Fort York was now constructed by the ship’s company, and the Marines disembarked to man it (Plate 6). During the two months of building works Banks explored the islands in the bay ranging as far and as wide as he could. He added to his collections, including a specimen subsequently identified as a great auk (Pinguinus impennis) – he had first observed what ‘the seamen call Penguins’ on 7 May; and a particularly grisly item: the scalp of Sam Fry, a fisherman who had been a victim of the Beothuk, an indigenous people of the island of Newfoundland. Banks did not encounter them, but he did gather sufficient accounts from others to prepare a summary. His inherent inquisitiveness 28

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR was matched only by his attention to detail, traits evident in his accounts of the English and the French fisheries, the practices of fishermen and his collection of recipes (including one for chowder and another for spruce beer). From Chateau Bay, and with his good spirits and health recovered, Banks sent home letters including an affectionate and gossipy missive to his sister Sarah Sophia, dated 11 August, in which he commented that his leisure time had been occupied by learning to play ‘a Poor innocent Guittar which Lay in the Cabbin on which I can play Lady Coventries minuet & in Infancy &c: with Great success’, before adding that that he hoped to meet ‘Eskimaux Ladies’ and that he wished ‘with all my heart they were Come as I might have sent you a sealskin gown & Petticoat Perfumd with train oil which to them is as Sweet as Lavander water’. He hoped too that ‘Mr Lee [James Lee, the nurseryman] has been Very Civil & Given you Nosegays as often as you have been to him if not tell him he shall not have one of my Insects when I come home’, and that ‘I do not know what Else to say I am almost Exhausted thank you however for your ague receipt it has one merit however I think for if it would not Cure an ague I am sure it would kill a horse’.2 At the start of September, with Adams’s consent, Banks planned a week or so’s voyage in a locally chartered shallop, accompanied once more by the Niger’s master. However, on 2 September as the small, sturdy vessel left the bay, a strong wind blew up, forcing their retreat back into the shelter of the harbour, where they overnighted. So fierce was the storm down the strait that several small vessels like the one Banks was in were lost, as were about 100 French fishermen. For the remainder of the stay Banks prudently restricted his fieldwork to within close proximity of the ship, before on 3 October – and with Banks now in possession of a live porcupine – the Niger departed. Arriving at Croque the next day to harvest their vegetables and to collect what poultry had survived the ravages of field-mice and weasels, Banks was glad to discover the plagues of biting insects had disappeared, and he now passed a rewarding week collecting further inland than he had previously. However this remained an unhealthy place, and both Adams and he were struck down with fever. Banks noted they were both ‘very ill . . . Especially me who at one time they [the ship’s company] did not Expect to recover’.3 It was now early autumn, and Banks, who had 29

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS observed and recorded the activities of the fishermen in the summer, was able to do the same for the English sealers and New England whalers. On 11 October the Niger reached St John’s where she remained for eighteen days. During his two bouts of fever Banks had come to know the ship’s surgeon William Monkhouse (d. 1770), whom two years later he would meet again aboard the Endeavour. And there is every likelihood that when HMS Grenville came into the harbour on 27 October 1766 Banks first met her commander, James Cook (1728–79). Each summer between 1763 to 1767 Cook sailed the Grenville to Newfoundland and Labrador where he surveyed and charted. Departing on 29 October, the Niger set sail for home, taking the passage via Lisbon, Portugal in order to take advantage of favourable southwesterly winds. Yet again the ship was battered by foul weather and on 5 November badly damaged: we shipp’d a Sea which Stove in our Quarter & almost Filld the Cabbin with water in an instant where it washd backward & forward with such rapidity that it broke in Peices Every chair & table in the place among other things that Sufferd my Poor Box of Seeds was one which was intirely demolish’d as was my Box of Earth with Plants in it which Stood upon deck . . .4 ROUGH SEAS, PORTUGAL AND HOME

Limping into Lisbon on 18 November 1766, the Niger dropped anchor in the River Targus and, with the ordeal of the rough passage behind him, Banks now enjoyed six weeks of pleasant late autumn weather. In Portugal he sought out local botanists, meeting and beginning correspondences with the Italian naturalist Domingo (sometimes Domingos or Domenico) Vandelli (1735–1816) and the Portuguese Jesuit João de Loureiro (1710–91). In Lisbon on a home visit, de Loureiro was a missionary in Goa and Macau who from 1742 spent thirty-five years in Cochinchina, a region encompassing the southern third of current Vietnam, where he acquired a knowledge of the properties and uses of native medicinal plants. In both cases there were long term consequences. In collaboration with Banks, Vandelli was instrumental in establishing Lisbon’s first botanic garden (1772–74), now the Botanic Garden of the University of Coimbra; and his correspondence with 30

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR Loureiro would result in the publication of the latter’s Flora Cochinchinensis (1790).5 But it was not all work and no play, and while the Portuguese were reluctant to engage socially with the British, Banks and Phipps were invited to call on various members of the British merchant families who worked the ‘factories’ in the city. Not least among these was Gerard Devisme (1725–97). From a Huguenot family that had fled from France to England in the late 1500s or early 1600s, Devisme went to Lisbon around 1746 where he made a vast fortune, possibly through the diamond trade with Brazil. He lived on his Quinta estate at Benfica and later at Monserrate, Sintra before returning to Britain around 1794 where he passed his last years at Wimbledon. At various social events the dashing Banks touched the hearts of at least two young ladies. Upon his arrival home he was followed by news of a little Italian ‘Condesshina’ – perhaps introduced to him by Vandelli, and Miss Molloy, ‘who is ready to attend you whenever you send a frigate of war for her’.6 Departing Lisbon on 30 December and after yet another stormy passage the Niger reached Spithead on 26 January 1767. Of the nearly ten months of the expedition, four had been passed at sea; of fieldwork ashore Banks, sickness aside, had achieved about seventeen weeks in Newfoundland and Labrador, plus ten days around Plymouth before departing and six weeks in Lisbon. Arriving home, Banks could justifiably feel a sense of achievement, of having successfully served his scientific apprenticeship. He had gained invaluable practical experience in the techniques and equipment necessary to collect, preserve and record with accuracy. He had demonstrated the temperament and perseverance necessary to be a successful field scientist, and in challenging conditions had endured the perils, hazards and frustrations of scientific adventure – suffering illness, near tragedy from a deadly storm and the exasperating loss of specimens. Significantly, too, he had discovered his personality and psychology were suited to conducting such endeavours within the close confines of life aboard a naval vessel. ACCOMPLISHMENTS AND CONSEQUENCES

From a natural history perspective, the expedition was a success and justified the faith put in Banks by his Royal Society fellowship sponsors. Analysis of the McGill Manuscript reveals that he documented thirty-four species of bird as well 31

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS as fish, crustacea and invertebrates; the zoological specimens were painted by Sydney Parkinson and Peter Paillou (about whom very little is known). The flora is better represented and preserved (Banks’s herbarium sheets are held in the Natural History Museum, London), and in spite of his losses to water damage, Banks collected about 350 plant taxa (including the type specimen of Rosa blanda, Plate 7), which Solander helped him catalogue. Twenty-three of the plants were worked up from herbarium sheets and painted on velum with lifelike vibrancy by the renowned German botanical artist Georg Dionysius Ehret (1708–70), to whom Banks was most likely introduced by Philip Miller – Ehret being married to Miller’s sister-in-law. Five of these works were bound into a volume together with the original artworks of the thirteen plates from Hortus Kewensis (1789); on the drawings of Kalmia glauca and Rhodora canadensis (now Rhododendron canadense) it was noted that Banks introduced these plants to Kew in 1767.7 This however is unlikely: it would mean Banks collected seed, and he was not on his voyage during seed season, and if he brought back live specimens no mention is made of such. Moreover, Banks had no known association with Kew at this date. More than all this, for the exhilarated Banks the voyage had been an epiphany. He now realised the opportunities offered to natural history by voyages of exploration and discovery that carried scientists as part of the ship’s complement. Although unintentional at the time, with hindsight it can be fairly claimed that with this voyage Banks established a new paradigm for ship-based natural history research. Indeed he was to make the point himself in February 1782, when in reply to Edward Hasted, who had written asking for some biographical details to be included in The History and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent, Banks opined: ‘I may flatter myself that, being the first [British] man of Scientifick education who undertook a voyage of discovery & that voyage of discovery being the first which turned out satisfactorily to this enlightened age I was in some measure the first who gave that turn to such voyages.’8 PEREGRINATIONS AROUND BRITAIN

Back in London, the travel-weary but content Banks took temporary lodgings at Mr Loisel’s in Conduit Street while he searched for a permanent residence and 32

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR organised temporary storage for his collections. A month or so later on 21 February 1767 Banks set out on a two-week ‘peregrination’ (as he liked to call his exploratory land travels) to the naval regions of Kent, namely Chatham, Rochester, Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppey. He may have had unfinished business with the Niger, and was perhaps invited by its commander Sir Thomas Adams, with whom he travelled from Gillingham. After spending this time enjoying a spot of field botany, geology and fossil-hunting, Banks was back in London in early March. That April he purchased his first private residence at 14 New Burlington Street, a tall, narrow building which was to be his base for the next decade and which he set about renovating, modifying and modernising with bespoke furnishings commissioned from Stansfield Parkinson, the brother of the artist Sydney. By now Banks in all likelihood had decided to pursue a career in natural history, but exactly how that decision would play out was not yet clear. A year later, in the spring and summer of 1768, there would be greater clarity: from his new home Banks would then plan and organise his second voyage of scientific exploration. In the meantime there were estate matters at Revesby requiring his attention and further peregrinations to be made. In late spring he headed to the West Country – his travel plans he outlined to Thomas Pennant in a letter dated 14 May, and the details he recorded in his ‘Journal of an Excursion to Eastbury and Bristol etc. in May and June 1767’.9 Leaving London on the 15th, Banks first called at Eastbury, Dorset to spend a week with his aunt Peggy and to see his young cousin Louisa. He pursued his antiquarian interests exploring long barrows and the Bradbury Rings earthworks, and visited Critchel House where, as a keen fisherman he was intrigued by the 280-acre lake, which was dragged every third year yielding 16,000 pounds’ weight of fish that netted a financial harvest of £400. From Eastbury Banks travelled via Bristol to Chepstow (23 May), back to Bristol (26–28 May), Wells (29 May), Cheddar Gorge (30 May), Glastonbury (31 May), where he was ‘almost bit to death’ by mosquitoes, Sedgemoor (1 June), Taunton and Hestercombe before returning to Bristol on 4 June, botanising all the way. On 17 June Banks paid a visit to Clevedon Court and Sir Abraham Elton, a master of the Merchant Venturers and a good friend of his uncle Robert; and after a couple more days in Bristol he returned to London, arriving home on 20 June. 33

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS In another (undated) letter to Pennant,10 Banks intimated he had plans, albeit at an early stage, to travel to Sweden. He asked rhetorically if Pennant ‘could blame me if I Sacraficed every Consideration to an opportunity of Paying a visit to our Master Linnaeus & Profiting by his Lectures before he dies who is now so old that he cannot Long Last’. In fact the great man was then only sixty and had another good decade ahead of him. Six and a half months later a letter from Pennant (dated 15 January 1768) revealed that Banks, perhaps inspired and encouraged by Solander, now also hoped to tread in the master’s footsteps and to undertake a plant hunting expedition to Lapland. More evidence that Banks had raised the matter (and had decided to devote his life to natural history) is to be found in a warm and friendly letter from his uncle Robert Banks-Hodgkinson dated 2 July: ‘Far be it from me to throw the least impediment in a Scheme that I daresay will be satisfactory hereafter & will forward the pursuit of natural History in which Vinyard you now place your principal Labour & which I hope will produce fruits of honor & happiness both to yourself [and] all your Friends among which you know I hope and believe I wish always to be with the first.’ The letter found Banks at Revesby where he had arrived from London in the last week of June, and where he passed several weeks before returning to the capital on August 13. The same day he was off west again on yet another peregrination, one that this time would occupy five and a half months.11 His first destination was Robert’s Edwinsford estate, and after botanising along the way via Oxford (where he visited Professor Sibthorp), he was affectionately welcomed by his uncle on 17 August. There was a genuine friendship and respect between the two men, now aged twenty-four and forty-six, that went beyond mere blood ties; the pair passed a happy three months in one another’s company. They oversaw the late harvest, from 15 September took a five-day horseback excursion in south Powys including the Brecon Beacons, and from the 25th made a trip to Pembrokeshire, returning to Edwinsford on 5 October. On coming back the antiquarian Banks excavated and recorded a Bronze Age ‘round barrow’ tumulus in nearby Llansadwrn. Banks finally took his leave of his uncle on 16 November, journeying to visit Thomas Pennant at Dowding, where he spent a week studying Pennant’s 34

NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR collection of English shells and crabs before heading for his Staffordshire estate of Cheadle. Now, and in contrast to natural history, antiquarian studies and the agricultural lands of Wales, Banks spent a couple of months exploring the heartland of the Industrial Revolution. Banks was much interested in contemporary industrial improvements that might have a bearing on his landowning endeavours and income: he investigated the engineering technologies and manufacturing activities that were transforming both the landscape and the nation’s finances: chemical works and lime kilns, the processes of crystallisation, of smelting and iron-casting, the mining, quarrying and canal-construction, and the use of steam power for fabricating cotton textiles and pumping water. He also managed a couple of cultural interludes in Staffordshire with a stay at Shugborough and a visit to the gardens of Wolseley Hall, which boasted a heated grape house and one of the first cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) trees planted in Britain. Wending his way back to London – with another stop to look up friends at Christ Church – he reached home in time for dinner on 29 January 1768.

35

THREE 

HMS Endeavour 1768–71

I PLANNING Banks’s plan to travel to Sweden and Lapland, once seen as such priority, now fell by the wayside. By some means – perhaps now-lost gossipy letters received from friends during his peregrination that late summer and autumn of 1767, or in person soon after his return to London – Banks had caught wind of something he knew he had to be a part of. That something was issued as a report on 19 November 1767 by the Royal Society’s Transit of Venus Committee, set up the preceding February and tasked with establishing ‘the places proper to observe the ensuing Transit of Venus, and the method, the persons fit, and other particulars relative to the same’. THE TRANSIT OF VENUS

The transit of Venus is a rare astronomical event during which the planet passes across the face of the sun. It occurs in a pattern that generally repeats every 243 years, with pairs of transits occurring eight years apart; these paired events are separated by long gaps of 121.5 years and 105.5 years. This event was significant to astronomy because in 1676 Sir Edmund Halley had made an important observation of the transit of Mercury while residing on the island of Saint Helena, from which he reasoned that accurate measurement of the transit of 36

HMS ENDEAVOUR Venus would allow calculation of the sun’s parallax (the angle subtended by the earth’s radius at the surface of the sun). This in turn would allow the distance between the Earth and Venus to be established, and by using measurements of the event made from different locations around the globe, the distance to the sun to be determined using trigonometry. With that, Kepler’s laws of planetary motion could be applied to compute the orbits of all the planets out to Saturn (then the outermost known planet), and thus also the size of the solar system. For the 1761 transit, and as part of the international effort of 120 observers from nine nations, the Royal Society had separately dispatched the Rev. Dr Nevil Maskelyne (1732–1811) to Saint Helena, and to Sumatra Charles Mason (1728– 86) and Jeremiah Dixon (1733–79); the pair are best remembered today for their survey of the Mason–Dixon line in Maryland and Pennsylvania (1763–67), during which they made the measurement of the length of a degree of latitude. Due to French naval interference Mason and Dixon got only as far as the Cape of Good Hope, while poor weather in both locations unfortunately frustrated these observational efforts. The 1769 event was therefore significant, because it offered the only opportunity to make accurate measurements until the transit of 1874. In December 1765 Thomas Hornsby (1733–1810), professor of astronomy at Oxford University, had prepared a paper, ‘On the Transit of Venus in 1769’, which was read before the Royal Society the following February. Among much detail he identified seventeen island groups in the South Pacific as suitable locations for a temporary observatory. The Royal Society and Maskelyne, who had been appointed the fifth astronomer royal in 1765, began planning, and in June 1766 the Royal Society Council Minutes reveal it had resolved ‘to send astronomers to several parts of the World in order to observe the Transit’. In addition to Northern Ireland and the Lizard, Cornwall, the Transit of Venus Committee eventually decided upon three foreign locations for observation: the Prince of Wales Fort in Hudson Bay, northeast Canada, the North Cape in Norway, and an island in the South Pacific. It was this last location, albeit at this stage without a specific destination, that had Banks particularly excited. For it was a part of the world where the natural history was almost entirely unstudied. 37

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS EXPANDING THE ROYAL SOCIETY’S AGENDA

On 15 February 1768 the Council of the Royal Society approved, signed and sent a memorial to King George III. Reading somewhat like an eighteenth-century version of a modern research application, it made the case for a grant of £4,000 to cover the expenses of sending a team of scientists to an island in the South Sea in order to observe this rare astronomical event: To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty. The Memorial of the President, Council, and Fellows, of the Royal Society of London, for improving Natural Knowledge. Humbly sheweth, That the passage of the Planet Venus over the Disc of the Sun, which will happen on 3 June in the year 1769 . . . a Phaenomenon that must, if the same be accurately observed in the proper places, contribute greatly to the improvement of Astronomy on which Navigation so much depends . . .1

The Royal Society’s aim of astronomical observances dovetailed neatly with the government (operating through the apparatus of the Admiralty) espying an opportunity for geographical discovery and potential colonial expansion into the South Seas while simultaneously frustrating those other European powers bent on the same intent. In fact, it had been Lord Sandwich as first lord of the Admiralty who in 1749 had first advocated the exploration of a broad swathe of the Pacific between 10° and 35° South, but the plan had been abandoned in the face of Spanish objections – at the time an Anglo-Spanish trade agreement was being delicately negotiated. Initially, natural history was not considered as part of the scheme, nor Banks as part of the team. Banks’s interest in the South Seas had likely been piqued the previous May when he had purchased and no doubt read before sending on to William Perrin in Paris the anonymously authored A Voyage round the World in His Majesty’s Ship The Dolphin Commanded by the Honourable Commodore Byron (1767). Supposedly written ‘By an Officer on Board the said Ship’, and today usually ascribed to Midshipman Charles Clerke, the account was an unauthorised 38

HMS ENDEAVOUR but in the most part accurate and engrossing account of the most recent circumnavigation via the Southern Hemisphere. The twenty-five-year-old Banks desperately wanted the opportunity to collect, study and record both natural history specimens and knowledge from this mostly unexplored part of the world. And this was to be another of those significant moments when, recognising the advantageous research opportunities that the voyage offered, Banks grasped the initiative and by dint of his own endeavours, melded the expedition objectives and outcomes to his, and natural history’s, benefit. But it was not going to be easy. Moreover, Banks knew that the first southern circumnavigation of HMS Dolphin had taken twenty-three months; and taking into consideration his Niger experience he realised that maximising the natural history potential of an expedition of this magnitude would require the support of a well-prepared and well-equipped multidisciplinary team. Just how to secure his (and his team’s) inclusion became the focus of Banks’s endeavours in early 1768. He punctiliously attended the Royal Society dining club (then meeting in Middle Temple Hall) each Thursday evening of February. Here the convivial atmosphere and informal conversations between like-minded souls gave him the perfect opportunity to take soundings and gather information. Sometime late that month Banks was likely an early and informal recipient of the news, officially delivered on 24 March to the Council of the Royal Society by its president, Lord Morton, that in response to the society’s memorial the king had bestowed a royal grant of £4,000 clear of all fees, and had ordered the Admiralty to commission a suitable ship to undertake the voyage. The voyage was on. Banks’s first objective was to lobby and convince the Royal Society that the study of natural history was as meritorious as astronomy, that the expedition could undertake both, and that he was the right scientist to send. In this, his experiences and successes on the Newfoundland and Labrador expedition stood him in good stead. Indeed, his expertise in conducting natural history studies on a voyage of exploration was unique within the Society. Banks would have known that at this stage his inclusion would needs be in addition to the Royal Society’s choice of ‘a proper person to send to the South Seas, having a particular turn for discoveries, and being an able navigator, and well skilled 39

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS in Observations’.2 That man was Alexander Dalrymple (1737–1808), one of the first geographers of the age, a distinguished hydrographer previously in the service of the Honourable East India Company (HEIC). Later, from 1779, Dalrymple would head the hydrographic office at the HEIC, and in 1795 would become the first hydrographer of the British Admiralty. He also devised a descriptive scale for grading wind speed that Francis Beaufort later refined into the wind scale that bears his name and remains in use today. Importantly for this voyage, Dalrymple was a strong (almost obsessive) proponent of the theory that there existed in the South Pacific a vast and undiscovered continent: Terra Australis Incognita, a land mass that balanced the continental land mass of the Northern Hemisphere. In his nonnegotiable communication with the Council on 7 December 1767, Dalrymple had set out his terms: ‘I have no thoughts of undertaking the Voyage as a passenger going out to make the Observation or any other footing than that of having the Management of the Ship intended for the Service.’3 That he agreed to participate only if granted full command of the voyage and authority over the expedition may have been part of a hidden agenda on Dalrymple’s part. There is no firm evidence, but given his interest in exploration, and in particular his intense belief in the existence of Terra Australis Incognita, it is reasonable to hypothesise that after completing the astronomical observations Dalrymple envisaged the following scenario: incommunicado, a long way from home and with a vessel at his disposal and under his command, he would be able to take advantage of the perfect opportunity to undertake a spot of freelance exploration to prove his pet theory. As he had noted, searching for – better still discovering – the Southern Continent was something he dearly wanted to do: Every young man enters life with a passion to emulate those characters which have gained his admiration . . . The Author looking up to Columbus, to Magellan, and to those immortal heroes who have display’d new worlds to our view, was inflamed with the ambition to do something to promote the general benefit of mankind, at the same time that it should add to the glory and interest of his country. The first and most striking object of research was, The discovery of a Southern Continent . . . the great Passion of his life.4 40

HMS ENDEAVOUR ‘A CAT-BUILT VESSEL’

In fact this is exactly what transpired, except that the exploration was undertaken on orders issued secretly by the government and the commander was not Dalrymple. On 29 February 1768, Lord Shelburne, secretary of state for the Southern Department, informed the Admiralty of the king’s instructions, upon which it acted with remarkable alacrity. On 5 March Philip Stephens, first secretary of the Admiralty and Banks’s friend from the British Museum Reading Room, sent the king’s command to the Navy Board requesting it find a proper vessel. The Board replied, recommending ‘a cat-built vessel which in their kind are roomly and will afford the advantage of storing and carrying a large quantity of provisions so necessary on such voyages, and in this respect preferable to a man of war’. The two such vessels then in the River Thames were inspected, and on 27 March the Earl of Pembroke, a three-year-nine-month-old Whitby collier built by Fishburn of Whitby and owned by Thomas Milner was approved and valued at £2,307 5s 6d.5 On 5 April the Admiralty noted in its minutes that the Navy Board had reported that the vessel had been purchased ‘for conveying to the Southward the persons intended to be sent thither to observe the Transit of Venus over the Sun’s Disk’ and that it had been ordered to be ‘. . . sheathed, filled and fitted for that service, to be registered on the List of the Navy as a Bark by the name of the Endeavour’ (Plate 8).6 The particular choice of this class of nonnaval vessel indicates that those involved in the decision-making were familiar with it and recognised it as the most suitable for the task ahead. One person to whom these ‘Whitby cats’ were especially well known was the former-Whitby resident James Cook. Much has been written about whether Cook was involved with the selection of the vessel or conversely whether his appointment to command was because of the Navy Board’s choice, or both. A combination of circumstances and Cook’s highly esteemed reputation within the Admiralty indicate ‘both’. It is known that Cook was at the old Admiralty building in Whitehall on 4 March – the day before Stephens wrote to the Navy Board – to deliver his journals and charts from the previous season’s work in Newfoundland. And it is possible too that Cook was the Navy’s preferred candidate to command, or was at least under consideration, from the commencement of discussions with 41

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the Royal Society. Moreover it is within the bounds of probability that Cook and Banks met – albeit informally – at the Admiralty that March of 1768. Indeed they may already have been in communication. The matter under discussion was, of all things, an Inuit canoe. On 18 December 1767 Captain Wilkinson of the Niger (he had replaced Adams that year) had written to Banks: I’d got a Canoe for you which I sent home in the Grenville [Cook’s surveying schooner] as she came to Deptford, but she Unluckily run on shore & it was wash’d over board & lost as I am told, tho I have not been able to see Mr Cook to ask him about it, nor I am afraid shan’t as I am going into the Country but if you’ll please to send to him he will let you know whether there are any hopes of getting it . . . Mr Cook lives I am told some where about Mile end, but the Vessel I believe is got up to Deptford [so] that I fancy it will be best to send to enquire on board her . . .7

It has not been possible to ascertain whether Banks did in fact correspond with Cook (although it would seem reasonable to assume he did so in order to discover the whereabouts of his errant canoe); nor is it known if it did in fact come into his posession. THE PERSUASIVE BANKS AND A LUCKY BREAK

Banks’s charm offensive on the Royal Society worked. During March the Society came to recognise the merits and advantages of Banks and his men becoming part of the team aboard the Endeavour. Neverthlesss, not all Banks’s friends were so encouraging and several recommended he give up the notion and enjoy instead a Grand Tour. Banks’s reply was emphatic: ‘Every blockhead does that; my Grand Tour shall be one round the whole globe.’8 On 2 April Lord Morton met with the first lord of the Admiralty, Sir Edward Hawke, to discuss the scientific team. The king had made it clear that the expedition was to be undertaken by a partnership between the Royal Society and the Royal Navy: it would be conceived and executed by the former, and practically facilitated by the latter. But to those involved it was clear this was a co-operation between two unequal partners: the 42

HMS ENDEAVOUR respected yet peripheral scientific institution with its 385 Fellows, and the powerful and influential Admiralty, an integral component of the machinery of state. At the meeting Morton advanced Dalrymple as commander and principal astronomical observer. His proposal was flatly rejected by Hawke as ‘entirely repugnant to the regulations of the Navy’. A day later Morton reported as much to the Council. Dalrymple was duly informed, and, refusing to participate unless in command, removed himself from further direct involvement. Dalrymple’s withdrawal was an unexpected boon to Banks: in Dalrymple’s absence the Society’s status within the joint venture was diminished – but his and his team’s inclusion would more than redress the balance. And to Dalrymple’s credit, he seems not to have been put out by Banks joining the expedition, going as far as to present him with copies of his An Account of the Discoveries made in the South Pacifick Ocean Previous to 1764 and his Chart of the South Pacifick Ocean, pointing out the Discoveries made therein Previous to 1764. Banks may have learned unofficially around this time that Cook would probably be appointed chief observer and commander: records from the Admiralty and Navy Board suggest – although do not prove – that Cook was first officially considered for command between 5 and 12 April. But this was immaterial unless Banks could also convince the Admiralty that he should be included in the expedition, and this was a much tougher sell than it had been to the Royal Society. Mostly a tolerant and tactful gentleman, Banks possessed a touch of the attitude prevalent among socially and financially privileged young gentleman of his generation: that is to say, an unwavering conviction of his right to be obliged, an expectation of receiving whatever it was he desired. However, in this instance he was sufficiently acute to realise that he was not entitled to the voyage just because of who he was. Moreover, he was all too well aware that there were much wealthier noblemen with with far superior pedigrees to his at the Admiralty who would not take kindly to the parvenu country gentleman Banks lording it over them, demanding his inclusion. Sensibly, as well as presenting his personal request, Banks made use of his influential and sympathetic friends and allies whose opinion carried weight at the Admiralty, not least Sir Thomas Adams, commander of the Niger, Lord Sandwich, the former first lord 43

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of the Admiralty and Vice-Admiral Augustus John Hervey, along with Hervey’s nephew Constantine Phipps: Phipps may not have enjoyed senior naval rank, but he had the right social status and connections to provide support. And of course there was the pivotal cross-over figure in the form of Philip Stephens, the first secretary of the Admiralty. There is no surviving evidence indicating how Banks talked Sir Edward Hawke, the first lord, round: talking or informal paperwork combined with assurances from friends whose opinions mattered, rather than formal written submission, was the modus operandi. But in a letter of 16 August, Banks recalled to William Perrin his early April meeting with Sir Edward (whom he thought ‘more seaman than philosopher’): ‘When I stated the Case & told him what I meant to do his answer was you sire are very welcome to go & it will be my care that you have every convenience which I can Procure for you but we cannot find room for people skilld in Botany & drawers of Plants this at first hurt me much & I had almost given over my Plan.’9 PERMISSION GRANTED BY THE ADMIRALTY

Now assured of his berth an excited Banks indiscreetly wrote to his friend, the antiquarian and natural historian Thomas Falconer (1744–1824) in an undated letter, likely penned that first week of April: Our destination You seem desirous to Know & have been kind enough through Mr. Pennant to give me hopes that I may be Favourd with some hints from you for which I can assure you that I should be particularly obligd. The Admiralty have thought fit to be Mysterious about us so that I myself can not Positively say where we are going and when I tell you that it is my opinion we are for the South Seas I must beg the favour of you not to mention it again for those parts however we are pretty certainly design’d and if we proceed to make discoveries on the Terra Australis Incognita I shall probably have a finer opportunity for the Exercise of my Poor abilities than Ever man before had as there Seems to be a strong Probability From the Scarce Intelligible accounts of Travelers That almost Every Production of Nature is here very different from what we see at this End of the Globe . . .10 44

HMS ENDEAVOUR Banks’s participation quickly became common knowledge among his coterie. Writing to him from Oxford on 10 April, Pennant was sufficiently informed to offer advice, including on oilskin coats and umbrellas for tropical climes (of the latter he advocated both those of fine silk and strong oilskin). And a day later the silversmith and entomologist Dru Drury sent the following gossipy missive to the Prussian zoologist Peter Simon Pallas in Saint Petersburg, Russia: You know ye Transit of Venus will happen in June 1769 & as an accurate & nice observation of it in different parts of ye World will be of great utility & consequence to Astronomy Some Gentlemen in that Science are to go out this year from hence to ye South Seas in order to make those observations. Mr. Banks a Gentleman of considerable fortune is extreamly desirous of availing himself of this opportunity & going with them in ye same ship in order to make discoveries in Natural History & to this end is actually making preparations for that purpose. His being a strong Naturalist possessed of a Large Fortune & being determined to spare no expence are circumstances that give all well wishers to that study ye highest expectations of his Success. The Rout is intended first to Madeira Islands, from thence they are to go by easy Voyages along ye Coast of Brazil, thro’ ye streights of Magellan & to refresh at some of ye Spanish Towns on ye Western Coast of South America having already a Passport or Permission from ye King of Spain to do so. After they have made ye observation wch. is to be done on some Island as much to ye Southward as possible they propose to return to Europe by ye way of ye East Indies. The whole will in all probability not take them less than 2 years & a half. Hence you perceive we have Gentlemen in England whose desires for ye improvement of Nat: Hist: are equal to those of any Person in ye World. But I must inform you of one circumstance & that is that Mr. Banks has judgement enough to prevent him engaging in Affairs of State & consequently detaching himself from all Parties has more leisure to pursue his darling Study. I wish for my Soul we had many more of his Stamp in this Kingdom but while avarice Luxury & Ambition hold ye Reigns we must not expect alterations for ye better . . .11 45

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Yet Banks still required permission for his team to accompany him, and now displayed his quickly learned understanding of the mechanisms of Admiralty bureaucracy. Deliberately avoiding the sceptical first lord he instead made applications directly to the more receptive First Secretary Stephens who, as Banks recounted to Perrin in his aforementioned letter of 16 August, ‘undertook to do it all without any more trouble to me [and] who has done Everything we wanted with as much alacrity & spirit as could be wishd’. Permission had been granted. JAMES COOK

For about a month the expedition remained officially leaderless, and the chief astronomical post vacant. Then in early May the Admiralty showed its hand, advancing the thirty-nine-year-old Royal Navy lieutenant James Cook. Perceptive to the realpolitik of the situation, and perhaps in a quid pro quo arrangement allowing Banks to take his team, the Council of the Royal Society interviewed Cook on 5 May and as recorded in the Council Minutes appointed him as their chief observer of the transit. For this he would receive £170 a year for victualling himself and the other observer (an agreeable supplement to naval rations), and in addition to his naval salary would receive ‘such a gratuity as the Society shall think proper’ (in the event 100 guineas). At the same meeting the astronomer Charles Green (1734–71) accepted the position of ‘the other observer’, at a fee of 200 guineas for the voyage, with an additional 100 guineas a year should it last more than two years. The son of a well-to-do farmer of Swinton, Yorkshire, Green was educated in London at a school run by his eldest brother. Following a period as an assistant teacher there, during which time he continued his astronomical studies, in 1760 he was appointed as assistant to James Bradley, astronomer royal at the Royal Greenwich Observatory. Three years later Green and Maskelyne sailed to Barbados on the instruction of the Board of Longitude as monitors to test the accuracy of John Harrison’s H4 chronometer against the lunar distance method. Following their return in 1764 Green briefly worked as assistant to Maskelyne, the new astronomer royal, but the two fell out and parted company. Yet, despite their earlier disagreement, Maskelyne, who 46

HMS ENDEAVOUR was serving on the Society’s Transit of Venus Committee recommended him for the post of second observer. The choice of Cook could not have been bettered. An accomplished, courageous, resourceful and resolute seaman blessed with a natural authority that commanded respect from those who served under him, Cook was a talented navigator, skilled mathematician and surveyor, and a more than capable astronomer. Professionally, he was the ideal commander; personally, he was modest and good company, attributes that contributed to a generally happy ship. Born on 27 October 1728 at the small village of Marton, Yorkshire, Cook spent his early years obtaining the rudiments of an education at the local school and helping his farm-labourer father. Aged seventeen he was apprenticed to a grocer at Staithes, a village close by Whitby. Legend has it that it was staring out of the grocer’s window over the North Sea, dreaming of a more exciting life, that inspired him to join the Merchant Navy. Whatever the truth of the matter, Cook could not endure the work, lasting eighteen months before first going to sea in 1746. Cook began his three-year apprenticeship in the Freelove, a Whitby collier plying the challenging and often treacherous passage between Newcastle and London. Part of the apprenticeship was the study of algebra, geometry, trigonometry, navigation and astronomy, at which Cook excelled. Working his way up through the ranks, in 1755 he was offered his first command in the collier brig Friendship. However, the twenty-six-year-old decided instead to join the Royal Navy with the (greatly reduced) rank of able seaman at Wapping on 17 June 1755. His first ship was the sixty-gun HMS Eagle. That autumn Cook saw action in the Seven Years’ War and when Hugh Palliser (late Admiral Sir Hugh) took command of the Eagle he recognised Cook’s natural abilities. Cook had already been promoted master’s mate; Palliser encouraged him to go further. In June 1757 Cook passed his Trinity House master’s examinations and was given a warrant as master in the Pembroke, also of sixty guns. Now active in the North American theatre of war, Cook was charged with charting much of the entrance to the Saint Lawrence River during the Siege of Quebec. Technically challenging and physically dangerous (the work took place opposite the French positions), his endeavour was critical to the success of General Wolfe’s 47

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS famous waterborne attack during the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (1759). His skills brought him to the attention of the Admiralty, which after the war’s end tasked him with charting much of the Newfoundland coast during five seasons in the early 1760s. It was his accurate observations of the 1766 solar eclipse, submitted in a paper to the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions, that made him a known quantity with the Council. A decade later he was elected a Fellow.12 Cook’s commission to ‘first lieutenant Endeavour Bark’ (sufficient rank to take command) was dated 25 May and two days later he hoisted his pennant. With the political jockeying over, a practical urgency took hold and Cook was ‘required and directed to use the utmost dispatch in getting’ the Endeavour ready for sea at Deptford dockyard. With Cook commencing two months of frenetic preparation and Banks at Revesby settling estate matters, their destination was decided by serendipity. On 20 May Captain Samuel Wallis had returned with HMS Dolphin from her second circumnavigation bringing news of his new discovery: King George III’s Island or Otahite (present-day Tahiti). The island not only lay within the observation zone Maskelyne had decreed to the Royal Society Transit of Venus Committee (‘any place not exceeding 30 degrees of Southern Latitude and between the 140th & 180th degrees of longitude west of your Majesty’s Royal Observatory in Greenwich park’) but its latitude and longitude were known, its climate benign, its inhabitants friendly, and there was a good harbour at Port Royal Bay (Matavai Bay). More than this, the Dolphin voyage account made mention of land sighted some 20 leagues (60 nautical miles) south of the island, unfortunately at a time when Wallis and his first lieutenant were too ill to investigate further. The Dolphin’s master, George Robertson, also made mention in his journal of land 60 miles from Tahiti. Was this Terra Australis Incognita? The prospect that discovery of the fabled Southern Continent might become part of the mission was not lost on the government, and when on 9 June the Royal Society asked the Admiralty for its assent, no objection was raised to Tahiti. Significantly for Banks, the Society’s missive, written by Morton, formalised its request that his team be part of the expedition: 48

HMS ENDEAVOUR Joseph Banks Esqr, Fellow of the Society, a Gentleman of large fortune, who is well versed in natural history, being Desirous of undertaking the same voyage the Council very earnestly request their Lordships, that in regard to Mr Banks’s great personal merit, and for the Advancement of useful knowledge, He also, together with his Suite, being seven persons more, (that is, eight in all) together with their baggage, be received on board of the ship in command of Captain Cook.13 BANKS’S TEAM – ‘THE GENTLEMEN’

The extract above reveals the officially authorised size of Banks’s party, and that he had been actively recruiting. Herman Spöring Jr (1733–71) was to be his secretary, cataloguer and draughtsman. Born in Finland (then part of the Kingdom of Sweden), Spöring studied medicine under his father at the Royal Academy of Åbo (now Turku) before moving to London in 1775, where he worked as a watchmaker, and, for the two years preceding the Endeavour expedition, as Solander’s clerk. He was knowledgeable about zoology and with his horological skills was assigned the maintenance and upkeep of the ship’s scientific equipment for the duration of the voyage. Two artists fomed part of Banks’s team: for natural history, Sydney Parkinson, whom Banks had used for his Newfoundland zoological illustrations; and for landscapes and people, Alexander Buchan (d. 1769 and about whom little is known). Presumably, like Parkinson, a Scot, Buchan’s unfortunate early demise meant that no good record was made of the landscapes and ethnology of the South Seas peoples at this initial point of sustained Western interaction. Four servants were to assist with everyday operations: the ever-faithful Peter Briscoe, a Revesby tenant who had been with Banks at Oxford and had travelled with him to Newfoundland, and who over time developed skills as a collector of natural history specimens; the sixteen-year-old James Roberts, also from Revesby; and two black servants, Thomas Richmond and George Dorlton. The fact that none of his seven-man team were scientists would have laid a heavy burden on Banks indeed, but in the event he was to recruit an eighth member and was to be more than ably assisted throughout the voyage by Daniel 49

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Solander (Plate 9). Although the last to join, Solander had in fact been the first to volunteer. In his letter of 1784 to Johan Alströmer, recalling Solander’s life (see above, p. 20), Banks wrote that when he first mentioned the trip to the kindly Swede he ‘received the news with great enthusiasm; without a moment’s delay he promised to give me information about everything pertaining to natural history which might be encountered on such a long and unprecedented voyage’. But a few days later, when dining at Lady Anne Monson’s, Banks began talking about how I had an unmatched opportunity to enrich science and to become famous, Solander all at once excitedly rose from his chair and asked me with intent eyes: Would you like a fellow traveler? I answered: Someone like you would give me untold pleasures and rewards. Then that is it, he said, I’ll travel with you; and from that moment everything was settled and decided. On the following day I visited Sir Edward Hawke, the First Lord of the Admiralty, in order to gain permission to take a colleague.14

It may be that time played tricks with Banks’s memory for dates, because he must have first mentioned the voyage to Solander in the early months of 1768. Banks did not receive permission to join the voyage until early April, and it must be after this that he approached Hawke about Solander’s participation. Whatever the order of events, Solander applied to the Board of Trustees of the British Museum for a leave of absence from his official duties as assistant keeper for the duration of the Endeavour voyage. Permission was granted on 28 June and now the cheerful, chubby scientist, the most knowledgeable botanist in Britain, officially became a member of Banks’s team, bringing the total number of the party to nine. The return of the Dolphin had attracted considerable press interest – particularly due to the unknown fate of her sister ship, the Swallow, which had yet to return – and now, on 16–18 June, the St James’s Chronicle carried the first reporting of the forthcoming Endeavour voyage. Although Banks is not named his participation is clearly indicated: 50

HMS ENDEAVOUR The Endeavour, a North-Country Cat, is purchased by the Government, and commanded by a Lieutenant of the Navy; she is fitting out at Deptford for the South-Sea, thought to be intended for the newly discovered Island. Several astronomers are going out in her, to observe the Transit of Venus over the Sun; and some Gentlemen of Fortune, who are Students of Botany, are likewise going in her upon a Tour of Pleasure. Thus we see, that a Voyage round the World, or to the South-Sea, which a few years ago was looked upon as a forlorn Hope, and the very mention of which, was enough to frighten our stoutest Seamen, is now found from Experience, to be no more dreaded than a common Voyage to the East-Indies.

On 20 July, Lloyd’s Evening Post was the first to have more specifics: ‘The Endeavour Bark, of which Mr. James Cook is appointed Lieutenant and Commander, bound to the South Sea, under the Direction of the Royal Society, is fallen down to Blackwall, and will sail in about a Fortnight. Banks, Esq; a Gentleman of a considerable Fortune, and several other Gentlemen skilled in Astronomy, Botany, and Natural History, are going out on the said Bark.’ Banks instantly became a minor celebrity, receiving various unsolicited offers of help from members of the general public. A London merchant, for example, sent him peach spirit together with advice on the use of lemon juice as an antiscorbutic, and a description of the proper way of curing fresh provisions at sea; advice which Banks seems to have taken, for he shipped both a concoction of concentrated lemon juice and salted or cured cabbage. At last, on 22 July, and with the Endeavour’s fitting-out nearly complete, the Admiralty instructed Stephens to direct Cook to receive ‘Joseph Banks Esq and his Suite consisting of eight Persons with their Baggage, bearing them as Supernumeraries for Victuals only, and Victualling them as Barks Company during their continuance on board’.15 That is to say that the Admiralty would provide the supernumeraries with food and cabin- or hammock-space, but anything other than that – extra edibles, drinkables and luxuries, and of course all their scientific equipment and wages – Banks had to pay for out of his own pocket. In a revealing letter to Linnaeus dated 19 August 1768, John Ellis, Banks’s 51

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS natural historian friend and associate of four years’ standing, gave an inkling of the equipment Banks shipped: No people ever went to sea better fitted out for the purpose of Natural History, nor more elegantly. They have got a fine Library of Natural History; they have all sorts of machines for catching and preserving insects; all kinds of nets, trawls, drags and hooks for coral fishing; they have even a curious contrivance of a telescope by which, put into the water, you can see the bottom to a great depth, where it is clear. They have many cases of bottles with ground stoppers of several sizes to preserve animals in spirits. They have the several sorts of salts to surround the seeds; and wax, both bees-wax and that of the Myrica; besides there are many people whose sole business it is to attend them for this very purpose . . .16 EXPEDITION COSTS AND EQUIPMENT

In the same letter John Ellis inaccurately placed Banks’s income at £6,000 a year and made the oft-quoted claim that Banks outlaid £10,000 for the expedition. In the absence of equipment lists and accounts it is not possible to calculate the actual exact cost, but a rough estimate reveals Ellis’s figure to be manifestly too high. Banks had an eight-man team to salary, and it is known from a letter that he paid Parkinson £80 pounds a year.17 If this is taken as an average for each of his team, for the three-year voyage his total wages bill would have been £1,920 (and in the event his wages bill was reduced because five of his team unfortunately did not live to return). No complete inventory of the 20 tons of equipment shipped has survived, but receipts for fitting-out his expected second circumnavigation have; the record is incomplete, but the sum in this case appears to have been £2,317 4s 6½d.18 If this is taken as an approximate figure for the first trip too, a very rough total for wages and equipment is therefore £4,238. Add to that whatever is missing from the sum of £2,317 4s 6½d, plus Banks’s personal expenditure on extra victuals, luxuries and so on, then the voyage total perhaps amounted to somewhere in the region of £6,000. A substantial outlay certainly, but considerably less that Ellis’s figure. 52

HMS ENDEAVOUR A partial inventory for Banks’s team on the Endeavour voyage gives an insight into some of the equipment shipped.19 The carpenter John Codd was paid £70 for bespoke wooden boxes in which equipment was stored: twenty strong chests, eight strong tin cases and six strong cases internally partitioned to hold glass ‘rounds’ (specimen bottles with ground-glass stoppers), all the above fitted with hinged lids and locks; five small boxes (four with locks) to hold documents, plate and various small items; a wainscot box with brass hinges and clasp; and one large case for the book cases. To collect marine specimens, Banks used a diversity of fishing tackle and nets deployed from the deck or while sculling about in his small boat – or as Cook called it, a ‘lighterman’s dinghy’. Avian specimens were shot and a small arsenal of pistols, rifles and shotguns (with 200 or 300 pounds’ weight of gunpowder and shot, and maintenance paraphernalia) were used for personal protection as well as targeting larger specimens, many of which were also eaten. Floral specimens were harvested and placed in a vasculum (portable, lidded metal box) for safe transportation. Many natural history specimens as well as landscapes and people were to be sketched and painted by the two artists who were supplied with paper, oils, pigments, pencils, brushes and other painterly supplies. Achromatic telescopes enabled observations of coastlines and wildlife at a distance, and for close work – examining the collected specimens – dissection implements, hand lenses, watch glasses, and optical instruments. The latter comprised four Ellis aquatic microscopes used both for making observations in marine biology and as dissecting microscopes, while the compound microscope of the Culpeper design by an unknown maker was a gift to Banks from Margaret Bentinck, dowager duchess of Portland. To preserve the collections, botanical specimens were mounted as herbarium sheets in a process that required quires of drying paper, presses and mounting paper; insects were pinned and stored in bespoke cases, shells likewise, while zoological specimens were immersed in spirits either in the vessels mentioned by Ellis or, in the case of larger ones, in kegs and casks. Tents provided sheltered working space ashore, otherwise work on the collected specimens was undertaken aboard at the central table in the great cabin where was stored for reference a ‘fine Library of Natural History’. No catalogue survives, but in 53

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS addition to Dalrymple’s gifts certain other volumes are known to have been taken aboard, including two by Linnaeus: the twelfth edition of Systema Naturae Regnum Animale (1766–67), interleaved and annotated in the hand of Spöring, and an interleaved and annotated second edition of Species Plantarum (1762–63). There was also a mysterious ‘Electrical Machine’, whose research purpose is unknown.20 By the end of July 1768, what the Royal Society had initially conceived solely as an astronomical expedition had been expanded by the government to become a voyage of discovery, and then, with the addition of Banks and his team, been further increased in scope to encompass the study of natural history. Departing Deptford on 30 July, Cook took the Endeavour to Galleon’s Reach near Rotherhithe, where he took on her guns and gunners’ stores and received his final instructions. Among these were his ‘secret orders’, to be opened only after the transit had been observed at Tahiti. On 8 August the Endeavour weighed anchor and reaching Plymouth six days later Cook, as he recorded in his journal ‘Dispatched an express to London for Mr Banks and Dr Solander to join the ship, their Servants and baggage being already on board’. This was received on the 16th, and Solander and Banks departed for the West Country straight away. Banks’s letter of the same day to Pennant revealed his excitement of what lay ahead: Upon considering the plan of this Scheme it immediately occurd to me that it would be a most desirable one for me to Engage in the Whole tract of the South Seas & I may say all South America is Intirely unknown to a Naturalist the South Sea at least has never been visited by any man of Science in any Branch of Literature . . . Upon looking at the Plan of the voyage it might easily be seen that this would not be the Extent of it a Ship in the midst of the South Seas would never attempt to return against the SE Trade she must therefore go forwards & visit the Ladrones [Mariana Islands] some parts of the East Indies & the Cape of Good Hope all places much worth the attention of a Naturalist, this the Least of the plan she may do much more as if you look upon a Chart you may see . . .21 54

HMS ENDEAVOUR THE UNGENTLEMANLY BANKS

Yet in the midst of his exhilaration and hasty departure, Banks had behaved like a cad towards a certain Miss Harriet Blosset. On the evening of the 15th, Horace Bénédict de Saussure, a wealthy young Swiss gentleman with scientific interests, later to gain renown as a geologist and a physicist, recorded in his journal that had met Harriet ‘with Mr Banks, her betrothed . . . and supped together’22 at a dinner also attended by Harriet’s mother, younger and older sisters, and Solander. Julia Henrietta (Harriet) Blosset (d. 1818) was the second daughter and co-heir of Solomon Stephen Blosset (d. 1751) and his wife Elizabeth Dorothy (d. 1796), and was, according to several accounts, a ward of the nurseryman James Lee. Banks must have been daily expecting his sailing orders and Harriet was aware that he was soon to depart. Saussure described in his journal – the entry must have been penned after Banks left London – the emotional overtones at dinner that night: Banks ‘drank freely to hide his feelings’, while Harriet ‘desperately in love with Mr Banks’ but ‘not knowing that he was to start next day, was quite gay’; ‘hitherto a prudent coquette, but now only intent on pleasing her lover, and resolved to spend in the country all the time he is away’.23 The early story of Banks’s involvement with this young lady is based solely on Saussure’s account, which appears to be the only surviving record dating to 1768 that Banks had entered into a formal betrothal with Harriet. Exactly when and where – if – the betrothal took place, exactly why no official announcement was made, nor any reference made to it in any Banks-related correspondence, remain mysteries. Yet there is no reason to suggest Saussure invented the story: subsequent events validate his account. Harriet was eventually to wed the Rev. Henry Jerome de Salis at St Antholin church in the City of London on 17 November 1775. As a Fellow of both the Royal Society and the Society of Antiquities he was likely known to Banks, and, if one is to judge by an portait engraving of him (possibly by William Sharp), bore a striking resemblance to him. However, in the interim between Banks’s arrival back in Britain in July 1771 and that happy event there was salacious gossip, shocked correspondence and satirical pamphleteering concerning Banks’s ungentlemanly behaviour towards his (ex-)fiancée (see below, pp. 141–3). 55

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Banks left London (without bidding an appropriate adieu to Harriet), and together with Solander reached Plymouth on 18 August, where they lodged ashore while shipwrights and joiners completed the final fitting-out and Cook waited for strong westerly gales to abate. Finally, early in the afternoon of 25 August 1768 and with lighter winds veering northerly, a signal jack at the fore summoned them aboard. At two o’clock, in the workmanlike words of Cook’s journal (three o’clock according to Banks’s), HMS Endeavour, ‘set sail and put to sea having on board 94 persons including Officers Seamen Gentlemen and their servants, near 18 months provisions, 10 Carriage guns 12 Swivels with good store of Ammunition and stores of all kinds’.24

II TO TAHITI Joseph Banks himself was less restrained in his first journal entry. As the Endeavour made her way out of Plymouth Sound, with the sound of the water sighing down her sides in his ears and the scent of the sea in his nostrils, months of anxious planning and determined preparation culminated in a perfect moment as Banks captured in his first journal entry of 25 August: ‘We at last got a fair wind; and this day at three o’clock in the evening weighed anchor and set sail, all in excellent health and spirits, perfectly prepared (in mind at least) to undergo with cheerfulness any fatigues or dangers that may occur in our intended voyage.’25 The perfect moment did not last long, however: the next day Banks once again succumbed to sea sickness. Remarkably strong and capacious, flatbottomed with a shallow draught, the Endeavour was the right ship for the task ahead. But her design did not make for a comfortable ride, for she had a propensity to roll and pitch badly, and she was slow through the water, reaching a maximum speed of only only seven or eight knots. Moreover, she was small for a bark. Blainey gives her dimesions at 97 ft 8 in in length (she had no bowsprit), a beam of 29 ft 2 in and a depth of hold 11 ft 4 in;26 and O’Brian comments she had ‘homely lines’: a narrow, square stern with projecting quarters, a deep waist 56

HMS ENDEAVOUR ending rather in a blunt point at the bows without a figurehead or headrails. The great cabin at the stern of the ship, traditionally the exclusive reserve of the captain was small and quite low, and on this voyage Cook was required to share the working space with Banks and his team. Not only that, Cook had to give up some of his precious private living space to a tiny sleeping cabin for Banks – 6 by 6 by 7 feet in size – made forward on the starboard side.27 It is testament to the characters of Banks and Cook that they were able to live together so well for so long in such cramped conditions. Discrepancies between the Endeavour’s muster books in the National Archives, Kew and the voyage journals kept by Cook make establishing the exact number of the ship’s company difficult, but it would appear that leaving Plymouth were eighty-five mariners, thirteen Marines (a corporal, drummer and ten privates under a sergeant) and ten supernumeraries (Banks, his eight-man team and the astronomer, Green). Cook had picked his men carefully, selecting several for their South Seas experience. The master’s mate, Charles Clerke, had sailed with Byron in the Dolphin, as had Second Lieutenant John Gore, who had the most experience of the Pacific and its islands, having completed the second circumnavigation with Wallis. Also veterans of Wallis’s command were the master, Robert Molyneux, and master’s mates Richard Pickersgill and Francis Wilkinson. The senior lieutenant, Zachary Hicks, and the surgeon William Monkhouse (known to Banks from the Niger) were both well experienced, and even the midshipmen were grown youths of several years of service. The exception was Isaac Manley, master’s servant and from 5 February 1771 midshipman. Then a twelve-year-old boy, he would rise to become an admiral of the red. He was promoted nine months prior to his death in 1837, the last of the crew of the Endeavour expedition to pass away. Even the ship’s goat had sailed with Wallis and was accompanied by the ship’s cat and Banks’s two dogs (a greyhound and a bitch called Lady). THE SECOND VOYAGE JOURNAL

The briefest land-oriented chronology of the three-year voyage is as follows: Madeira, 12 to 18 September 1768; Rio de Janeiro, 13 November to 7 December; Tierra del Fuego, 14 to 21 January 1769; Tahiti, 13 April to 13 July (with the 57

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS transit of Venus observed on 3 June); New Zealand, 8 October 1769 to 30 March 1770; New Holland (Australia), 28 April to 21 August; New Guinea, 29 August to 3 September; Savu, 18 to 22 September; Batavia (Java), 9 October to 25 December; Prince’s Island, 4 to 14 January 1771; Cape Town, 14 March to 14 April; Saint Helena, 1 to 4 May; Deal, 12 July. And until October 1770, when the tragic events of the layover in Batavia affected him, and by which time the Endeavour was homeward bound in known waters, Banks resolutely kept his daily journal (Plate 10).28 Any analysis and discussion of the Endeavour voyage must draw heavily on the primary sources of the voyage journals, those of both Banks and Cook as well as the less comprehensive journals kept by other members of the expedition: the master Robert Molyneux, the surgeon William Monkhouse and the artist Sydney Parkinson; also important is A Journal of a Voyage round the World, in His Majesty’s Ship Endeavour, in the Years 1768, 1769, 1770, and 1771, unauthorised and anonymously published three months after the Endeavour’s return, and generally credited to the American-born midshipman James Mario Matra (later Magra, 1746–1806). Scientifically then and historically now, Banks’s record is significant because he wrote the first detailed accounts of the natural history, ethnography and anthropology of places previously unvisited, or rarely visited, by Europeans. But as well as the portrait of the naturalist’s untiring daily work – observing and collecting flora and fauna, describing lands visited, events experienced and peoples encountered together with their cultures, customs, languages and lifestyles – the written word offers an immediacy of presence, of time and spirit of place, and of the character of the author. Banks’s journalistic style is for the most part impersonal yet enthusiastic: scientific, objective and outwardly focused, with content devoted to the subjects of his enquiries that reveals an ever-curious mind. And while Banks’s grammar, spelling and punctuation remain as idiosyncratic as in his Newfoundland journal, it is possible to discern the man himself maturing. However, one aspect of Banks’s record, which without the application of disproportionate speculation and supposition it is only possible to allude to in broadest brushstrokes, are his personal emotions. Of course he had his private, inner thoughts about himself, what he was doing, his feelings towards 58

HMS ENDEAVOUR his companions and ship life in general. But because aboard the journal was not a private document (Cook for example made good use of Banks’s detailed ‘Accounts’ of the people and places for his own journal), and was subsequently to be read by others, Banks (regrettably for the twenty-first century reader) did not expend much ink offering personal reflections. LIFE ABOARD

Unfortunately for Banks the voyage did not get off to a good start. With the ‘wind foul’, Banks was laid low and it was not until 30 August that ‘Now for the first time my Sea sickness left me, and I was sufficiently well to write’. By 4 September, with his sea legs and good spirits regained, Banks began his collecting by fishing with a casting net. When clement weather and Cook’s tolerant permission allowed, the lighterman was launched over the side and Banks rowed about hither and thither collecting marine life and shooting birds. With the voyage in its infancy, Banks and his team were finding their feet, both physically and metaphorically, but as time passed they adapted to life at sea and developed a pattern of work that did not interfere with the routines of an active naval vessel. In the letter to Johan Alströmer describing his recollections of Solander (see above, p. 20), Banks detailed their daily routine: We often disagreed with each other’s opinion of many things; but these disputes ended, as they had started, good humoredly. Generally once the other person’s position was understood, agreement was reached. We had with us a large assortment of books on the natural history of the Indies. Seldom was a storm strong enough to disrupt our usual study time, which lasted approximately from 8 A.M. until 2 P.M. daily. After the cabin had lost the odor of food, from 4 or 5 P.M. until dark, we sat at the great table with the draftsman directly across from us. We showed him how the drawings should be depicted and hurriedly made descriptions of all the natural history objects while they were still fresh. When a long journey from land had exhausted fresh things, we finished each description and added the synonyms to the books we had. These completed accounts were immediately entered 59

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS by a secretary in the books in the form of flora of each of the lands we had visited. Before we arrived home, the florulae of Madeira, Brazil, Tierra del Fuego, the islands of the South Sea, and New Zealand were finished and in the presses . . .29

As the Endeavour sailed southwards off the coast of Portugal, then southwest towards the Portuguese archipelago of Madeira, Banks was clearly excited with the novelty of the endeavour which was taking him into the unknown, but he remained realistic about all possible outcomes when, on 10 September and with a rare demonstration of personal feelings, he poignantly wrote the following words: Today for the first time we dind in Africa [an African latitude: Cook gives the noon position as 35° 20′ North, 13° 28′ West], and took our leave of Europe for heaven alone knows how long, perhaps for Ever; that thought demands a sigh as a tribute due to the memory of freinds left behind and they have it; but two cannot be spard, twold give more pain to the sigher, than pleasure to those sighd for. Tis Enough that they are rememberd, they would not wish to be too much thought of by one so long to be seperated from them and left alone to the Mercy of winds and waves . . . MADEIRA TO RIO DE JANEIRO

Two days later, at ‘ten tonight’, the Endeavour came to anchor at Funchal in Madeira. For the next five days Banks and Solander were the welcome house guests of the British consul, Mr Cheap, who ‘receivd [them] with uncommon marks of civility’ and assisted and facilitated their natural history investigations. On this, their first collecting foray ashore, their tally was in excess of 200 arthropods, and Banks’s ‘Plants of Madeira’ lists 329 plant taxa collected30. This interpolation in his journal is significant as the first florula of Madeira, and is notable for the inclusion of taxa that had been introduced to the island. The haul could have been bigger had it not been for a frustrating day’s collecting lost waiting to receive the governor. But Banks was able to extract some revenge by 60

HMS ENDEAVOUR means of ‘an Electrical machine which we had on board’ and it was with an impish pleasure Banks recounts in his journal entry for 13 September how his unsuspecting-Excellency wishing a demonstration was ‘shockd . . . full as much as he chose’. Leaving Funchal on the evening of 18 September, Cook took the Endeavour south, catching sight of the rocky outcrop called the Dry Salvages on the 21st and two days later a distant view of Tenerife. Off the Canaries they picked up the northeast trade wind which helped propel the Endeavour at the good (for her) speed of 7 knots, and on 26 September the Tropic of Cancer (latitude 23° North) was crossed. Three days later the first of many sharks was caught, a young specimen of what was probably a great white (Carcharodon carcharias).31 The four attached remora ‘were preserved in spirit’, but part of the fish was ‘stewd for dinner, and very good meat he was, at least in the opinion of Dr Solander and myself, tho some of the Seamen did not seem to be fond of him, probably from some prejudice founded on the species sometimes feeding on human flesh’. Early on the morning of 30 September the island of Boa Vista (one of the Cape Verde Islands) was sighted, but no landing made. October brought humidity with the weather vacillating between electrical storms, squalls and periods of calm, during which Banks ventured out his little boat, collecting his first ‘Portugese man of war’ jellyfish on the 7th. Banks recorded it scientifically but not inured to the loveliness of nature called it ‘one of the most beatifull sights I had ever seen’. Another of nature’s wonders that enraptured Banks was a display of bioluminescence witnessed on a night later in the month. At about 33° West and ‘about 8 O’Clock’ on the morning of 25 October, the Endeavour crossed into Neptune’s southern realm. The entire muster, including the ship’s animals, was interrogated to discover which were seasoned Shellbacks and which Slimy Pollywogs who had not previously crossed the line. The latter company, which included Banks and Cook, were baptised by means of a ritual and somewhat brutal-sounding ducking in the sea, or by payment of a fine. Banks took the easy option and gave the ‘Duckers a certain quantity of Brandy’ as a fine for excusing himself, his team and his dogs from the immersion. By now the Endeavour was most of the way across the Atlantic, and needing to revictual 61

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Cook ‘determined to put into Rio de Janeiro in preference to any other port in Brazil or Falkland Islands, for at this place I knew we could recruit our Stock of Provisions . . . and from the reception former Ships had met with here I doubted not but we should be well received . . .’ At day break on 8 November land was sighted which proved to be ‘the Continent of S. America in Lat. 21.16’, and four hours later Banks and Solander boarded a local fishing ship and for 19s 6d purchased the ‘cheif part of their cargo’ which both provided specimens for study and once examined ‘servd the whole ships company’. RIO DE JANEIRO

Sugarloaf Mountain (Pào de Açúcar) at the entrance to Rio harbour came into view at noon on 12th and the next morning, approaching slowly in calm conditions, Cook took the Endeavour in, anchoring just above the Ilha das Cobras. The hoped-for welcome was not forthcoming. The Portuguese viceroy, Antônio Rolim de Moura, conde de Agambuja, provided victuals, but suspicious that the not very naval-looking Endeavour was in fact involved in smuggling or spying, put a guard on the ship and limited the crew’s movements. Throughout the Endeavour’s visit Cook and Banks repeatedly petitioned the viceroy by means of ‘memorials’ to request freedom of movement, but in return they received only prevaricating, obstructive answers. In clear view of the ship, rising up behind the city was the rich and mysterious Atlantic Forest, just waiting to be explored and botanised, but a vexed and frustrated Banks was forced to kick his heels aboard. In a letter full of exasperation written on 1 December to Lord Morton, the president of the Royal Society, Banks expressed his initial anticipation and subsequent disappointment: On the 13th of this Month we arrivd here having saild up the river with a very light breeze and amusd ourselves observing the shore on each side coverd with Palm trees a production which neither Dr Solander or myself had before seen and from which as well as every thing else which we saw promis’d ourselves the highest satisfaction . . . Your lordship can more easily 62

HMS ENDEAVOUR imagine our situation than I can describe it all that we so ardently wishd to examine was in our sight we could almost but not quite touch them never before had I an adequate Idea of Tantalus’s punishment but I have sufferd it with all possible aggravations three weeks have I staid aboard the ship regardless of every inconvenience of her being heeld down &c. &c. which on any other occasion would have been no small hardships but small evils are totaly swallowd up in the Larger bodily pain bears no comparison to pure in short the torments of the damnd must be very severe indeed as doubtless my present ones Cannot nearly Equal them.32

Cook used the visit to make repairs: to the water casks, the rigging, and in cleaning and recaulking the ship’ sides. The latter required the ship be given a heel – tilting the vessel around its longitudinal axis – and the sloping decks must have made the enforced living aboard even more uncomfortable and irritating. The situation worsened still further on 19 November with the distressing loss of the ship’s long boat and Banks’s own craft (both came loose from their moorings but were later recovered undamaged) together with (unconnected) reports of the detention and physical misuse of a boat’s crew which had been sent ashore with memorials for the Viceroy. The next day Banks decided to defy the viceroy and on the 22nd and 24th he managed to get his servants ashore under the pretence of gathering food for the ship; they ‘brought off many plants and insects’. The next day Solander managed a town visit, ‘as surgeon of the Ship, to visit a friar who had desird that the surgeon might be sent to him’. And on the 26th Banks himself covertly slipped ashore ‘before day break and stayd till dark night’. During this all-too-brief but busy peregrination he purchased ‘a porker midlingly fat for 11 shill, a muscovy duck something under two shils’ from friendly locals, and of the Atlantic Forest confirmed that it ‘abounded with vast variety of Plants and animals, mostly such as have not been describd by our naturalists’ because, as he surmised, no-one had studied its natural history since Georg Marcgrave in the 1630s. Banks was entranced, enjoying with ‘particular pleasure’ the ‘renealmias’ (likely the ball mosses Tillandsia recurvata and T. usneoides) and other bromeliads, but lamenting that he did not see a single ‘epidendron’ or orchid in flower. Banks 63

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS recorded butterflies, crabs on the shore and clearly was not overly concerned at being observed, for he went armed and shot birds including a specimen of the striking, scarlet-plumaged Brazilian tanager (Ramphocelus bresilius). Indeed, he had not gone unnoticed and next day it was reported to the ship ‘that people were sent out in search of some of our people who were ashore without leave’, which Banks took to mean himself. Sensibly he made no further attempts at illicit landings; consequently the entries for the last three days of November reveal his mounting frustration and desire to leave: ‘These three days nothing material hapned, Every thing went on as usual only we if possible increasd our haste to be gone from this place.’ By now thoroughly fed up with the rude treatment meted out by the Portuguese authorities, Banks acidly commented on 2 December that ‘This Morn thank god we have got all we want from these illiterate impolite gentry so we got up our anchor and saild to the point of Ilhoa dos cobras, where we were to lay and wait for a fair wind’. (Sadly, as they did so, the seaman Peter Flower fell overboard and drowned; his place was taken by a swiftly recruited Portuguese sailor.) However, exasperations continued, with the Endeavour’s departure now delayed by adverse winds compounded by the indignity of being charged an exorbitant £7 4s for an unwanted and unnecessary pilot to take the ship out of harbour. The hold-up did have one boon though, the arrival on 2 December of a Spanish ‘pacquet’ ship in which Cook and Banks sent packets of letters back to London. On 5 December Cook intended to finally leave Rio, only to be thwarted once again, this time by two canon rounds fired at the ship from the fortress of Santa Cruz da Barra (Banks however was more interested in the thousands of butterflies, all of the same type, which surrounded the ship for the second day in a row). With the misunderstanding cleared up by the viceroy, Cook discovered yet another impediment to departure. The anchor had stuck fast on a rock and it was not until early on 7 December that the whole crew could breathe a collective sigh of relief, as the pilot disembarked and the Endeavour sailed away. Albeit with a brief stop at an island in front of the bay that yielded Banks two plants, probably salsilla (Bomarea edulis) and amaryllis (Hippeastrum spp.). By late afternoon 64

HMS ENDEAVOUR Sugar Loaf Mountain was slowly disappearing in their wake, and now that the ship had ‘intirely got rid of these troublesome people’ Banks set down the first of what would become a regular feature of his journal, a detailed summary and analysis of the people and place just left. Given the frustrations experienced it is remarkably unprejudiced: Banks described the town of Rio de Janeiro, the peoples and government, housing and trade, and fruits produced (while he had enjoyed the oranges he was disparaging of the melons and pineapples available, comparing them unfavourably to those he had sampled in England). Of the flora, his pocket-book record for his day’s exploration revealed that Banks collected 245 botanical specimens (including Bougainvillea spectabilis), and the interpolation in his journal – Plantae Brasilienses – lists a total of 296 taxa for the whole visit. SAILING SOUTH

The next important waypoint was Tierra del Fuego. The passage south took thirty-five days during which the weather was a mixture of fair and foul, with the temperature becoming markedly colder. While Cook had the crew ‘bending the new set of sails for Cape Horn’ on 22 December, Banks took to his boat and shot various species of petrel and enjoyed the sight of a pod of long-finned pilot whales (Globicephala melas) near the Endeavour. The next day he shot his first wandering albatross (Diomedea exulans) which when measured had a wingspan of 9 feet 1 inch, and captured a ‘turtle testudo caretta’ – probably Kemp’s ridley sea turtle (Lepidochelys kempii). Of their first Christmas Day away from home Banks cheerfully recounted that ‘all good Christians that is to say all hands get abominably drunk so that at night there was scarce a sober man in the ship, wind thank god very moderate or the lord knows what would have become of us’. Five days later and because so many types of insects were flying around the ship the crew was convinced that land was no more than 20 leagues (60 nautical miles) distant. Small shoals of lobster krill were seen from the ship on 2 January 1769, and on the 6th the weather became sharp and cold. Cook issued each of the crew a pair of ‘Trowsers’ and a ‘Fearnouks cheerght Jacket’ that Banks called 65

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS ‘Magellan Jackets (made of a thick woolen stuff )’ while he himself donned ‘flannel Jacket and waistcoat and thick trousers’. Throughout the voyage Banks was to request Cook visit certain places or make certain stops where he wished to collect. On the whole Cook was remarkably accommodating, but there were occasions when he could not or would not meet Banks’s requests. The first of these moments came with Banks’s desire to visit the Falkland Islands, a stop which, with the ship now revictualled, Cook had no need to make. Banks disingenuously noted in his journal only that Cook had ‘missed’ the islands33, but the captain’s (albeit infrequent) refusals to oblige the young gentlemen clearly rankled. A hint of residual resentment is clear as late as 1803, some twentyeight years after the Endeavour had returned. Writing to Matthew Flinders (1774– 1814), who had recently completed the first circumnavigation of Australia in HMS Investigator, Banks expressed his gratitude for all the assistance given to the expedition botanist, Robert Brown (1773–1858), and pointedly noted his wish that Cook had been as helpful to him. But in compensation on this occasion, on 7 January Banks was treated to his first sights of a penguin, probably the Magellanic penguin (Spheniscus magellanicus), and of a South American fur seal (Arctocephalus australis). TIERRA DEL FUEGO

Now followed two days of storms, the first serious weather so far encountered, in which the Endeavour demonstrated her ‘excellence in laying too remarkably well, shipping scarce any water tho it blew at times vastly strong; the seamen in general say that they never knew a ship lay too so well as this does, so lively and at the same time so easy’. Then, two fair days later, Tierra del Fuego was sighted at eight o’clock in the morning on 11 January: ‘We could see trees distinctly through our glasses and observe several smokes made probably by the natives as a signal to us.’ Cook resolved to find a harbour from which to explore this strange land, but onshore winds forced him to stand off, a pattern repeated the next day when attempting to pass through the Le Maire Strait. A storm on the 13th prevented passage through, as did wind and current the next day. But when on 14 January Cook at last ‘stood into a bay just without Cape St Vincent’ on the eastern tip of Argentinian Tierra del Fuego – which Cook named Vincent Bay, 66

HMS ENDEAVOUR now Bahía Thetis – Banks and Solander ‘went ashore in the boat and found many plants, about 100, tho we were not ashore above 4 hours; of these I may say every one was new and intirely different from what either of us had before seen’. The discoveries included ‘a Kind of Birch Betula antarctica’ (Antarctic beech, Nothofagus antarctica) and ‘cranberries both white and red, Arbutus rigida’(the popular garden ornamental Gaultheria mucronata). One small tree with laurellike dark-green leaves Banks did recognise: ‘winters bark’ (Drimys winteri). Named for the Captain John Winter who had sailed with Sir Francis Drake and discovered it in the Straits of Magellan in 1578, its leaves were widely used as an antiscorbutic. The next day, the Endeavour anchored in the Bay of Good Success (Darwin would be the next naturalist to explore here in December 1832) where ‘Several Indians were in sight near the Shore’. Going ashore, Banks had his first encounter with an indigenous people living their traditional lifestyle (Plate 11): Before we had walkd 100 yards many Indians made their appearance on the other side of the bay, at the End of a sandy beach which makes the bottom of the bay, but on seeing our numbers to be ten or twelve they retreated. Dr Solander and myself then walkd forward 100 yards before the rest and two of the Indians advanc’d also and set themselves down about 50 yards from their companions. As soon as we came up they rose and each of them threw a stick he had in his hand away from him and us, a token no doubt of peace, they then walkd briskly towards the other party and wavd to us to follow, which we did and were receivd with many uncouth signs of freindship. We distributed among them a number of Beads and ribbands which we had brought ashore for that purpose at which they seem’d mightily pleasd, so much so that when we embarkd again aboard our boat three of them came with us and went aboard the ship. Of these one seemd to be a Preist or conjuror or at least we thought him to be one by the noises he made, possibly exorcising every part of the ship he came into, for when any thing new caught his attention he shouted as loud as he could for some minutes without directing his speech either to us or to any one of his countreymen. 67

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS They eat bread and beef which we gave them tho not heartily but carried the largest part away with them, they would not drink either wine or spirits but returnd the glass, tho not before they had put it to their mouths and tasted a drop; we conducted them through the greatest part of the ship and they lookd at every thing without any marks of extrordinary admiration, unless the noise which our conjurer did not fail to repeat at every new thing he saw might be reckond as such. After having been aboard about 2 hours they expressd a desire of going ashore and a boat was orderd to carry them. I went with them and landed them among their countreymen, but I can not say that I observd either the one party curious to ask questions or the other to relate what they had seen or what usage they had met with, so after having stayd ashore about ½ an hour I returnd to the ship and the Indians immediately marchd off from the shore.

With no shared language communication was perforce limited, but this was a peaceful encounter with each party finding the other interesting and intriguing. These indigenous Ona tribespeople were unfazed by the Europeans, and Banks does his visitors the curtesy of not being surprised at the offhand manner with which they treated their alien surroundings and the indifference shown by the rest of the tribe when they were returned ashore. By the same token his record of this encounter does not reveal any particular interest in them either, although he did subsequently pen a detailed and historically significant description of a group of these now sadly extinct people and their village, which he visited on 20 January. The lack of surprise on this first encounter was probably because the Ona here, in the same way as the second group Banks met, were acquainted with Europeans. Something that Banks noticed and noted was ‘the knowledge they had of the use of our guns which they very soon shewd, making signs to me to shoot a seal’. On the sunny, warm morning of 16 January, Banks, accompanied by Solander, the astronomer Green, the ship’s surgeon Monkhouse, two seamen and his team set out on a day’s collecting trip inland, his aim ‘to try to penetrate as far as we 68

HMS ENDEAVOUR could into the country, and, if possible, gain the tops of the hills, which alone were not overgrown with trees’. What transpired, however, was an unplanned two-day expedition that ended in tragedy. Initially the weather was pleasant ‘much like a sunshiny day in May’, and as the twelve-strong team hiked up through woods and pathless thickets of southern beeches (Nothofagus spp.), the absence of pestilential insects impressed on Banks’s mind a pleasant contrast to his experiences in Newfoundland. However, when the tree line was reached the party discovered that what from the ship appeared to be a plain was in fact a milewide bog of waist-high scrubby and stunted Nothofagus. Progress forward was slow and difficult, and the group had struggled about two thirds across when all of a sudden the artist Alexander Buchan was seized with an epileptic fit. A fire was lit and the weariest of the group remained behind to care for him while Banks, Green, Monkhouse and Solander pushed on to an ‘alp’ of rocky dry land where Banks found his hoped-for alpine plants. By now the weather had deteriorated badly, the balmy sunshine replaced by a biting cold wind and flurries of snow. Deciding it was impossible now to retrace their footsteps back to the ship before dark, Banks led the team back across the scrub to sit out the snowstorm in the relative shelter of the trees, there to build a wigwam and a fire. With the temperature dropping lower still Banks was bringing up the rear of the party when half way across Solander and Thomas Richmond succumbed to the cold; Solander ‘said he could not go any farther, but must lie down, though the ground was covered with snow, and down he lay, notwithstanding all I could say to the contrary’, upon which Richmond also lay down. With the somewhat recovered Buchan catching up, Banks sent him forward together with four of the team, with orders to make a fire as soon as was possible while he and the remaining men cajoled the two chilled men to their feet. Near the end of the scrub Richmond collapsed again, declaring he could not go further even if it meant dying where he lay, while Solander said he must sleep. During the fifteen minutes he did so, news came that a fire had been lit ahead, but, unable to rouse Richmond, Banks left two of the team with him (Cook’s journal entry for 17 January indicates these were George Dorlton and a sailor), promising to send relief to them as soon as he and Solander reached the blaze. Banks made good his 69

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS word, and sent back a rescue party, but unfortunately after half an hour of fruitless searching the men returned having received no answer to their calls. The reason for their lack of response seems to have been that the seaman had the expedition’s bottle of rum in his knapsack, and ‘the two who were left in health had drank immoderately of it and had slept like the other’. By now it was growing dark and had been snowing hard for two hours, and Banks had lost hope of seeing the three missing men alive, but at about midnight the sailor was heard shouting. Banks and four others went into the blizzard to retrieve him, with the rest of the team looking for the other two. Richmond was discovered ‘upon his leggs but not able to walk’, and Dorlton lying on the ground ‘as insensible as a stone’. A frustrating half-hour was spent failing to kindle a fire, and unable to get the men to move Banks made a calculated decision not to risk the whole group. He had his two stricken servants laid ‘upon a bed of boughs and covering them over with boughs also as thick as we were able, and thus we left them hopeless of ever seeing them again alive which indeed we never did’. To add to his concerns, on the way back to the camp Peter Briscoe ‘became very ill but got there at last almost dead with cold’. The situation looked bleak in the cold light of dawn: two men were dead, two more were seriously ill, and a fifth was at risk of another epileptic seizure. Snow squalls were still blowing and the team had no provisions bar a vulture shot the day before. This was divided into ten equal portions and each man cooked his own part ‘which furnishd about 3 mouthfulls of hot meat’. Then, at ten o’clock, as sun began to warm their chilled bones and melt the snow, the hungry and bedraggled band began their three-hour hike back to the beach and the ship. Safely arrived, all went to warm bunks except Banks, who, according to Molyneux’s journal, once his collection of alpine plants was safely stored, went out in a boat and trawled (unsuccessfully) with a ‘Sane’. This tragic episode reveals that Banks was unaware of – and unprepared for – the notoriously fickle and potentially chill summer weather of Tierra del Fuego. Perhaps lulled into a false sense of security by the lovely start to the day, and not planning to camp out overnight (Cook’s journal for 17 January noted the ‘very cold weather’ and his ‘great uneasiness’ at the non-return of the group ‘as they were not prepared for Staying out the Night’), the team was ill-dressed, ill70

HMS ENDEAVOUR equipped and, as Banks acknowledged, ill-provisioned for the fierce summer snowstorm they experienced. The cold brought on hypothermia, the condition exacerbated in those who drank the rum – probably in the (as it transpired lethal) misbelief that it would ‘warm’ them. Yet, the incident demonstrates Banks’s ability to maintain a cool head in a crisis and to manage a situation which necessitated making tough decisions that were literally a matter of life and death. Throughout 18 January it ‘blow’d very strong from the South-South-West and South-West, attended with Snow, Hail and Rain, and brought such a Sea into the Bay, which rose the Surf to such a Height that no Boat could land’. The rollers prevented a landing the next day too, but by the 20th the seas had calmed and taking his last opportunity of a visit ashore before the Endeavour departed Banks spent the morning collecting shells. After dinner – served aboard at noon – he ‘went into the Countrey about two miles to see an Indian town’. As part of his longer description of the visit (part of his journal entry for 20 January) an excited Banks waxed lyrical about the botany – the interpolation in his journal, the ‘Plants of Tierra del Fuego’, lists 147 taxa – including cryptogams – collected: Of Plants here are many species and those truly the most extrordinary I can imagine, in stature and appearance they agree a good deal with the Européan ones only in general are less specious, white flowers being much more common among them than any other colours. But to speak of them botanicaly, probably No botanist has ever enjoyd more pleasure in the contemplation of his Favourite pursuit than Dr Solander and myself among these plants; we have not yet examind many of them, but what we have have turnd out in general so intirely different from any before describd that we are never tird with wondering at the infinite variety of Creation, and admiring the infinite care with which providence has multiplied his productions suiting them no doubt to the various climates for which they were designd. INTO THE PACIFIC

The Endeavour sailed from the Bay of Good Success on 21 January, passing what Cook concluded was Cape Horn on the 25th. For the rest of the month she 71

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS tracked southwest, reaching her most southerly latitude of the voyage at 60° 4ʹ South on 30 January, before the same day turning northwest. Anyone who has experienced these waters will recognise Cook’s weather reports for the end of January and most of February, an inconsistent mix of ‘Gales with some rain’; ‘Sharp cold air’; ‘fresh Gales and Squally with some Rain’; ‘Middle, little wind with Hail and Rain’; ‘fresh Gales and thick Hazey weather, with small rain’; ‘fresh gales with flying Showers’; ‘strong Gales with heavy Squalls and showers of rain’; and even ‘sometimes Calm and clear’. During these welcome intermissions Banks ventured out in his little boat, rowing around the ship shooting birds – many of which added variety to the onboard diet once scientifically recorded. On 5 February, having felt unwell the past four days, Banks was laid low with a ‘bilious attack’, but by the next day had recovered sufficiently to add albatross to the list of unusual culinary delights sampled in the course of the voyage. Describing it as very good, he offered this advice on how to best dress the bird: ‘Skin them over night and soak their carcases in Salt water till morn, then parboil them and throw away the water, then stew them well with very little water and when sufficiently tender serve them up with Savoury sauce.’ The last week of February found the Endeavour far out in the eastern Pacific between 45° and 40° South, some 1,600 nautical miles west of the Chilean coast. On the morning of 24 February Banks woke to discover ‘the ship going at the rate of 7 knotts, no very usual thing with Mrs Endeavour’, as he affectionately called this sturdy, reliable but not so quick matron of the seas. Now, at last, the weather began to change for the better, becoming ‘soft and comfortable like the spring in England’, and Banks ‘began the new month by pulling off an under waistcoat’. Two days later he engaged in the slaughter of sixty-nine seabirds, including four species of petrel and an immature wandering albatross which had been feeding on a large, recently dead cuttlefish. This was also collected, but beyond identification Banks popped the cephalopod into the cooking pot, puckishly noting, ‘only this I know that of him was made one of the best soups I ever eat’. As well as enjoying novel cuisine, Banks indulged in a spot of smug reflection borne of experience. In his journal entry for 20 March he rhetorically wondered why the Endeavour had not encountered the fabled balancing Southern 72

HMS ENDEAVOUR Continent, noting: ‘It is however some pleasure to be able to disprove that which does not exist but in the opinions of Theoretical writers . . . tho they had little or nothing to support that opinion but vague reports.’ Enjoying fine weather – mostly calm seas, light winds, warm temperatures and humid conditions interspersed with the occasional squall and heavy shower – Cook took the Endeavour northwest into ever more equatorial latitudes, crossing the Tropic of Capricorn at 23° South on 23/24 March (according to the nautical day of Cook’s journal, Banks however makes no reference to the event). On the 25th, the balmy atmosphere was soured by the suicide of the twenty-oneyear-old marine William Greenslade. Accused of the theft of a piece of seal skin, a trifling event that its owner was not going to pursue, but which the other Marines considered a discredit to their company and which the sergeant was to bring before Cook, Greenslade, on pretence of going to the heads at the prow of the ship, threw himself overboard. The event was recorded by Cook as regrettable in a routine journal entry; Banks, on the other hand, seems to have been more affected by the unnecessary death, commenting that what made the young man’s death ‘the more melancholy’ was that he drove himself ‘to the rash resolution by an accident so trifling that it must appear incredible to every body who is not well accquainted with the powerfull effects that shame can work upon young minds’. On the last day of March Banks was ill – ‘a little inflammation in my throat and swelling of the glands’ – and, once recovered, he elaborated on his symptoms, adding that his ‘gums swelld and some small pimples rose in the inside of my mouth which threatned to become ulcers’. Self-diagnosing the early stages of scurvy, he ‘took up the lemon Juice put up by Dr. Hulmes direction’ which he had brought as part of his extra victuals. In fact he had three casks of the stuff, sent to him from Hulme ‘by orders of Dr Fothergill’: cask number one contained ‘six gallons of Lemon-juice evaporated down to less than two gallons’, number two ‘seven gallons of Orange-juice and one gallon of Brandy’ (which upon opening was discovered to have fermented), and number three ‘five Quarts of Lemon-juice and one of Brandy’. Given that Banks made himself a weak punch it would suggest that he tapped cask number three. However, it is perhaps unlikely that Banks had been afflicted by scurvy, because he noted in his entry for 73

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS 9 April he had been eating salted (‘cured’) cabbage daily since leaving ‘Cape Horne’ adding that until this vegetable had been opened (which he ‘preferd as a pleasant substitute’) he had regularly consumed the ‘Sower crout’ provided by the Admiralty and by means of which Cook kept his crew mostly free of scurvy.

III TAHITI AT LAST Land! The atoll of Vahitahi was spotted by Peter Briscoe on the morning of 4 April 1769 and that evening Akiaki too was observed in the distance. Both times islanders could be seen on the foreshore, but in neither instance was a landing attempted. These were the first in a succession of picturesque atolls and islands seen but not visited over the coming days as the Endeavour passed through the Tuamotu Archipelago (now part of French Polynesia), in a just north of west direction, towards her destination of Tahiti in the Society Islands. At five o’clock in the morning of 13 April, just under twelve weeks since departing the Bay of Good Success, with some 4,000 nautical miles of largely unknown ocean in her wake, and with the weather ‘Clowdy and Squally with Showers of rain’, Cook took the Endeavour into Matavai Bay (also called Port Royal Bay) and ‘at 7 anchored in 13 fathoms’ (Plate 12). Soon the ship was surrounded by canoes paddled by the Ma¯’ohi people, whom Banks was to describe in his summary of ‘Manners & customs of S. Sea Islands’ (it appears after his journal entry for 14 August , see below, p. 96) as ‘of the larger size of Europaeans’ (one man he measured stood at ‘6 feet 3½’) and ‘excellently made . . . some handsome both men and women’. Both sexes had good teeth, complexions of ‘infinite smoothness’, ‘rather coarse’ black hair which the women – who Banks admired for their eyes ‘full of expression and fire’– kept cut short around their ears, while the men sometimes grew long and sported beards ‘in many different fashions’. Their personal hygiene was fastidious: both sexes, wrote Banks, ‘eradicate every hair from under their armpits and they look upon it as a great mark of uncleanliness in us that we did not do the same.’ The islanders seemed peacefully curious at this first encounter and cordial relations were quickly established, Banks noting in his entry for 13 April that the 74

HMS ENDEAVOUR islanders ‘traded very quietly and civily, for beads cheifly, in exchange for which they gave Cocoa nuts Bread fruit both roasted and raw some small fish and apples’. Nonetheless, from the moment of their arrival Cook was determined to develop and maintain a respectful, cordial relationship between the crew and their hosts; and on this first day he issued and subsequently assiduously enforced five rules to obey when trading with the islanders: RULES to be observ’d by every person in or belonging to His Majestys Bark the Endevour, for the better establishing a regular and uniform Trade for Provisions, &ca: with the Inhabitants of Georges Island — 1st To endeavour by every fair means to cultivate a friendship with the Natives and to treat them with all imaginable humanity — 2nd A proper person or persons will be appointed to trade with the Natives for all manner of Provisions, Fruit, and other productions of the earth; and no officer or Seaman or other person belonging to the Ship, excepting such as are so appointed, shall Trade or offer to Trade for any sort of Provisions, Fruit or other Productions of the earth, unless they have my leave so to do — 3rd Every person employ’d a shore on any duty what soever is strictly to attend to the same, and if by neglect he looseth any of his Arms or working tools, or suffers them to be stole, the full Value thereof will be charge’d againest his pay, according to the Custom of the Navy in such cases- and he shall recive such farther punishment as the nature of the offence may deserve — 4th The same penalty will be inflicted upon every person who is found to imbezzle, trade or offer to trade with any of the Ships Stores of what nature so ever unless they 5th No Sort of Iron, or any thing that is made of Iron, or any sort of Cloth or other usefull or necessary articles are to be given in exchange for any thing but provisions—

One of the first visitors to paddle out to the ship was Owhaa (also known as Hau), a sort of sub-chief known to Gore and Molyneux from their visit in the Dolphin. Then he had proven a useful intermediary, a role he played again now. 75

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS With the ship secured an excited Banks went ashore together with Cook and his team to be met by ‘some hundreds of the inhabitants whose faces at least gave evident signs that we were not unwelcome guests’. They approached the new arrivals timidly, proffering ‘a green bough’ (a plantain leaf ) as a sign of peace. With the welcome formalities gently concluded Banks proceeded to walk for 4 or 5 miles ‘under groves of Cocoa nut and bread fruit trees loaded with a protusion of fruit and giving the most gratefull shade I have ever experienced, under these were the habitations of the people most of them without walls: in short the scene we saw was the truest picture of an arcadia of which we were going to be kings that the imagination can form’. The Endeavour was the third European vessel to have visited the island and its people in the previous eighteen months. Wallis’s Dolphin had made the first encounter on 18 June 1767, followed in April 1768 by the French explorer Louis Antoine de Bougainville (1729–1811) in the Boudeuse during the first circumnavigation made by a Frenchman. The Endeavour’s three-month stay at this beautiful tropical island, blessed with a balmy climate, plenty of food and a generally welcoming people, was in many ways an idyllic sojourn for the crew. Yet it simultaneously marked the beginning of the end of the South Sea Islanders’ traditional ways of life, and the start of large scale European interference and eventual colonisation. Accounts published upon the Endeavour’s return – not least the lascivious titivations derived from the descriptions of the Society Islanders’ openness towards sexual relationships – stimulated great interest, and in the following decade European exploration and eventual colonisation of the South Seas was conducted in earnest – led in no small part by Cook on his second (1772–75) and third (1776–80) voyages, and by Banks in distant London who, with his evidence to the Bunbury Committee in 1779, successfully advocated for the establishment of a penal colony at Botany Bay on the recently claimed east coast of New South Wales. TAHITI: NEW FRIENDS, CULTURAL DIFFERENCES AND TRAGEDY

Early contact with the islanders continued to be cordial, and on 14 April two chiefs and their entourage approached the Endeavour in canoes. Until their Tahitian names were learned, the first was nicknamed Lycurgus (he was in fact Tubourai) and the 76

HMS ENDEAVOUR second Hercules (he was Tootahah, in other accounts also spelt Dootahah). Invited aboard, the pair extended an honour to Banks and Cook in the form of an official welcome by making ‘friends’ with them. In this context the word for ‘friend’ – taio – was ‘used to signify an attachment formal as well as warm – almost a “bloodbrother” though without the ceremony of blood’.34 As part of the formal ceremony, the chiefs ‘took off a large part of their cloaths and each dress’d his freind with them he took off: in return for this we presented them with each a hatchet and some beads’. Cook in his journal entry for 14 April also recounted with amused annoyance that it was difficult ‘to keep them from Stealing but everything that came within their reach; in this they are Prodigious Expert’. On this occasion Solander and Monkhouse had their pockets picked of a spy glass and snuffbox respectively: in the long term it was theft that was to prove to be the greatest source of friction between the two peoples. With the formalities over, Cook and Banks were invited ashore by the chiefs to ‘a long house where they gave us to understand that they livd’ and where the pair participated in a second welcome ceremony at which gifts were again exchanged: perfumed cloth and poultry were received, in return for which Banks gave ‘a large lacd silk neckcloth I had on and a linnen pocket handkercheif, these he [the chief] immediately put on him and seemd to be much pleasd with’. It was in this settlement of several large houses, explored freely by Banks, that he first encountered the open, relaxed and welcoming attitude of the women, who shewd us all kind of civilities our situation could admit of, but as there were no places of retirement, the houses being intirely without walls, we had not an opportunity of putting their politeness to every test that maybe some of us would not have faild to have done had circumstances been more favourable; indeed we had no reason to doubt any part of their politeness, as by their frequently pointing to the matts on the ground and sometimes by force seating themselves and us upon them they plainly shewd that they were much less jealous of observation than we were.

Taking their leave, perhaps somewhat regretfully, the shore party continued a mile farther along the beach to a second settlement and yet another ceremony. 77

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS This time Cook and Banks were offered ‘the green bough which was always brough[t] to us at every fresh meeting and to ratifie the peace of which that was the emblem by laying our hands on our breasts and saying Taio’. A meal of fish, breadfruit and plantain was served, during which Tubourai’s wife Tomio accorded Banks the honour of squatting on the mats close to him. However Banks confessed in an unusually candid journal entry not only to rudely ignoring his hostess but also to possessing a roving eye: he had espied among the common croud a very pretty girl with a fire in her eyes that I had not before seen in the countrey. Unconscious of the dignity of my companion I beckond to the other who after some intreatys came and sat on the other side of me: I was then desirous of getting rid of my former companion so I ceas’d to attend to her and loaded my pretty girl with beads and every present I could think pleasing to her: the other shewd much disgust but did not quit her place and continued to supply me with fish and cocoa nut milk.

So ended an exhilarating first day, with Banks’s journal entry – much of which is quoted above – revealing his interested excitement in the Ma¯’ohi people and their island home. Unfortunately, the problem of larceny raised its ugly head again the following day, when it was the cause of the only casualty inflicted by the British. On 15 April Cook commenced to ‘throw up a small fort for our defence’ and within it erect the temporary observatory. The site chosen for ‘Fort Venus’ was close to the end of Point Venus at the northeast tip of Matavai Bay, and by the ‘watering place’ on the bank of the Vaipopoo River. Under the interested yet peaceful gaze of ‘some hundreds of the natives who shewd a deference and respect to us which much amazd me’, Banks used the butt of his musket to mark out the perimeter boundary some 30 yards wide by 55 long. With one of his small tents erected inside, and under the guard of midshipman Jonathan Monkhouse and the twelve Marines, a couple of hours later Banks and Cook accompanied by Owhaa walked into the woods to ‘see if today we might not find more hoggs &c.’ At one point during their two-hour hike, according to Cook, ‘We had but just 78

HMS ENDEAVOUR crossed the River when Mr. Banks shott three Ducks at one shott, which surprised them [the islanders] so much that most of them fell down as though they had been shott likewise.’ Nearing his tent upon their return, Banks heard musket shots and hurried forward to discover ‘that an Indian had snatchd a sentrys musquet from him unawares and run off; the midshipman (may be) imprudently orderd the marines to fire, they did fire into the thickest of the flying croud some hundreds in number several shot, and pursueing the man who stole the musquet killd him dead’. Of this incident the Tahitians considered that the casualty had brought about his own fate through his foolish actions. Nevertheless and understandably, the Europeans were perceived as a source of uncommonly useful (iron) tools and desirable treasures, and, as Banks noted in his journal entry for 25 April, all the islanders were ‘firmly of opinion that if they can once get possession of any thing it immediately becomes their own’. Not surpring therefore that given the opportunity theft took place, but from the British perspective such desired goods were to be exchanged in trade and over time the constant theft soured relations and caused resentment and tension on both sides. That said, Tahitian houses were open and theft among them a rare thing. Only two days after the unfortunate Ma¯’ohi musket-thief was shot, a second tragedy struck, when at two o’clock in the morning of 17 April the ‘landskip draftsman’ Alexander Buchan died. He had suffered an ‘epileptick’ fit two days previously, which Cook noted had brought on another long term illness ‘a disorder in his Bowels’. Banks sincerely regretted the death of this ‘ingenious and good young man’ but also mourned the lost opportunity of an artistic account of the island and its people. Cook also recorded Banks’s tact and understanding of cultural sensitivities regarding Buchan’s funeral arrangements: ‘Mr. Banks thought it not so advisable to Inter the Body ashore in a place where we were utter strangers to the Custom of the Natives on such occasions; it was therefore sent out to sea and committed to that Element with all the decency the Circumstance of the place would admit of.’ With his three tents erected within the guarded fort perimeter – a large bell tent, 15 feet in diameter, flanked on each side by a marquee 20 feet long and 15 79

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS feet wide – Banks passed his first night ashore on 18 April. For the fortnight or so it took to construct Fort Venus and during the month before the observation of the transit Banks actively pursued his natural history studies, exploring the island both along the coast and in the various company of Green and Solander, ‘in hopes of finding something worth observation’. In spite of the idyllic setting, fieldwork brought its own challenges. Heavy rains and bad weather interfered with field studies, while the examination and processing of the collected specimens (conducted in the tents) was interrupted by the inquisitive – and acquisitive – islanders. But worst of all were the plagues of flies, insidious insects, which Banks recorded with amazed annoyance on 22 April, ate ‘the painters colours off the paper as fast as they can be laid on’ and against which nothing prevailed. Not a mosquito net set over the table, chair, painter and drawings, nor an ad hoc and ingenious fly trap – a mixture of tar and molasses. This gooey mess did however offer a humorous incident when an amused Banks observed one of the islanders apply ‘this clammy liniament’ to a large sore upon his backside – ‘but with what success I never took the pains to enquire’. In what was the first extensive botanical study in Tahiti, Banks and Solander collected and described some 308 plant taxa, including the orchids Liparis cespitosa and Oberonia equitans, and the flowering plant Ophiorrhiza solandri. From the collections Parkinson made some 113 coloured botanical illustrations (Plate 16), as well as the topographical and ethnographical sketches in pen and wash that would have been the job of the unfortunate Buchan. Additionally, and for the Society Islands as a whole, there were some 160 taxa of fish described and numbered in series, complemented with an indeterminate range of birds and various invertebrates, molluscs and arthropods – doubtless too some of the species of troublesome flies. THE DIPLOMAT BANKS

To ensure a peaceful, productive sojourn it was imperative that good relations were established and cultivated with the Ma¯’ohi people; and here the affable Banks came into his element. His job description had not included the role of 80

HMS ENDEAVOUR negotiator and cultural bridge-builder, but with his flair for communicating equitably and honourably he proved himself a natural. Wisely, he invested considerable time and effort developing trust, mutual understanding and a principled relationship with the chiefs Tubourai and Tootahah. No doubt it helped that he quickly learned something of the Ma¯’ohi language, acquiring a vocabulary of more than 750 ordinary words and phrases. Given the local name ‘Tapane.’ (Cook was ‘Toole.’ and Solander ‘Torano’), Banks was the de facto fulcrum of communication between the two peoples. An example of how well he managed difficult situations came in the aftermath of an odious incident on 27 April, when the ship’s butcher ‘either threatned or atempted to cut’ the throat of Tubourai’s wife Tomio ‘with a reaphook’. It was to Banks that an angry Tubourai, ‘with fire in his eyes’, reported the incident, and it was Banks who calmed down the agitated husband and promised punishment. Cook subsequently flogged the butcher with the islanders present to witness. Similarly, when the luckless Tubourai suffered nicotine poisoning as a result of eating a plug of tobacco given to him by one of the crew, it was to Banks that a worried Tomio came for assistance. Banks dosed him with coconut milk and all was well. Banks’s genuinely interested yet disciplined relationship with the Ma¯’ohi people was pivotal to the generally good atmosphere between the islanders and their visitors, and the success of Cook’s mission. This is not to say however that Banks was a soft touch. When he considered it necessary and appropriate, particularly in the context of stealing, he was quite the disciplinarian, as an incident involving the theft of an instrument essential to the observation demonstrated. With the fort completed on 30 April, the instruments were brought ashore by Cook the following afternoon and placed under guard in his sleeping area inside the fort. The next morning, however, it was discovered that the astronomical quadrant was missing. An initial search failed to find it, and so Banks determined to retrieve it. Accompanied by Tubourai, Green and a midshipman he set out, running and walking through the forest, across rivers and past villages in pursuit of the thieves. It then occurred to him that he was leading a very small team armed only with a ‘pair of pocket pistols’ into a potentially hostile environment, in which ‘the Indians might not be quite so 81

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS submissive [as near Fort Venus] going also to take from them a prize for which they had venturd their lives’. Sensibly, he sent back the midshipman to Cook, requesting an armed party be sent forward, and he and the other two men continued on. At the end of an exhausting 7-mile chase, with the mercury at 91 °F and in the presence of a number of hundreds of islanders, Banks found the thieves and persuaded them to peacefully return the quadrant (almost complete). That he did so in complete safety demonstrated his self-confidence, diplomatic skills and the reciprocal respect that he had established with the Ma¯’ohi people. This happy conclusion contrasts with the different outcome from the authoritarian punishment implemented by Cook upon hearing of the theft. He ordered that no canoes be allowed to leave the bay, and, overzealous in implementing the order, Lieutenant Gore dispatched the bosun to bring back various canoes that were moving along the shore. One of these carried the chief Tootahah, who was likely handled without ceremony and detained: although he was quickly released the damage was done. His arrest had been ‘to the infinite dissatisfaction of all the Indians’, and the chief was never again so openly friendly. For a time he ceased selling hogs, a pointed retaliation because trading provisions was essential to keep the ship’s company fed. Indeed, it was Banks and Solander who were the ‘market men’ in charge of bartering for provisions. The men of the Endeavour ate what the islanders ate, and the range of produce was both nutritious and flavoursome. The islanders quickly established prices for hogs, breadfruit (Plate 13) and coconuts (the company consumed between 300 and 400 of the latter daily) in terms of iron goods: hatchets, iron nails larger than 40 pennies, and white cut-glass beads. Within five days of the Endeavour’s arrival rates had been established, Banks noting on 18 April that ‘a bead about as large as a pea’ would purchase ‘4 or 6 breadfruits and a like number of Cocoa nutts’, while Cook noted that ‘a Pig 10 or 12 pounds weight’ would not be exchanged ‘for anything under a Hatchet’. Other vegetables consumed included plantain (Musa spp.), umara or sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas), taro (Colocasia esculenta), and yams – uhi (Dioscorea alata) and patara (D. pentaphylla). Fruits included banana (Musa spp.), rose apple (Syzygium jambos), raw sugarcane and vi (Spondias dulcis): ‘a fruit not unlike an apple which 82

HMS ENDEAVOUR when ripe is very pleasant’ . Banks supplemented their diet further by shooting the common duck of the island (Pacific black duck, Anas superciliosa). However, there was surprisingly little record of fish being eaten – it was very popular with the islanders but was hard to catch, and never in sufficient quantity to meet local demand. THE ETHNOGRAPHER BANKS

Banks’s account of the Ma¯’ohi and Tahiti are an important historical record, significant because they are the first detailed anthropological account of the people, their culture and identity, and of a place and landscape just prior to the significant change wrought by European exposure. Intellectually, Banks seems to have had little time for Rousseau’s notion of the Noble Savage, and possessed a level of religious scepticism: he rejected fundamental Christian values for a more Enlightenment view that dismantled many of the conventions regulating relations between the sexes. Thus while Banks’s first-hand observations were generally analytical and free of prejudiced preconceptions, today’s reader must nevertheless be mindful that what is presented is one upper-class British male’s view of intercultural encounters and interactions with a remote island culture. As such, certain of Banks’s accounts will strike today’s reader as culturally insensitive, even crass. One example in particular has drawn much justified criticism: Banks’s suggestion made in his journal entry for 12 July that he keep one of the highly repected islanders, Tupaia (see below, p. 92), ‘as a curiosity, as well as some of my neighbours do lions and tygers at a larger expence than he will probably ever put me to’. In no way can such inappropriate and immoral comment be justified. The writings of Banks, Cook and later European visitors to the Pacific Islands and New Zealand established and reinforced a stereotypical and generally negative view of the indigenous peoples and their cultures. Thankfully, though, in recent decades a long overdue re-evaluation has been taking place with much scholarly focus on the socio-culture and anthropology of the indigenous Pacific Islands peoples, as well as the outcomes of early crosscultural encounters. This is not the place for an in-depth analysis of these and other related topics but the interested reader is recommended the insightful 83

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS works of, amongst others, Professor Dame Anne Salmond and Professor Nicholas Thomas. A selection of their publications is listed in the Bibliography. Moreover, Banks’s daily log could be less than 100 words, and of course he did not write down everything that happened. No doubt the impact and behaviour of the all-male crew, who had no easy means of communicating, was at times overwhelming to the small island community on which they had descended, and particularly to the women. Cook was required to discipline various sailors on several occasions, and although not recorded – Banks rarely makes mention of the crew and their activities in his journal – it is likely that unwanted advances were forced on certain Ma¯’ohi women. Regretfully we do not have a contemporary Ma¯’ohi record and interpretation of events. Importantly, though, Banks deliberately immersed himself in Ma¯’ohi culture, and his ethnographic and anthropological studies and observations were in good measure experiential; and although the observer-effect argument could be raised, it appears that Banks’s integration, his willingness to become actively involved in local cultural events, ceremonies and rituals, not only endeared him to his hosts but also yielded far more information about customs, traditions, lifestyle and amusements than had he been sitting on the sidelines as a mere observer. The following examples demonstrate the variety of activities Banks sought out, and the clarity with which he recorded them. He attended two musical recitals. The first took place on 22 April, when ‘4 people performd upon flutes which they sounded with one nostril while they stopd the other with their thumbs, to these 4 more sang keeping very good time but during ½ an hour which we stayd with them they playd only one tune consisting of not more than 5 or 6 notes’. At the second on 12 June, the poet-musician performers were ‘2 flutes and three drums, the drummers acompanying their musick with their voices’. He was a spectator at a wrestling match on 5 May, and a week later he was honoured at an unusual ceremony, an elaborate form of taurua or formal gifting of cloth.35 During the proceedings he was formally presented by young men with plantain (a phallic symbol), and offered the cloth by young women, the foremost of whom ‘stepd upon [the laid-out pieces of cloth] and quickly unveiling all her charms gave me a most convenient opportunity of admiring them by turning herself gradualy round’. 84

HMS ENDEAVOUR On 29 May Banks witnessed a form of proto-surfing from the beach, unprotected by the fringing reef and thus exposed to a large surf. Using the stern of an old canoe which they pushed before them the islanders swam out as far as the outermost breach, then one or two would get into it and opposing the blunt end to the breaking wave were hurried in with incredible swiftness. Sometimes they were carried almost ashore but generaly the wave broke over them before they were half way, in which case the[y] divd and quickly rose on the other side with the canoe in their hands, which was towd out again and the same method repeated. We stood admiring this very wonderfull scene for full half an hour . . .

Walking in the woods on 6 June he discovered an iron adze and clothing and was given an oral account of a visit to the islands by ‘Spanish ships’ (these transpired to be French Bougainville expedition); and on the 10th ‘smutted from head to foot’ he participated in the heiva no metua. This funerary ceremony of mourning was being conducted for an important woman whose body had been ceremonially laid out to be rotted above ground, ‘as is the custom of the Island’. And on 5 July Banks witnessed the ‘operation of Tattowing the buttocks performd upon a girl of about 12 years old, it provd as I have always suspected a most painfull one’. Banks did not take part (Parkinson, on the other hand, did) but he did introduce the word ‘tattoo’ to the English language. TAHITIAN SEXUAL MISUNDERSTANDINGS

For all his intercultural successes, Banks did not become fully conversant with Ma¯’ohi societal nuances – not unexpectedly, with such little time and such a limited vocabulary. But this does expose him to accusations of misinterpretation and judgement about a culture he did not fully comprehend. This is palpably clear, for example, in his assessment of the ‘free love’ and infanticide practised by the members of the arioi. Banks did not come to understand the socio-cultural function of and roles performed by this secret religio-cult order, and as such his account is selective, superficial and full 85

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of errors. This is from his analysis included within his ‘Manners & customs of S. Sea Islands’ (see below, p. 96): One amusement more I must mention tho I confess I hardly dare touch upon it as it is founded upon a custom so devilish, inhuman, and contrary to the first principles of human nature that tho the natives have repeatedly told it to me, far from concealing it rather looking upon it as a branch of freedom upon which they valued themselves, I can hardly bring myself to beleive it much less expect that any body Else shall. It is this that more than half of the better sort of the inhabitants of the Island have like Gomus in Milton enterd into a resolution of enjoying free liberty in love without a possibility of being troubled or disturbd by its consequences; these mix together with the utmost freedom seldom cohabiting together more than one or two days by which means they have fewer children than they would otherwise have, but those who are so unfortunate as to be thus begot are smotherd at the moment of their birth.

Likewise his overstated generalisation that ‘Chastity indeed is but little valued especialy among the midling people; if a wife is found guilty of a breach of it her only punishment is a beating from her husband’. In his own account, Cook followed his 13 July entry with the sentence: ‘The Men will very readily offer the Young Women to Strangers, even their own Daughters, and think it very strange if you refuse them; but this is done merely for the sake of gain.’ Sexual liaisons undoubtedly occurred between Ma¯’ohi women and the men of the Endeavour; James Mario Matra wrote that ‘the women of Otahitee have agreeable features, are well proportioned, sprightly, and lascivious; neither do they esteem continence as a virtue, since almost every one of our crew procured temporary wives among them, who were easily retained during our stay . . .36’ And Banks was more than willing to take advantage of such opportunities, although he and other journal-keepers were circumspect in terms of the levels of personal detail penned concerning intimate encounters. Though less so, as we 86

HMS ENDEAVOUR have seen, when describing the islanders’ sexual proclivities. Of course, the journals were not intended to be works of pornographic titivation, but the official publication of the voyage by John Hawksworth (1773), who drew primarily on the journals of Banks and Cook, caused something of a sensation with its inclusion of various explicit descriptions of perceived promiscuity. These included Banks’s ‘Manners & customs’ description of the timorodee dance – performed by ‘young girls whenever they can collect 8 or 10 together, singing most indecent words using most indecent actions and setting their mouths askew in a most extrordinary manner, in the practise of which they are brought up from their earlyest childhood . . .’ – and in particular Cook’s account of public ritualistic sexual intercourse, notable by its absence from Banks’s own journal. Banks based his operations at the fort and it would be unlikely that he was not aware of the ritual. He likely witnessed it. It took place on the evening of Sunday 14 May, perhaps a reciprocation for the divine service earlier conducted in the day by Cook, and attended by ‘several of the Natives’ who had behaved ‘with great decency the whole time’. The day closed with an odd sceen at the Gate of the Fort, where a young Fellow above 6 feet high made love to a little Girl about 10 or 12 years of Age publickly before several of our people and a number of the Natives. What makes me mention this is because it appear’d to be done according to Custom, for there were several women present, particularly Obariea and several others of the better sort, and these were so far from showing the least disapprobation that they instructed the Girl how she should Act her part, who, young as she was, did not seem to want it. ’QUEEN’ PUREA

The accounts of the islander’s sexual mores brought back by Captain Samuel Wallis and the Dolphin had cast the female Ma¯’ohi as predatory, permissive, indecent and morally lax. An incorrect and clichéd stereotype of which ‘Queen Obariea’ was the embodiment. ‘Obariea’, Wallis’s and Banks’s Purea, was not in fact the queen of Tahiti, she and her husband Oamo were the great chiefs of one 87

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of the island’s three regions, although they had recently been defeated by their enemies from the southeastern part of the island. On 28 April she and her chief counsellor Tupaia (also known as Tupia, c. 1725–70) were being entertained ashore by Banks, who was unaware of her exalted status until the ship’s master, Robert Molyneux, who had been aboard the Dolphin, entered the tent and the two made their reacquaintance. Banks’s attention was ‘intirely diverted . . . to the examination of a personage we had heard so much spoken of in Europe: she appeard to be about 40, tall and very lusty, her skin white and her eyes full of meaning, she might have been hansome when young but now few or no traces of it were left’. Over the coming weeks the pair became firm friends, but in spite of the crude gossip and innuendo aimed at Banks upon the Endeavour’s return it is unlikely that he and Purea were lovers. Certainly he made no mention of such a liaison when in 1773, two years after his return and while in the Netherlands, Banks composed a letter at the request of Count Bentinck, ‘who desird something of the kind to amuse the Princess of Orange’ entitled ‘Thoughts on the manners of [the women of] Otaheite’. For a start, it seems that Banks’s eyes had fallen elsewhere. On 12 May he confided to his journal that he was relieved that evening to be visited by Purea’s ‘favourite attendant Othéothéa’ (Tiatia), whom he had been led to believe was either ill or dead – and whom he calls ‘my flame’. While Banks admitted to spending the night with Purea in her canoe on 28 May (an outdoor sleeping arrangement that was common practice if no other accommodation was available), and Cook somewhat pointedly noted that she insisted ‘upon Sleeping in Mr. Banks’s Tent all Night’ on 20 June, the arrangement appears to have been platonic, a guest staying with a friend. In fact, Banks makes it clear he turned down Purea’s sexual advances on 21 May when she openly invited him to replace her ‘gentleman attendant’ Obadee as her lover. He declined, adding: ‘I am at present otherwise engag’d; indeed was I free as air her majesties person is not the most desireable.’ A month later and according to an incident in Parkinson’s journal (but notably absent from both Banks’s and Cook’s), Banks was still involved with Tiatia, but an event on the night of 19 June led to a heated argument with the surgeon 88

HMS ENDEAVOUR Monkhouse. Two women who had attached themselves to Monkhouse and one of the lieutenants went into Banks’s tent desiring to ‘lie’ there. Thereupon Monkhouse physically removed one and the others (Banks in his journal stated that his ‘Marque was full of Indians’) followed; although the weeping Tiatia did not leave until Banks removed her. Parkinson stated that ‘Mr. Monkhouse and Mr. Banks came to an eclaircissement some time after; had very high words, and I expected they would have decided it by a duel, which, however, they prudently avoided’37. The cause of the argument was not revealed and must remain a subject of conjecture beyond the supposition that it presumably concerned a woman, and perhaps Tiatia herself. And just as it is arguable that the Europeans’ understanding of the sexual component of the Ma¯’ohi culture was very limited and consequently misrepresented, so too is it possible that the sexual largesse shown towards the men of the Endeavour, and witnessed (and received) by Banks, was not customary behaviour; rather it came from sections of society with a relaxed attitude towards sexual encounters, where ‘virtue’ was considered ‘cheap’, and for whom it would have been no big price to pay in exchange for items made of that extraordinary material, iron – the prime currency used in exchange for such favours. TRANSIT OBSERVED AND OBJECTIVE MET

The transit of Venus was to take place on Saturday 3 June, and Cook, following Lord Morton’s advice that twin observation locations would be an advisable insurance against cloud cover, dispatched the longboat on the evening of 1 June to the motu or islet of Irioa, inside the reefed lagoon at the northwestern point of another island, Imáo (now Moorea), itself just northwest of Tahiti. The team comprised Lieutenant Gore and the surgeon Monkhouse, who were to make the observation, together with Banks and Spöring accompanied by Tubourai and Tomio. On the morning of the 3rd and sporting ‘a turban of Indian cloth which I wore instead of a hat’, Banks went for provisions to the main island. Here he was entertained by the chief Ta’aroa and his sister Nuna, with whom he exchanged gifts, ‘an adze a shirt and some beads’ for various provisions including another culinary adventure, a dog raised specifically to be cooked and eaten. A fortnight later on 20 June he described how ‘fat dog’, which the islanders ‘esteemd 89

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS more delicate food than Pork’, was dressed, adding that a ‘most excellent dish he made’. Back on the motu, Banks spent the afternoon botanising: he judged the island to be less fertile than Tahiti, but nevertheless discovered a new plant which he called ‘Iberis’ and Gore ‘scurvy grass’ (Lepidium bidentatum). And with the transit observed, the busy day concluded just after sunset when ‘3 hansome girls came off in a canoe to see us, they had been at the tent in the morning with Tarroa, they chatted with us very freely and with very little perswasion agreed to send away their carriage and sleep in [the] tent, a proof of confidence which I have not before met with upon so short an acquaintance’. The next day and ‘in spite of the intreaties of our fair companions who persuaded us much to stay’ the party returned to Tahiti to discover with ‘great satisfaction’ that observations made by Cook and Green ‘had been attended with as much success as Mr Green and the Captn could wish, the day having been perfectly clear not so much as a cloud interveining’. Or as Cook recorded in his journal: This day prov’d as favourable to our purpose as we could wish, not a Clowd was to be seen the Whole day and the Air was perfectly clear, so that we had every advantage we could desire in Observing the whole of the passage of the Planet Venus over the Suns disk: we very distinctly saw an Atmosphere or dusky shade round the body of the Planet which very much disturbed the times of the contacts particularly the two internal ones . . .

Subsequently however, the Royal Society was to be disappointed in the results collected and Cook’s report: the observers had had trouble with the timing of the stages and their drawings were inconsistent. However, with the expedition’s main objective believed to have been met, Banks passed the remainder of June mostly immersing himself still further in local culture. Unfortunately though discord came in the form of continued theft and Cook’s somewhat heavy-handed – and in the event unsuccessful – attempt to retrieve all the stolen property by seizing canoes. At the end of the month (26 to 30 June), Banks and Cook set out in the pinnace (a light boat propelled by oars or sails and which served as a tender) eastwards with the intent to make ‘the Circuit of the Island in order to 90

HMS ENDEAVOUR Examine and draw a Sketch of the Coast and Harbours thereof ’. The circumnavigation included explorations on foot, identification of where Bougainville had landed and camped, and much new information gleaned about the islands’ geography and Ma¯’ohi history, culture, religion, habits and societal structure. In early July Banks made his last natural history expedition when accompanied by ‘Mr Monkhouse’ (it is not clear if his companion was the surgeon or the midshipman Jonathan Monkhouse) he set out to traverse up the Tuauru Valley down which flowed the Vaipopoo River. Penetrating high into the hinterland, Banks made both an important transect through the island’s flora along with its geology – correctly concluding that it was of volcanic origin. The next day, 4 July, Banks turned his hand to horticulture. Two months previously on 10 May Cook had ‘planted divers seeds . . . all bought of Gordon [a nurseryman] at Mile End and sent in bottles seald up’, his aim being to establish a productive garden from which visiting ships could revictual in the future. Unfortunately, with the exception of the mustard, all the seed had failed; Banks blamed the rosin with which the bottles had been sealed, and he now set out to sow in as many different soil types as he could find and in each direction along the coast and inland from the fort ‘a large quantity of the seeds of Water melons, Oranges, Lemons, limes &c. which I had brought from Rio de Janeiro’. Melon seeds he had already distributed among the islanders, who were cultivating the plant with great success. DESERTION, HOSTAGES AND FAREWELLS

With Cook concluding that he had now garnered all the useful information he could about Tahiti the decision was taken to leave. On 6 July the crew began dismantling Fort Venus, returning the guns to the ship and taking down the fortifications for firewood aboard. Regretfully during this last week before the Endeavour sailed on 13 July, and perhaps because the friendships formed on the island were soon to end, relations became strained. Thefts increased and Banks’s undeniable authority among the Ma¯’ohi came under pressure, in particular on 10 July when, in order to secure the return of two deserters and the 91

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS two crew sent after them, Cook ordered that Purea and other ‘principal people’ be taken hostage ashore within the Fort, with Tubourai and others of his good friends be held aboard the Endeavour, and the pinnace dispatched to hold Tootahah. Later in the evening the deserters returned but news came that the sailors sent after them were now held hostage against the release of Tootahah. With his usual open manner and bravery, Banks spent an uncomfortable last night on land, awaking on the 11th to find a large, armed and potentially threatening crowd outside his tents. Entirely defenceless, Banks ‘made the best I could of it by going out among them. They wer[e] very civil and shewd much fear as they have done of me upon all occasions, probably because I never shewd the least of them but have upon all our quarrels gone immediately into the thickest of them.’ No doubt with relief all round, early that morning the situation was resolved when all those held were released and returned to their own people. On the morning of 12 July Banks’s friend Tupaia came aboard and expressed the desire to go to England. Purea’s chief councillor was a remarkable and intelligent man: aged about forty-five and born on the island of Raiatea, he was an arioi and was described by Banks as a ‘well born, cheif Tahowa [Tahua] or preist’. Trained in the fare-’ai-ra’a-’upu (‘schools of learning’) concerned with the origin of the cosmos, genealogies, the calendar, proverbs and histories, he was also a skilled celestial navigator. Cook, who thought him ‘very intelligent’ gave his assent and Banks agreed to pay the costs of having both Tupaia and his son or servant Tayeto during their time aboard the Endeavour. And inspite of his crass comment about making Tupaia a pet (see above, p. 83), Banks also recognised the man’s values adding in the following sentence that ‘the amusement I shall have in his future conversation [meaning the knowledge Banks would glean] and the benefit he will be of to this ship, as well as what he may be if another should be sent into these seas, will I think fully repay me’. And this indeed was true for the Endeavour, for Cook came to rely on Tupaia to navigate the ship amongst the Winward Islands. Just how skilled a navigator Tupaia was is revealed by recent re-evaluation of what is commonly referred to as Tupaia’s Map, drawn by him in collaboration with various members of the crew between August 1769 and February 1770.38 92

HMS ENDEAVOUR At about ten o’clock the next morning of 13 July, with the weather clear and a gentle breeze blowing, the anchor was raised. From the topmast head Banks and Tupaia ‘stood a long time waving to the Canoes as they went off ’. Of taking leave from his friends Banks poignantly wrote: ‘Some of them at least I realy beleive personaly sorry for our departure.’ COOK’S SECRET ORDERS

For almost a month (15 July to 9 August), with mixed weather and one or two close brushes with disaster among the reefs, Cook explored the Leeward Islands of the Society Islands chain, visiting in order Huahine, Raiatea – where Cook recorded in his journal for 21 July that he ‘hoisted an English jack, and took possession of the Island and those adjacent in the name of His Britannick Majesty, calling them by the same names as the natives do’, Tahaa, Bora Bora and Raiatea again. Throughout, Banks and Solander took every opportunity to make visits ashore in order to gather natural history specimens and make ethnographic observations – in particular of dances and musical performances. With this phase of the expedition complete, the crew now expected to begin their journey home; it thus must have come as a shock when Cook, having opened his instructions from the Admiralty ‘inclosed [in a] Sealed Packet’ signed by First Secretary Philip Stephens, proceeded to inform them otherwise. They were in fact now to voyage into the unknown in search of the fabled Terra Australis Incognita. Cook’s orders, comprehensive and drafted by someone cognisant with the most up-to-date geographical conjecture, were devoted mainly to the Southern Continent but with a back-up plan in case of its non-discovery. Interestingly, too, their lords wished to know much about the natural history of new lands discovered: their soil, flora (including gathered seeds) and fauna, exploitable minerals, and indigenous peoples. Cook would provide summaries of the lands and peoples encountered, drawing heavily upon Banks’s ‘Accounts’. However, all the natural history collections would belong to Banks; perhaps the Admiralty implicitly expected him to provide access to and information about the material. 93

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS The full orders read as follows: Secret By the Commissioners for executing the office of Lord High Admiral of Great Britain & ca. Additional Instructions for Lt James Cook, Appointed to Command His Majesty’s Bark the Endeavour Whereas the making Discoverys of Countries hitherto unknown, and the Attaining a Knowledge of distant Parts which though formerly discover’d have yet been but imperfectly explored, will redound greatly to the Honour of this Nation as a Maritime Power, as well as to the Dignity of the Crown of Great Britain, and may tend greatly to the advancement of the Trade and Navigation thereof; and Whereas there is reason to imagine that a Continent or Land of great extent, may be found to the Southward of the Tract lately made by Captn Wallis in His Majesty’s Ship the Dolphin (of which you will herewith receive a Copy) or of the Tract of any former Navigators in Pursuit of the like kind, You are therefore in Pursuance of His Majesty’s Pleasure hereby requir’d and directed to put to Sea with the Bark you Command so soon as the Observation of the Transit of the Planet Venus shall be finished and observe the following Instructions. You are to proceed to the Southward in order to make discovery of the Continent abovementioned until’ you arrive in the Latitude of 40°, unless you sooner fall in with it. But not having discover’d it or any Evident sign of it in that Run you are to proceed in search of it to the Westward between the Latitude beforementioned and the Latitude of 35° until’ you discover it, or fall in with the Eastern side of the Land discover’d by Tasman and now called New Zeland. If you discover the Continent abovementioned either in your Run to the Southward or to the Westward as above directed, You are to employ yourself diligently in exploring as great an Extent of the Coast as you can carefully observing the true situation thereof both in Latitude and Longitude, the Variation of the Needle; bearings of Head Lands Height direction and Course of the Tides and Currents, Depths and Soundings of the Sea, Shoals, Rocks &ca and also surveying and making Charts, and taking Views of Such 94

HMS ENDEAVOUR Bays, Harbours and Parts of the Coasts as may be useful to Navigation. You are also carefully to observe the Nature of the Soil, and the Products thereof; the Beasts and Fowls that inhabit or frequent it, the Fishes that are to be found in the Rivers or upon the Coast and in what Plenty and in Case you find any Mines, Minerals, or valuable Stones you are to bring home Specimens of each, as also such Specimens of the Seeds of the Trees, Fruits and Grains as you may be able to collect, and Transmit them to our Secretary that We may cause proper Examination and Experiments to be made of them. You are likewise to observe the Genius, Temper, Disposition and Number of the Natives, if there be any and endeavour by all proper means to cultivate a Friendship and Alliance with them, making them presents of such Trifles as they may Value inviting them to Traffick, and Shewing them every kind of Civility and Regard; taking Care however not to suffer yourself to be surprized by them, but to be always upon your guard against any Accidents. You are also with the Consent of the Natives to take Possession of Convenient Situations in the Country in the Name of the King of Great Britain: Or: if you find the Country uninhabited take Possession for his Majesty by setting up Proper Marks and Inscriptions, as first discoverers and possessors. But if you shall fail of discovering the Continent beforemention’d, you will with upon falling in with New Zeland carefully observe the Latitude and Longitude in which that Land is situated and explore as much of the Coast as the Condition of the Bark, the health of her Crew, and the State of your Provisions will admit of having always great Attention to reserve as much of the latter as will enable you to reach some known Port where you may procure a Sufficiency to carry You to England either round the Cape of Good Hope, or Cape Horn as from Circumstances you may judge the Most Eligible way of returning home. You will also observe with accuracy the Situation of such Islands as you may discover in the Course of your Voyage that have not hitherto been discover’d by any Europeans and take Possession for His Majesty and make Surveys and Draughts of such of them as may appear to be of Consequence, without Suffering yourself however to be thereby diverted from the Object 95

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS which you are always to have in View, the Discovery of the Southern Continent so often Mentioned. But for as much as in an undertaking of this nature several Emergencies may Arise not to be foreseen, and therefore not to be particularly to be provided for by Instruction beforehand, you are in all such Cases to proceed, as, upon advice with your Officers you shall judge most advantageous to the Service on which you are employedYou are to send by all proper Conveyance to the Secretary of the Royal Society Copys of the Observations you shall have made of the Transit of Venus; and you are at the same time to send to our Secretary for our information accounts of your Proceedings, and Copys of the Surveys and discoverings you shall have made and upon your Arrival in England you are immediately to repair to this Office in order to lay before us a full account of your Proceedings in the whole Course of your Voyage; taking care before you leave the Vessel to demand from the Officers and Petty Officers the Log Books and Journals they may have Kept, and to seal them up for our inspection and enjoyning them, and the whole Crew, not to divulge where they have been until’ they shall have Permission so to do. Given under our hands the 30 of July 1768.

Thus on 9 August Cook turned the Endeavour south and for the next two days Banks was once again laid low with sea sickness. On the 13th the island of Rurutu was spotted, but a landing was not possible due to an unfriendly welcome from the islanders. With sea-time now on his hands, Banks turned himself to composing his ‘Manners & Customs of S. Sea Islands’. Occupying the last fifty-two pages of the first manuscript volume of Banks’s journal it is a methodical, detail-filled (albeit in places factually inaccurate) account of his observations written with a warmth Banks clearly felt for the islands and their people. A sample of the topics he addresses are: an anthropological description of the Ma¯’ohi peoples, their clothing and textiles (including raw materials and dyes), architecture, canoe construction, sailing and celestial navigation, diet and domestic items, social structure and customs, religion, rituals and festivals, 96

HMS ENDEAVOUR cultural activities including dance, games, music and tattooing, and a English– Tahitian dictionary. The Endeavour had been away from Britain for just shy of a year, and it would be almost two more before she would return. Her crew had enjoyed a pleasant three-month stay as guests of the Ma¯’ohi at Tahiti; the biggest challenges and suffering were still in store. Yet it was to be a voyage that would make history, and indirectly play a large part in the evolution of the British Empire.

IV NEW ZEALAND For the next seventeen days the Endeavour sailed south in open oceans, the weather a mix of a heavy southeasterly swell and fresh breezes; a waterspout was observed on 24 August. Banks recommenced his ornithological observations and on the 25th held a small, rather touching celebration that he had clearly planned before the Endeavour left England. Marking the first anniversary of the voyage, ‘a peice of Cheshire cheese was taken from a locker where it had been reservd for this occasion and a cask of Porter tappd which provd excellently good, so that we livd like English men and drank the hea[l]ths of our freinds in England’. The seas became heavier and the wind fresher until the latitude 40° 12′ South was reached on 1 September. With no sighting of the Southern Continent and as per his orders Cook now made an anticlockwise turn to the east and then north before heading northwest away from the Roaring Forties. The position 29° 1′ South was arrived at on 19 September, when for the first time since leaving Tahiti Banks ventured out in his little boat collecting bird and marine specimens. On the 23rd Banks, at Surgeon Monkhouse’s prescription, dosed Solander with ‘Dr Hulme’s Essence of Lemon Juice’ and ate a tasty ‘pye’ made from ‘North American apples’ given to him before sailing by the noted botanist and physician Dr John Fothergill (1712–80). Now Cook turned southwest, reaching 38° 59′ South on 28 September – having effectively sailed two sides of a triangle – from where the Endeavour followed a staggered course generally west. Banks was out in his little 97

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS boat again on 2 and 3 October with dipping net and guns, the excitement of which brought on a flight of fancy: Now do I wish that our freinds in England could by the assistance of some magical spying glass take a peep at our situation: Dr Solander setts at the Cabbin table describing, myself at my Bureau Journalizing, between us hangs a large bunch of sea weed, upon the table lays the wood and barnacles; they would see that notwisthstanding our different occupations our lips move very often, and without being conjurors might guess that we were talking about what we should see upon the land which there is now no doubt we shall see very soon.

Today it is possible to visit a replica of the Endeavour (the HM Bark Endeavour Replica was launched in 1993), either at her home base at the Australian National Maritime Museum, Sydney, or elsewhere when she is sailing around the world. To do so is to gain a sense of just how small and cramped she is, of how it must have been to live and work aboard her, and how accommodating everyone must have had to be towards one other. Nowhere more so than in the small, inappropriately named great cabin which Cook had been ordered to share with Banks. Despite their very different characters (Cook disciplined, punctilious and stern; Banks cheerful, impulsive and occasionally irascible), backgrounds (rural poverty and rural wealth) and the almost fifteen-year age difference, both Banks and Cook were industrious, astute and authoritative. Certainly there were differences enough between them, but there arose no discontent nor friction, no bitterness nor discord that in later years marred the relationship between Captain George Vancouver and Banks’s plant hunter Archibald Menzies (see pp. 201–3). Indeed, there can be no doubt that their working relationship in those spheres where their endeavours overlapped was mutually amicable and respectful. Banks held a somewhat inflated opinion of his knowledge of nautical matters, but whether it was sharing the great cabin, facilitating Banks’s boating exploits or negotiations and interactions with indigenous peoples ashore, the two men worked as an effective team. This says much about the level of tolerance, 98

HMS ENDEAVOUR forbearance and congeniality of both men, who came to be genuinely fond of one another and developed a warm personal friendship. The Endeavour was a happy ship, too, and Cook is due full credit for running a tight yet generally content company. Sailors were renowned for being rough folk, and while Cook had to carry out his fair share of punishment floggings for misdemeanours including drunkenness and theft (especially at Tahiti where, as we have seen, iron nails were used as currency for sexual favours), the officers and men were in spite of this genuinely fond of their captain and followed him between ships. But perhaps too, albeit inadvertently, Banks and Solander contributed to this positive atmosphere. Generally cheerful, easy-going and even-tempered, they ensured that Cook did not become annoyed, exasperated or infuriated with ‘the gentlemen’, and therefore had no frustrations or anger to vent on his officers and crew. Indeed, among their shipmates ‘the gentlemen’ were much liked. NEW ZEALAND

Land! The anticipated New Zealand (or what in 1642 its discoverer Abel Tasman, thinking it was part of South America, had called ‘Staten Landt’) was sighted at last by Nicholas Young early in the afternoon of 6 October. From the masthead at sunset Banks himself gazed at what he and ‘all hands’ were certain was ‘the Continent we are in search of ’. But Banks at least should have known better: he was travelling with a copy of Dalrymple’s Chart of the South Pacifick Ocean, Pointing out the Discoveries made therein Previous to 1764, which clearly shows a part of the east coast of New Zealand at the same latitude (albeit with a slightly more westerly longitude position of the sighted land). The Endeavour sailed closer through the 7th, and on the evening of 8 October Banks first set foot on what transpired to be New Zealand’s North Island. The place, known to the indigenous Ma¯ori as Te Oneroa, was named Poverty Bay by Cook, ‘because it afforded us no one thing we wanted’. It disappointed Banks too, who bemoaned the fact that he had collected ‘not above 40 species of plants’. In fact, according to an unpublished checklist-index39 to Solander’s similarly unpublished Primitiae Florae Novae Zelandiae (1770)40, the actual tally of taxa collected between 8 and 11 October was sixty-one species 99

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS in fifty-three genera, and included many now familiar trees and shrubs: karaka (Corynocarpus laevigatus), a type of koromiko (Hebe salicifolia or H. stricta), ngaio (Myoporum laetum), New Zealand flax (Phormium tenax) and kowhai (Sophora tetraptera).41 Here too, as well as at various of the subsequent anchorages, large quantities of two edible coastal herbs: Cook’s scurvy grass (Lepidium oleraceum) and sea celery (Apium prostratum) were gathered and consumed by the crew – a practice that helped protect against scurvy. For the next twenty-five weeks until 31 March 1770 Cook circumnavigated New Zealand in a roughly figure-of-eight pattern, heading south from Poverty Bay as far as Cape Turnagain before back-tracking north and rounding the North Island in an anticlockwise direction (with a detour north), before passing through what was named – likely by Banks – Cook Strait (thus establishing that the land mass was in fact two islands); then heading north again until Cape Turnagain was spotted, before turning south and rounding the South Island clockwise to Queen Charlotte Sound in Cook Strait. In terms of the entire duration of the voyage the longest stay in one place was Tahiti, but New Zealand was where the most amount of time was passed, the majority of it at sea making a running survey of the coastline. Consequently, Banks’s land based explorations were geographically spread out, coastal only in extent and made during eight anchorages which ranged in duration from three to twenty-three days. In chronological order: Poverty Bay (8 to 11 October 1769), Anaura Bay (20 to 22 October), Watering Place, Tolaga Bay (23 to 29 October), Mercury Bay (3 to 14 November), Firth of Thames (19 to 22 November), Bay of Islands (29 November to 5 December), Queen Charlotte Sound (15 January to 6 February 1770) and Low Neck Bay (26 to 31 March). THE MĀORI

Banks’s detailed record of the Ma¯ori peoples and New Zealand’s natural history is significant for the same reasons as are his observations of the Ma¯’ohi and Tahiti, and subsequently the Australian Aboriginal peoples on the east coast of Australia. However this record differed in one notable respect: at Tahiti, Banks was ashore and immersed within the generally peaceful and welcoming Ma¯’ohi culture, which enabled the development of relationships and a cumulative, running 100

HMS ENDEAVOUR narrative of a group of people in one place. In New Zealand, however, Banks’s accounts are ‘snapshots’ taken in different locations and of different tribal and familial groups, many of whom were (at least initially) hostile and combative – both to one another and to the men of the Endeavour. Nevertheless, he clearly admired the fierce, warlike Ma¯ori, making candid descriptions of the encounters (fair and foul) with war canoes and peoples ashore; the Ma¯ori as a people themselves, their weaponry, dance, habitation, crafts, health, diet and culinary procedures; their horticultural practices and clothing, folklore, religion, burial customs and arts – and their cannibalism – all with level-headed honesty and his usual thirst for detail and knowledge. Moreover, Banks made a concerted effort to establish cordial relationships when encounters were made. In so doing Banks (and Cook) relied heavily on Tupaia acting as interpreter – the Ma¯’ohi and Ma¯ori languages were sufficiently similar to allow communication – and as a sort of cultural guide. There survives a delightful painting made by Tupaia, who during his time aboard the Endeavour learned to paint European-style, depicting a Ma¯ori man and a European – generally taken to be Banks – exchanging a crayfish for a piece of white tapa cloth. This is an important depiction of attempts at relation-building between the Europeans and the Ma¯ori, which were facilitated in big part by Tupaia. Encounters, though, did not get off to a good start. During the first landing at Poverty Bay on 8 October, while the landing party attempted to converse with one group of Ma¯ori nearby what turned out to be a pa¯ (a fortified village), four other warriors armed with ‘long lances’ attacked the sailors guarding the small boat used to make the landing. The boat and the men were rescued by the crew of the pinnace, who opened fire, killing the ‘chief ’, whom Banks described as ‘a middle sizd man tattowd in the face on one cheek only in spiral lines very regularly formd; he was coverd with a fine cloth of a manufacture totaly new to us, it was tied on exactly as represented in Mr Dalrymples book; his hair was also tied in a knot on the top of his head but no feather stuck in it; his complexion brown but not very dark’. The next day the situation deteriorated further when the landing party, this time backed up by Marines, came ashore and, with Tupaia translating, attempted to negotiate with about fifty Ma¯ori. The latter tried repeatedly to snatch items from the Europeans, and when one took the astronomer Green’s ‘hanger’ (a type 101

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of sabre) Banks ‘pronouncd aloud as my opinion’ that to assure ‘our safeties that so daring an act should be instantly punishd’. With Cook in agreement, Banks fired his own musket which he had loaded with small shot, ‘leveling it between his shoulders who was not 15 yards from me. On the shot striking him he ceasd his cry but instead of quitting his prize continued to wave it over his head retreating as gently as before; the surgeon who was nearer him, seeing this fird a ball at him at which he dropd.’ The two parties now retreated, with the five men from the Endeavour returning to their boats, intending another landing on the farther shore of the bay. They had nearly reached it when two canoes were encountered (Plate 15). Cook wrote that he ‘came so near [to the Ma¯ori canoe] before they took notice of us that Tupaia called to them to come alongside and we would not hurt them; but instead of doing this they endeavour’d to get away, upon which I order’d a Musquet to be fir’d over their Heads, thinking this would either make them surrender, or jump overboard’. They did neither but instead, as Banks recorded, ‘began with stones, paddles &c to make so brisk a resistance that we were obliged to fire into her by which 4 [of the seven occupants] were killd’. Thus, within less than twenty-four hours of the Endeavour being at New Zealand the death toll among its people the Ma¯ori was five times what it had been for the three months spent among the Ma¯’ohi at Tahiti. Banks was to advocate a policy of using a non-lethal display of the Endeavour’s firepower as a deterrent against attack by war canoe, opining on 11 October: ‘I am well convincd of, that till these warlike people have severly felt our superiority in the art of war they will never behave to us in a freindly manner.’ Moreover, he was absolutely ready to defend himself and his companions with lethal force if necessary, but he was also a compassionate man with a strong moral conscience. As has been noted in the cases of his artist Alexander Buchan and marine William Greenslade, Banks was deeply saddened by what he perceived to be the unnecessary loss of life. In this instance, at Poverty Bay, he solemnly concluded his journal entry on 9 October: ‘Thus ended the most disagreable day My life has yet seen, black be the mark for it and heaven send that such may never return to embitter future reflection.’ The coming months were to prove Banks correct in his assessment of 11 October. The sight of the Endeavour off the coast was frequently met with a 102

HMS ENDEAVOUR martial response from the tribal groups, and three days later the encounter on the morning 14 October was typical of many, when five canoes pulld towards the ship in a body as if resolvd to attack her, 4 more were coming after them from the shore. This manoevre was not to be disregarded: the canoes were large, we judgd that they could not contain less than 150 people, every one armd with a sharp pike of hard wood and their little hand instrument calld patoopatoo; were they to attempt any thing daring there could not fail to be a dreadfull slaughter among such a croud of naked men were we nesscesitated to fire among them; it was therefore though[t] proper to fire a gun over their heads as the effect of that would probably prevent any designs they might have formd from being put into execution. They were by this time within 100 yards of the ship singing their war song and threatning with their pikes; the gun was levelld a little before their first boat and had the desird effect, for no sooner had they seen the grape which scatterd very far upon the water than they paddled away in great haste. We all calld out that we were freinds if they would only lay down their arms. They did so and returnd to the ship; one boat came close under the quarter and taking off his Jacket offerd it to sale, but before any body had time to bid for it she dropd astern as did the rest, refusing to come to the ship again because they were afraid that we should kill them, so easily were these warriors convincd of our superiority.

Usually a demonstration of firepower in combination with reassuring words from Tupaia prevented conflict, and as Ma¯ori aggression quietened violence generally gave way to trading and interaction. But not always. On October 15 Tupaia’s companion Tayeto was standing in the Endeavour’s chains (a small platform that extended out from the hull to provide a wide purchase for the shrouds – the pieces of standing rigging which hold the mast up from side to side – and from where depth soundings were taken) receiving traded fish from a canoe when he was dragged into the craft, which paddled off. Ordered to fire, the Marines killed one man and in the confusion Tayeto dived over the side and was rescued. Cook named the headland here Cape Kidnappers. 103

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Where initial encounters were peaceful it was because news of the Endeavour had preceded her. This was the case when, heading north again from Cape Turnagain on the 18th, a canoe with five men approached and two chiefs came aboard in friendship. Banks was especially impressed by one of them, whose countenance ‘was the most open I have ever seen, I was prejudicd much in their favour and surely such confidence could not be found in the breasts of designing people. They expressd great curiosity and surprize, attending to any thing that was shewn to them and thankfully accepted the presents which were made.’ In fact both slept the night aboard, even though they were told that they would awake far away. ANAURA BAY AND BAY OF PLENTY

A couple of days later on the morning of 20th, several ‘very peaceably inclind’ canoes invited the Endeavour into Anaura Bay (Tigadu) and indicated where fresh water could be had. Once at anchor two older chiefs came aboard, one dressed in a ‘Jacket ornamented after their manner with dogs skin’, the other in one ‘coverd almost intirely with small tufts of red feathers’. This was a kahukura, a very special garment on which the crimson feathers from the underwing of the kaka parrot (Nestor meridionalis) were woven into a base of New Zealand flax (Phormium tenax). That evening Banks went ashore and was ‘receivd with great freindship’ and the next day he and Solander experienced a Ma¯ori village under peaceful circumstances for the first time. Banks was impressed by both the residents’ openness in allowing him to observe their customs, and by the vegetable plantations. Here grew taro (Colocasia antiquorum), yam or uwhi (Dioscorea villosa), sweet potato or kumara (Ipomoea batatas) and bottle gourd or hue (Lagenaria siceraria). Banks had encountered the first three crops (albeit different species of taro and yam) on Tahiti, where – as here – they had been introduced with the Polynesian migration. Two additional plants also brought to New Zealand by the Ma¯ori migration were the paper mulberry tree (Broussonetia papyrifera), and the Pacific cabbage tree or ti pore (Cordyline fruticosa). In and around the settlements at Anaura Bay the botanists gathered ninetyone plant species in seventy-seven genera including kaka beak or ko¯whai ngutu104

HMS ENDEAVOUR ka¯ka¯ (Clianthus puniceus), shiny karamu (Coprosma lucida), tree fuchsia (Fuchsia excorticata) and the hairy perennial Senecio banksii, all new to them.42 After leaving here on 22 October, gale-force winds the following day forced Cook to put into Tolaga Bay (Uawa). Taking advantage of this providential unplanned stop, Banks and Solander enjoyed their first opportunity for extensive botanising, and according to Parkinson’s journal, he roamed with them among ‘hills covered with beautiful flowering shrubs, intermingled with a great number of tall and stately palms which fill the air with a most fragrant perfume’. Even Cook ‘found also several new plants’ at the ‘watering place’ where the ship’s barrels were filled, and the tally for the week-long stop was an impressive 158 species in 126 genera, including for the first time: raukumara (Brachyglottis perdicioides), karamu (Coprosma robusta), hopbush or akeake (Dodonaea viscosa), kohekohe (Dysoxylum spectabile), whau (Entelea arborescens), kiekie (Freycinetia banksii), rewarewa (Knightia excelsa), nikau palm (Rhopalostylis sapida), large-leaved milk tree (Streblus banksii), white sun orchid (Thelymitra longifolia) and puriri (Vitex lucens).43 On the last day of October the Endeavour was sailing north towards the Bay of Plenty (Te Moana-a-Toi). Here, word of the Endeavour’s firepower had yet to reach, and she was again threatened by war canoes. At the eastern extremity of the Bay Cook deemed it necessary to fire two warning shots from the ship’s canon – one of grape and the second of round shot – in order to dissuade a large canoe carrying sixty warriors. Seeing the effect of the round shot hitting the sea the paddlers ‘immediately took to their paddles rowing ashore with more haste than I ever saw men, without so much as stopping to breathe till they got out of sight’. To add insult to injury Cook named this place Cape Runaway. A relatively peaceful stay was made in Mercury Bay (Opuragi), so named because it was here on 9 November that Cook observed the transit of Mercury. The next day Banks added another curious delicacy to his epicurean adventures when he broiled the shags he had shot while exploring the River of Mangroves, with ‘every one declaring that they were excellent food as indeed I think they were. Hunger is certainly most excellent sauce’. Two days later he was ashore again investigating two pa¯. The first – Te Puta o Paretauhinau – was the smaller and it entranced Banks. It was, he wrote: 105

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the most beautifuly romantick thing I ever saw. It was built on a small rock detachd from the main and surroundd at high water, the top of this was fencd round with rails after their manner but was not large enough to contain above 5 or 6 houses; the whole appeard totaly inaccessible to any animal who was not furnishd with wings, indeed it was only aproachable by one very narrow and steep path, but what made it most truly romantick was that much the largest part of it was hollowd out into an arch which penetrated quite through it and was in hight not less than 20 yards perpendicular above the water which ran through it.

Knowing that the ship was to remain at anchor for a number of days, the seasoned field scientists worked in the dry of the great cabin during inclement weather, venturing ashore to botanise only on fair days, meeting ‘our usual good success which could not be doubted in a countrey so totaly new’. On the 13 November, the ‘rain and blowing weather’ kept them aboard, with Banks adding that ‘indeed there was little temptation for we hade got by much the greatest number or perhaps all the plants that the season afforded’. Their tally here, from collections made between 3 and 15 November, was in excess of 214 species in 149 genera, including the first specimens of silver tree-fern (Cyathea dealbata), pohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa), akepiro (Olearia furfuracea) and grass-tree (Sphenotoma squarrosa).44 One of the specimens was of the grey mangrove (Avicennia marina subsp. australasica); this last Solander originally named Avicennia resinifera because of the lump of gum he discovered between the tree’s aerial roots, incorrectly believing that it came from the mangrove; it in fact came from the great kauri tree (Agathis australis), specimens of which would have been clearly visible from the ship, but which neither man commented upon. However, when the Endeavour took a southerly detour into what Beaglehole notes was towards the bottom of the Hauraki Gulf45 (Tı¯kapa Moana) and what Cook named the Firth of Thames, exploring up the mouth of the ‘River Thames’ (Waihou River), other giant trees were encountered in the swampy forest. A specimen of matai (Prumnopitys taxifolia) was felled, and a mighty kahikatea (Dacrycarpus dacrydioides) measured by Cook. With a trunk circumference of 106

HMS ENDEAVOUR 19 feet 8 inches measured at 6 feet up the trunk, the overall height (taken with a quadrant) from the trunk base to the first branch was 89 feet with an estimated ‘356 solid feet of timber in this tree clear of the branches’. Banks’s botanical haul here between 18 and 22 November was forty species in thirty-five genera;46 sadly this stately forest of giant trees has now been entirely felled. BAY OF ISLANDS TO QUEEN CHARLOTTE SOUND

As the Endeavour sailed northwards she met with mixed weather and mixed encounters, some friendly, others ‘abominably saucy’. Banks and Solander worked on their plant collections until the anchor was dropped on 29 November at the southwest end of Motuarohia Island in the Bay of Islands. Here, a landing culminated in a tense stand-off which was diffused by the now standard display of firepower. December’s diary entries began with a summary of Banks’s gathered knowledge on cannibalism. Loath ‘to beleive that any human beings could have among them so brutal a custom’, he was forced to acknowledge it was a universal practice, having asked at each encounter and ‘without one exception been answerd in the affirmative’. But equally universal was the unequivocal declaration that what was consumed were only ‘the bodies of those of their enemies who are killd in war’. Less gruesome was the paper mulberry tree (Broussonetia papyrifera) – ‘a great rarity . . . from whence they made cloth like the Otahite cloth’ – that he was shown during a visit to a village on Moturua Island on 4 December. In total the islands yielded up about eighty-five plant species in seventy-six genera, most of which Banks had already encountered.47 Anchor was raised the next day, and that evening the Endeavour had a close escape. Becalmed, she was carried by strong eddies close to the breakers on a rocky shore, twice striking what was named ‘Whale Rock’. Sailing onwards, battling inclement winds (and this in the middle of the austral summer), the North Cape was sighted on the evening of the 18th. From there the Endeavour sailed north to 33° 2′ South before turning south, the northern tip of the island now well astern, for the run down the west coast of the North Island, fully exposed to the often violent wind and swell from the Tasman Sea. The second Christmas Day away from home was marked during the passage with appropriate good cheer: ‘Our Goose pye was eat with great approbation and in the Evening all 107

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS hands were as Drunk as our forefathers usd to be upon the like occasion.’ Banks kept up his ornithological observations but it was too rough to launch his little boat until 6 January. After a passage of forty-one days, on 15 January 1770 the anchor was at last let go in Ship Cove within the shelter of Queen Charlotte Sound at the northern end of the South Island, well inside what would become Cook Strait. That evening Banks and Solander went ashore near a pa¯ and while they found only two new plants, according to Parkinson’s journal the seine net yielded a dozen fish taxa.48 The next day, when exploring a small family settlement in what was probably Cannibal Cove, Banks and Solander not only witnessed the Ma¯ori way of cooking dog (in a buried oven) but also encountered physical evidence of cannibalism, which shocked the accompanying seamen: the bones were clearly human, upon them were evident marks of their having been dressd on the fire, the meat was not intirely pickd off from them and on the grisly ends which were gnawd were evident marks of teeth, and these were accidentaly found in a provision basket. On asking the people what bones are these? they answerd, The bones of a man. — And have you eat the flesh? — Yes. — Have you none of it left? — No. — Why did not you eat the woman who we saw today in the water? — She was our relation. — Who then is it that you do eat? — Those who are killd in war. — And who was the man whose bones these are? — 5 days ago a boat of our enemies came into this bay and of them we killd 7, of whoom the owner of these bones was one.

On the 20th Banks was shown four heads, ‘preservd with the flesh and hair on and kept I suppose as trophies . . . The flesh and skin upon these heads were soft but they were somehow preservd so as not to stink at all.’ One of these he purchased. Noting the hilly landscape and the absence of plantations encountered elsewhere, he sardonically noted: ‘I suppose they live intirely upon fish dogs and Enemies.’ Two days later Cook climbed the hill called Kaitapeha from where, and to his great gratification, he saw ‘the Eastern sea and satisfied himself of the existence of a streight communicating with it’. Banks and Solander continued to explore on land, botanising, climbing the hills (and raising a cairn), visiting the ‘heppah’ (villages) and 108

HMS ENDEAVOUR interacting with the Ma¯ori. By the 27th the pair had completed their plant collecting, and it was with a perceptible sense of satisfaction that Banks concluded: ‘We have I beleive got all that are in our neighbourhood, tho the immense thickness of the woods which are almost renderd impassable by climbing plants intangling every way has not a little retarded us.’ The tally here (Hatch identifies the site as Totaranui) collected between 15 January and 6 February was a respectable 207 species in 146 genera, including the first speargrass or spaniard (Aciphylla colensoi), needle-leaf grass-tree (Dracophyllum filifolium), rimu (Dacrydium cupressinum), southern rata (Metrosideros umbellata), heketara (Olearia rani) and horoeka (Pseudopanax crassifolius).49 Banks also made reference to collecting mosses, but the specimens never made it back to Britain and do not appear in the manuscript ‘Catalogue of the plants of Cook’s First Voyage’. It may be they were casualties of the near shipwreck on the Great Barrier Reef (see below, p. 121). THE SOUTH ISLAND

On 6 February, experiencing strong winds, the Endeavour left her snug anchorage, where the crew had been enjoying copious quantities of fresh fish while repairing and filling the water casks, cutting hay and fodder for the sheep, chopping wood for fuel and carrying out general maintenance, including repairing the tiller and rigging, and re-caulking and tarring the ship’s sides. No landings were made during the seven weeks it now took to circumnavigate the South Island. Banks – who had Banks Peninsula (originally named Banks’s Island) named for him by Cook and entered in the latter’s journal entry for 18 February – when the weather allowed spent some of his sea time out in his boat, shooting birds (in the most part albatross), describing the land as viewed through his achromatic telescope when it did not. Cook did not circumnavigate Stewart Island at the southern end of the South Island; he thought it part of the main island. Neither – to Banks’s chagrin – did he enter Doubtful Sound, Breaksea Sound or Dagg’s Sound, but prudently passed them by. Nor did he observe the entrance to Milford Sound. With the circumnavigation complete, Cook took the Endeavour back into Queen Charlotte Sound, anchoring in Low Neck Bay at D’Urville Island on the evening of 26 March. The last days of the month were spent refilling water barrels, cutting 109

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS wood and fishing, and for Banks botanising, although on the 29th he was laid low, ‘ill with sickness at stomack and most violent headach, a complaint which in some of our people has been succeeded by a fever’. On the 30th he made his last plant hunting foray in New Zealand: ‘I resolvd to climb some hill in hopes of meeting some plants in the upper regions as none had been found in the lower. I did with great dificulty, walking for more than a mile in fern higher than my head; success however answerd my wishes and I got 3 plants which we had not before seen.’ This last few days of botanising yielded seventeen species in fifteen genera.50 Solander described the new botanical discoveries and the diversity of the coastal habitats he and Banks explored in his (unpublished) Primitiae Florae Novae Zelandiae (see below, p. 135); usefully for historians, Solander (with Tupaia’s assistance) also recorded, mostly with great accuracy, the Ma¯ori plant name. The work’s annotated checklist-index, the first collection made of New Zealand flora, lists a total of 329 valid species in 151 genera.51 Entomology was meanwhile enriched by the discovery of forty new species of insect, described by the Dane Johan Christian Fabricius (1745–1808) in 1775. Although conditions ashore were often challenging, with the collecting all conducted in costal locations and the majority of specimens gathered at the North Island (the South Island is represented only by two locations in Queen Charlotte Sound), the plant collections nevertheless provide a vital first study of the flora of New Zealand, and represent a verifiable record of certain of the plants growing in New Zealand before European settlement. Many were subsequently cited as type specimens, and in the 1890s, when it was realised that Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker’s popular Handbook of the New Zealand Flora (1867) was out of date, permission was granted by the British Museum to use the engravings (commissioned by Banks upon his return) to illustrate Thomas Kirk’s posthumously published The Students’ Flora of New Zealand and the Outlying Islands (1899). WHICH WAY HOME?

With the circumnavigation and surveying complete, Cook now turned his attention to the passage home. He convened a meeting on 30 March, attended by his officers, and of course Banks, at which he proposed and discussed three possible alternatives. As Cook recorded in his journal of 31 March: 110

1 This portrait of the young Joseph Banks wearing a black coat, holding a book and leaning on a globe which shows Australia dates from c. 1790 and is attributed to John Opie. It is derivative of the 1757 portrait of Banks as a boy by either Lemuel Francis Abbott or Johann Zoffany.

2 In 1789, the topographical draughtsman and watercolour artist John Claude Nattes was commissioned by Banks to record the buildings of Lincolnshire, including the architecturally challenged Revesby Abbey.

3 This depiction of Eton College by the Italian painter Canaletto shows a summer view from the bank of the River Thames. Banks was a poor pupil but it was while walking home one evening from swimming in the river aged 14 that he discovered his vocation: botany.

4 The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes by John Gerard was first published in 1597 (shown) and reprinted in an expanded form in 1620. A copy belonging to his mother was a great source of botanical learning for the young Banks.

5 A view of Peckwater Quadrangle at Christ Church, Oxford. Banks was a Gentleman Commoner between December 1760 and July 1764, and his rooms on Staircase 8 were on the top floor of the right-hand wing of the quad, wrapping around the end of the building.

6 Fort York was erected at Chateau Bay, Labrador by the crew of HMS Niger in the summer of 1766 during Banks’s first voyage of natural history discovery and was manned by a contingent of Marines who stayed behind when the ship left.

7 This herbarium sheet shows the specimen of Rosa blanda collected by Banks – noted in his own hand – at St John’s, Newfoundland. It is the type specimen and is held today in the General Herbarium at the Natural History Museum, London.

8 HMS Endeavour off the Coast of New Holland by Samuel Atkins is an imagined representation of this matron of the seas which took Banks around the world between 1768 and 1771. The design and appearance of the ship has been the subject of much investigation and research.

9 A stylised portrait group by John Hamilton Mortimer painted just after the Endeavour’s return in 1771, depicting from left to right: Dr Daniel Solander, Joseph Banks, Lieutenant James Cook, Dr John Hawkesworth and John Montagu, fourth earl of Sandwich.

10 Two pages from Banks’s Endeavour journal revealing his somewhat scrawling hand, poor grammar and spelling. The two volumes are today held in the State Library of New South Wales, Sydney.

11 Inhabitants of the Island of Terra del Fuego in their Hut is one of the few paintings of people and place made by Banks’s employee Alexander Buchan before his untimely death at Tahiti on 17 April 1769.

12 Albeit painted on Cook’s second visit to Tahiti in August 1773, William Hodges’s depiction of Matavai Bay (also Port Royal Bay) captures the exotic scene of the Endeavour anchorage during her sojourn on the island from 13 April to 13 August 1769. 13 A botanical sketch of breadfruit (Artocarpus altilis) by Sydney Parkinson, Banks’s other expedition artist. One of the staple foods of Tahiti, breadfruit was later the causal factor of the infamous ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ in 1789.

14 A self-portrait of Sydney Parkinson, the artist Banks employed both to work up the zoological illustrations from his Newfoundland voyage and who accompanied him on the Endeavour, and who was to die at sea on 25 January 1771.

15 This sketch by Sydney Parkinson depicts a Maori war canoe or waka with a view of Gable End Foreland. On several occasions Cook was required to fire warning shots from the Endeavour’s canon to deter an attack.

16 The herbarium specimen collected by Banks and Parkinson’s botanical illustration of Banksia serrata together. The genus of plants named for Banks was described by Carl Linnaeus the Younger in 1781.

17 Held at the Natural History Museum, London and still within their original, bespoke, partitioned wooden drawers, is the Banksian shell collection. These cowries are in drawer 6.

18 The first cartoon lampooning Banks as The Fly Catching Macaroni was drawn by Matthew Darly and published on 12 July 1772. Solander was similarly mocked as The Simpling Macaroni on the following day.

19 The famous portrait of Banks by his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, for which he sat on three occasions between December 1771 and March 1773. Admired by art historians for its intellectualism, power and energy, it is considered one of Reynolds’s finest paintings.

20 Banks was the first to write a description of Fingal’s Cave which he explored on 13 August 1772 during his third and final voyage to various Hebridean islands and Iceland between July and October 1772. This engraving is from a drawing by John Cleveley Junior.

21 Also by John Cleveley Jr is this painting, View of a mountain, near Hekla with a view of a travelling caravan. Banks was likely the first non-Icelander to climb the volcano Mount Hekla when he made the ascent on 25 September 1772. Upon reaching the peak at 4,892 feet, ‘there proceeded so much heat and steam that we could not bear to sit down’.

HMS ENDEAVOUR To return by the way of Cape Horn was what I most wished, because by this rout we should have been able to prove the Existance or Non-Existance of a Southern Continent, which yet remains Doubtfull; but in order to Ascertain this we must have kept in a higher Latitude in the very Depth of Winter, but the Condition of the Ship, in every respect, was not thought sufficient for such an undertaking. For the same reason the thoughts of proceeding directly to the Cape of Good Hope was laid aside, especially as no discovery of any Moment could be hoped for in that rout. It was therefore resolved to return by way of the East Indies by the following rout: upon Leaving this Coast to steer to the Westward until we fall in with the East Coast of New Holland [Australia], and then to follow the direction of that Coast to the Northward, or what other direction it might take us, until we arrive at its Northern extremity . . .

In his own journal, Banks follows the entry for 30 March with a forty-twopage-long ‘Account of New Zealand’, in which he draws together what ‘I have observd of this countrey and its inhabitants’, covering its discovery by Tasman and its mountainous topography. The account concludes with four slightly wistful pages in which he too comments on the route home. At Cook’s meeting all had ‘unanimously agreed’ to the third route, along which it was hoped to make ‘discoveries more interesting to trade at least than any we had yet made’. Although conversant with the good reasons why not, Banks was disappointed at the loss of an opportunity to discover ‘our first grand object, the Southern Continent’, something he could not give up ‘without much regret’; regret because he truly believed it existed, even though ‘I have a preposession in favour of the fact which I find it dificult to account for. Ice in large bodies has been seen off Cape Horn now and then.’ Deducing from their voyaging that the continent must ‘be situated in very high latitudes’, he concluded with advice for mounting an expedition specifically to discover the Southern Continent. Not with the intent of claiming or colonising new lands for trade or exploitation, but as ‘a Voyage of Mere Curiosity . . . as the subject of such a voyage seems at least as interesting to Science in general and the increase of knowledge as the Observation which gave 111

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS rise to the Present one’. Perhaps at this juncture this was wishful thinking, but in due time such became the aim of Cook’s second voyage (albeit conducted by the Royal Navy and not the Royal Society as Banks suggested). Cook sailed the Endeavour away from New Zealand and out into the nownotoriously unpredictable waters of the Tasman Sea on 31 March 1770. In fair and breezy conditions the course was west-northwest until 5 April, when the weather changed, and the Endeavour turned west-southwest in calm, humid conditions. Banks took to his boat, shooting seabirds including several species of albatross and petrel, but on the afternoon of the 14th the weather deteriorated, bringing strong gales from the west-southwest, ‘heavy squalls’ and a large swell. On the 16th Cook changed course to the northwest, but in spite of his expecting to, no sighting was made of Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania).

V BOTANY BAY AND ENDEAVOUR RIVER Land! Australia, as it became called, was spotted at six o’clock in the morning of the 19 April by Lieutenant Zachary Hicks, with Cook noting that it extended ‘from North-East to West, distance 5 or 6 Leagues [15 or 18 nautical miles]’. Two hours later Cook altered course northeast, naming the southernmost point of land then in sight Point Hicks. According to Banks’s journal entry, ‘at 10 it [the land] was pretty plainly to be observd; it made in sloping hills, coverd in Part with trees or bushes, but interspersd with large tracts of sand’. So began the first, and given Cook’s methodical approach, most detailed running survey of the east coast of New Holland from what Cook estimated to be latitude 38° South in what is now New South Wales to 10° 37′ South, when the Endeavour reached the tip of Cape York in what is now Queensland nearly seventeen weeks later. At noon on the 20th Banks saw the first signs of habitation, ‘a smoak’ a little way inland and ‘in the Evening several more’. Two days later and with the ‘Countrey hilly but rising in gentle slopes and well wooded’, Banks caught his first sight of Australian Aboriginals when Cook ‘stood in the land near enough to discern 5 people who appeard through our glasses to be enormously black’. The next day 112

HMS ENDEAVOUR it was calm enough for Banks to take to his boat with dipping net and collect jellyfish and salps (gelatinous, cylindrical sea creatures). Cape St George, Jervis Bay and Long Nose were passed and named, and on the 25th when the Endeavour was off Red Point, Banks penned an unusually, for him, unscientific and playful description: ‘The countrey tho in general well enough clothd appeard in some places bare; it resembled in my imagination the back of a lean Cow, coverd in general with long hair, but nevertheless where her scraggy hip bones have stuck out farther than they ought accidental rubbs and knocks have intirely bard them of their share of covering.’ After dinner on the 27th ‘the Captn proposd to hoist out boats and attempt to land, which gave me no small satisfaction’ but the pinnace proved too leaky and the surf too rough to beach the small yawl. Nevertheless Banks did see four individuals, two of whom were carrying a small canoe, and growing among the trees near the shoreline what he called ‘cabbage trees’, in likelihood the cabbagetree palm (Livistona australis). There was better luck next day when an ‘opening appearing like a harbour was seen’, and with the winds southerly and the weather clear Cook took the Endeavour between the heads, the newly named Point (now Cape) Solander to the south, and Cape Banks to the north, into what he initially named ‘Sting Ray’s harbour or Bay’ because of the huge quantities of the fish caught here – not least by Lieutenant Gore who landed a huge specimen that when gutted weighed in at 336 pounds. The reception from the Australian Aboriginals to the approach of the unfamiliar vessel was mixed. Some retreated ‘to a little emminence’ to observe; an old woman ‘often lookd at the ship but expressd neither surprize nor concern’; and four men fishing from small canoes ‘seemd to be totaly engag’d in what they were about’. The slow progress of carefully navigating the Endeavour in gave Banks his first close look at the people of Gweagal clan of the Dharawal nation. Simultaneously, it gave those whose land this was, their first views of Europeans. As Banks recorded in his journal of that significant day, 28 April 1770, two men who stood on rocks opposite the ship were painted with white, their faces seemingly only dusted over with it, their bodies painted with broad strokes drawn over their breasts and backs 113

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS resembling much a soldiers cross belts, and their legs and thighs also with such like broad strokes drawn round them which imitated broad garters or bracelets. Each of these held in his hand a wooden weapon about 2 ½ feet long, in shape much resembling a scymeter [likely a boomerang] . . .

The ship was anchored under the south shore about 2 nautical miles within the heads, and after dinner a landing was made at a settlement on Kurnell Peninsula approximately 1.25 miles inland of the rocky headland on the south side of the bay. All but two men of the tribe fled, and they, armed with lances and throwing sticks, who as Banks recorded calld to us very loud in a harsh sounding Language of which neither us or Tupaia understood a word, shàking their lances and menacing, in all appearance resolvd to dispute our landing to the utmost tho they were but two and we 30 or 40 at least. In this manner we parleyd with them for about a quarter of an hour, they waving to us to be gone, we again signing that we wanted water and that we meant them no harm. They remaind resolute so a musquet was fird over them, the Effect of which was that the Youngest of the two dropd a bundle of lances on the rock at the instant in which he heard the report; he however snatchd them up again and both renewd their threats and opposition. A Musquet loaded with small shot was now fird at the Eldest of the two who was about 40 yards from the boat; it struck him on the legs but he minded it very little so another was immediately fird at him; on this he ran up to the house about 100 yards distant and soon returnd with a sheild. In the mean time we had landed on the rock. He immediately threw a lance at us and the young man another which fell among the thickest of us but hurt nobody; 2 more musquets with small shot were then fird at them on which the Eldest threw one more lance and then ran away as did the other. We went up to the houses, in one of which we found the children hid behind the sheild and a peice of bark in one of the houses. We were conscious from the distance the people had been from us when we fird that the shot could have done them no material harm; we therefore resolvd to leave the children on 114

HMS ENDEAVOUR the spot without even opening their shelter. We therefore threw into the house to them some beads, ribbands, cloths &c. as presents and went away. We however thought it no improper measure to take away with us all the lances which we could find about the houses, amounting in number to forty or fifty . . .

Banks described the local population as living scattered in small groups and subsisting mainly on fish and shellfish; he noted their living conditions and certain of their cultural artefacts, including canoes, and made frequent mention of their fires. But throughout the duration of the Endeavour’s stay the people remained aloof, at a distance and declining all contact; and when encountered by chance they usually ran away, although the occasional spear was hurled at various of the men of the Endeavour. Banks and Solander began their botanising on 29 April at Bare Island, walking ‘a little way into the woods’ and discovering ‘many plants’, and on 1 May accompanied by Cook and ‘some of the people [ship’s crew], making in all 10 musquets’, the pair made an excursion inland for a distance of about 5 miles. The landscape according to Cook was diversified with Woods, Lawns, and Marshes. The woods are free from underwood of every kind, and the trees are at such a distance from one another that the whole Country, or at least great part of it, might be Cultivated without being obliged to cut down a single tree. We found the Soil every where, except in the Marshes, to be a light white sand, and produceth a quantity of good Grass, which grows in little Tufts about as big as one can hold in one’s hand, and pretty close to one another . . .

Of the few species of trees a particularly large one ‘yeilding a gum much like sanguis draconis’ caught Banks’s attention (perhaps a kaikur, Eucalyptus alba).52 Here too tantalising evidence of the local fauna: Solander saw a ‘quadruped about the size of a Rabbit’ (probably a bandicoot or a kangaroo-rat); Banks’s greyhound, brought along in the hope of running something down, also glimpsed it, but ‘lamd himself against a stump which lay conceald in the long grass’. The 115

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS ‘dung of a large animal that had fed on grass which much resembled that of a Stag’ was no doubt that of a kangaroo; the ‘footsteps of an animal clawd like a dog or wolf and as large as the latter’ probably belonged to a dingo (Canis lupus dingo); and the prints of a ‘small animal whose feet were like those of a polecat or weesel’ to one of the native cats. Banks did not expound on the flora in his journal but did record on 2 May that with so many plants already collected he and Solander were happy to spend a wet morning aboard ‘to examine them a little at least’. With the weather improved that afternoon, collecting resumed when they accompanied Cook on ‘a little excursion along the Sea Coast to the Southward’. The next day, with Solander and Cook exploring the head of the bay (in his journal entry for 3 May Cook eulogised about the ‘deep black Soil which we thought was capable of produceing any kind of grain, at present it produceth besides timber as fine meadow as ever was seen’), Banks worked on the plant collection. To prepare herbarium specimens was laborious and tedious work. The first and most important job was to remove the moisture from the gathered material by means of drying paper. The paper changed frequently (the damp sheets hung to dry and used again), and, perhaps referring to the specimens gathered in New Zealand and so far in ‘New Holland’, Banks wrote on 3 May: Our collection of plants was now grown so immensely large that it was necessary that some extraordinary care should be taken of them, lest they should spoil in the books. I therefore devoted this day to that business and carried ashore all the drying paper, nearly 200 quires, of which the larger part was full, and spreading them upon a sail in the sun, kept them in this manner exposed the whole day, often turning them, and sometimes turning the quires in which were plants inside out. By this means they came on board at night in very good condition . . .

Parkinson was to make ninety-four sketch drawings of the specimens collected in what Cook would rename Botany Bay (exactly when the name change was made is the subject of discussion53) in view of the ‘great quantity of 116

HMS ENDEAVOUR New Plants &ca Mr Banks and Dr Solander collected in this place’. Unusually for a major scientific expedition into new territory, the collection (deposited at the Natural History Museum, London in 1827) includes relatively few type specimens and did not play a major role in the systematic description of the Australian flora. As is explored in Chapter 6, this is primarily because of Banks’s deplorable failure to publish his findings. However, based on available herbarium collections in Britain and Australia, it can be stated that during the six days the anchorage allowed ashore Banks and Solander either collected or noted 132 plant species, including six of Leptospermum, four of Acacia, three of Banksia – the genus described in 1781 by Carl Linnaeus the Younger, the son of Carl Linnaeus, in honour of Banks (B. ericifolia, B. integrifolia and B. serrata, Plate 16) – as well as the garden favourite, crimson bottlebrush (Callistemon citrinus).54 NORTHWARDS TO NEAR DISASTER

Botany Bay was left behind on 6 May, and Bustard Bay, the first of eight anchorages made in Queensland, was reached on the evening of the 22nd. Ashore the next morning Banks observed large pelicans (Pelecanus conspicillatus) and shot an eastern bustard (Ardeotis australis) weighing 15 pounds; it was eaten the next day. He also collected various entomological and shell specimens and discovered ‘a great variety of Plants’. The latter included narrow-leaved ironbark (Eucalyptus crebra) and a couple of mangroves – likely Bruguiera gymnorrhiza and Ceriops tagal, specimens of both of which were noted later growing along the banks of the Endeavour River. As Banks noted on 23 May, the presence of certain familiar taxa he took as indicative that ‘we were upon the point of leaving the Southern temperate Zone’. More specimens were added to the various collections at Thirsty Sound on Quail Island (29 to 31 May) and the start of June found the Endeavour off Cape Palmerston as Cook cautiously sought a safe route through the islands, shoals, reefs and cays of the Great Barrier Reef, which Banks called ‘our Archipelago’. Anchorages were made at Palm Island, a brief afternoon stop on 7 June which yielded ‘14 or 15 new plants’, and on 9 to 10 June at Mission Bay (west of Cape Grafton and east of modern day Cairns) where were found ‘a few Plants that we had not before met with’. 117

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS By now the officers and crew must have been physically and mentally exhausted, not only by the constant vigilance required to navigate and sail through these treacherous and literally uncharted waters, but also drained by prolonged and challenging voyaging. It was now twenty-one months since Plymouth was left behind, and the greater part of the past four months since leaving Ship Cove in New Zealand had been spent at sea with only short breaks during which there had been maintenance work and revictualling to be done. Granted, the company knew it was homeward-bound, but the surveying and exploring slowed progress and must have caused general impatience and frustration. Perhaps it was a combination of ‘voyage fatigue’ and bad luck that precipitated near disaster on the night of 10 June. According to Banks’s account, earlier in the evening Cook had put the Endeavour ‘upon a wind off shore’ in order to avoid ‘fall rocks and sholes’ but ‘a few minutes before 11’ she hit and became stuck fast upon what was named Endeavour Reef. As an anxious Banks recounted: Our situation became now greatly alarming: we had stood off shore 3 hours and a half with a pleasant breeze so knew we could not be very near it: we were little less than certain that we were upon sunken coral rocks, the most dreadfull of all others on account of their sharp points and grinding quality which cut through a ships bottom almost immediately. The officers however behavd with inimitable coolness void of all hurry and confusion; a boat was got out in which the master went and after sounding round the ship found that she had ran over a rock and consequently had Shole water all round her. All this time she continued to beat very much so that we could hardly keep our legs upon the Quarter deck; by the light of the moon we could see her sheathing boards &c. floating thick round her; about 12 her false keel came away . . .

Cook subsequently received criticism, not least from Dalrymple55 who believed that he should have anchored at night in such dangerous waters. However, the moon was clear, the sea and weather generally calm, and it was not the first nocturnal sailing in the area. Throughout the remainder of the night 118

HMS ENDEAVOUR preparations were made to take the anchors out in the small boats and pull the Endeavour off, but as the tide fell she became more firmly fixed. To complicate matters she had hit at almost high water thus making the task of re-floating her all the more challenging. Dawn of 11 June revealed the shore about 8 leagues (24 nautical miles) distant when, and to the company’s great relief, the wind fell and the sea became calm. Had this fortuitous set of circumstance not transpired it is likely that wave and wind action on the reef would have broken up the ship. With the anchors put out, Cook ordered the ship be lightened with the ‘Guns [six deck canons], Iron and Stone Ballast, [water] Casks, Hoop Staves, Oil Jarrs, decay’d Stores, etc.’ jettisoned overboard. As the tide began to rise Banks recorded in his entry for that day ‘the ship workd violently upon the rocks so that by 2 [o’clock in the afternoon] she began to make water and increasd very fast’. To keep the ship afloat the three working suction pumps were permanently manned (the fourth proved defective), and everyone, including Banks, who had nothing but praise for the crew during this difficult time, took their turn at this physically demanding work. That night though Banks’s usual cheerful optimism deserted him and he intirely gave up the ship and packing up what I thought I might save prepard myself for the worst. The most critical part of our distress now aproachd: the ship was almost afloat and every thing ready to get her into deep water but she leakd so fast that with all our pumps we could just keep her free: if (as was probable) she should make more water when hauld off she must sink and we well knew that our boats were not capable of carrying us all ashore, so that some, probably the most of us, must be drownd: a better fate maybe than those would have who should get ashore without arms to defend themselves from the Indians or provide themselves with food, on a countrey where we had not the least reason to hope for subsistance had they even every convenence to take it as netts &c, so barren had we always found it; and had they even met with good usage from the natives and food to support them, debarrd from a hope of ever again seing their native countrey or conversing with any but the most uncivilizd savages perhaps in the world. 119

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS The dreadfull time now aproachd and the anziety in every bodys countenance was visible enough: the Capstan and Windlace were mannd and they began to heave: fear of Death now stard us in the face; hopes we had none but of being able to keep the ship afloat till we could run her ashore on some part of the main where out of her materials we might build a vessel large enough to carry us to the East Indies . . .

His pessimism, however, proved premature: ‘At 10 O’Clock she floated and was in a few minutes hawld into deep water where to our great satisfaction she made no more water than she had done’, but with ‘3 feet 9 Inches Water in the hold’ it was literally all hands to the pumps for the rest of the night and the next day. An added urgency, were it necessary, was caused by the ship’s carpenter, who misread the level in the pump and wrongly estimated that the ship was taking on water faster than before. The need now was to swiftly find a safe, sheltered spot for either ‘laying the ship ashore or heaving her down’ in order to facilitate repairs. But first she had to make it to shore and to help ensure she did, Midshipman Monkhouse proposed ‘fothering’ her in order to reduce the ingress of seawater. Cook put him in charge of the operation and in his journal for 12 June Banks described the procedure: He took a lower studding sail and having mixd together a large quantity of Oakum chopd fine and wool he stickd it down upon the sail as loosely as possible in small bundles each about as big as his fist, these were rangd in rows 3 or 4 inches from each other: this was to be sunk under the ship and the theory of it was this, where ever the leak was must be a great suction which would probably catch hold of one or other of these lumps of Oakum and wool and drawing it in either partly or intirely stop up the hole . . .

The description makes this difficult task appear straightforward; it was not, but its execution was successful, and the Endeavour limped shorewards. What looked like the entrance to a suitable harbour was discovered on the 13th but a southeasterly gale prevented an approach, and it was not until the evening of the 120

HMS ENDEAVOUR 17th that the Endeavour was at last ‘moord within 20 feet of the shore afloat’ on the south shore at the entrance to Endeavour River (at Cook Harbour in today’s Cooktown). She was hauled ashore on 21st and when the damage was examined on 22 June it was discovered that by great good fortune a large lump of coral had broken off the reef and become lodged in the hull, acting like a bung in a hole so large that Banks noted it would otherwise have ‘sunk a ship with twice our pumps’. ENDEAVOUR RIVER, KANGAROOS AND REPAIRS

On 22 June some of the crew made the first sighting of a kangaroo (perhaps a young eastern grey kangaroo, Macropus giganteus), which Banks recorded as ‘an animal as large as a grey hound, of a mouse coulour and very swift’ (Banks himself first saw a specimen on 25th). Two days later one of the seamen provided Banks with a description of an animal ‘about as large and much like a one gallon cagg, as black as the Devil [with] 2 horns on its head, it went but Slowly but I dard not touch it’. In another description Banks includes wings, suggesting this was likely a type of large fruit bat or flying fox (Pteropus spp.). Then, on 26th Banks experienced one of the most frustrating disasters to be visited upon a field naturalist, the damage and loss of part of a hard-earned collection. When the ship was hauled ashore to begin repair work the seawater within had run towards the stern, where ‘my plants which were for safety stowd in the bread room were this day found under water; nobody had warnd me of this danger which had never once enterd into my head’. For the rest of the day he transferred the specimens ashore to be re-dried, in the process saving many but some were unfortunately ‘intirely lost and spoild’. Frustrating as this damage was, Banks continued with his plant collecting, recording in his journal for 27 June that he had collected various taxa he considered could be edibles: a type of taro (Colocasia esculenta), a plantain (Musa banksii) and a Burdekin plum (Pleiogynium cerasiferum). They made it to the dining table but were not well received. And on the last two days of the month Banks reported two separate sightings of what was likely a dingo (Canis lupus dingo). By 1 July the repairs were complete, and on the 3rd the pinnace was dispatched to search for a safe route out through the reefs, returning loaded with shellfish 121

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS including ‘large Cockles’ (giant clam, Tridacna gigas), ‘One of which was more than 2 men could eat’. And that night an ‘Allegator’ was spotted swimming alongside the refloated ship (probably an estuarine crocodile, Crocodylus porosus). However, it was quickly realised the next day that the refloated Endeavour had ‘sprung a plank between decks abreast the main chains’ as a result of the strain of laying ashore. She was brought ashore once more for further repair and survey to ascertain if there was any additional damage. This work and bad weather were to prevent a second departure until early August, and with the second batch of repairs in hand, Banks, Lieutenant Gore, Tupaia and two sailors made a threeday excursion upriver (6 to 8 July) in order to hunt some of the animals so fleetingly seen. Enduring plagues of mosquitoes, along the way finding the camp of the local tribespeople (Banks ‘had so long had a curiosity to see well’; they proved as retiring as those in Botany Bay), they observed a kangaroo in full motion as it was chased by Banks’s dogs. But it was Gore who on 14 July triumphantly shot the first specimen of this illusive, mysterious creature, so ‘long . . . the subject of our speculations’. The next day, after it had been excitedly examined (it was probably a young eastern grey kangaroo, too, and both the etymology of the word ‘kangaroo’ as well as the specimens gathered at Endeavour River have been the subject of much study56) the 78-pound ‘beast’ was, of course, ‘Dressd for our dinners and provd excellent meat’. Gore was to bag a similar 84-pound animal, in all likelihood a wallaroo (Macropus robustus), on the 29th, three days after Banks had the ‘good fortune to take’ what was was probably a common ringtail possum (Pseudocheirus peregrinus). At last, on 10 July, Banks was able to observe at close quarters Australian Aboriginals, when four wary men of the Guugu Yimithirr tribe were enticed to come by canoe to the campsite. They were, Banks recorded, smaller and darker than the Ma¯ori, invariably went about naked save for a bird’s bone through their noses, and spoke in a harsh language which he thought closer to English than any other tongue so far encountered. Various members of the tribe visited on each of the subsequent three days and slowly a rapport developed over the coming week, with several individuals confident enough to venture aboard the Endeavour. Unfortunately the friendly overtures did not last: on 19th ten tribesmen visiting 122

HMS ENDEAVOUR the ship demanded one of the turtles on the deck, and when their request was refused ‘shewd great marks of Resentment; one who had askd me [Banks] on my refusal stamping with his foot pushd me from him with a countenance full of disdain’. Having repeatedly tried to lay hands on a turtle and physically take it away, the men then all in an instant leapd into their Canoe and went ashore where I had got before them Just ready to set out plant gathering; they seizd their arms in an instant, and taking fire from under a pitch kettle which was boiling they began to set fire to the grass to windward of the few things we had left ashore with surprizing dexterity and quickness; the grass which was 4 or 5 feet high and as dry as stubble burnt with vast fury. A Tent of mine which had been put up for Tupaia when he was sick was the only thing of any consequence in the way of it so I leapd into a boat to fetch some people from the ship in order to save it . . . The Captn in the meantime followd the Indians to prevent their burning our Linnen and the Seine [net] which lay on the grass just where they were gone . . . We had great reason to thank our good Fortune that this accident happned so late in our stay, not a week before this our powder which was put ashore when first we came in had been taken on board . . .

As the fully repaired Endeavour was at last prepared for sea the pinnace was again sent out, but was again unable to find a safe channel. Trying a different tack, Cook and Banks ventured a few miles northwards along the coast on 18 July to climb a high hill in order to obtain an overview of the lay of the reefs. The extensive prospect was dramatic but afforded Cook ‘a melancholy prospect of the difficulties we are to encounter, for in whatever direction we looked it was cover’d with Shoals as far as the Eye could see’. Southeasterly gales blew up on 20 July to prevent a northwards departure until 4 August – time spent by Banks in adding to his collections. This was the dry season and an unfavourable time of year for botanising, yet in a remarkable achievement an examination of Solander’s unpublished Plantae Australiae (the descriptive catalogue of plants collected at 123

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Australia, see below, p. 135) reveals that Banks and Solander managed to find 348 species here, of which at least 310 were estimated to be new to science. The haul included hoop pine or Moreton Bay pine (Araucaria cunninghamii), yellowwood (Flindersia xanthoxyla), tulipwood (Harpullia pendula), sea hibiscus (Hibiscus tiliaceus), kangaroo grass (Themeda triandra) and red cedar (Toona ciliata), as well as species of Hoya, Schefflera and the coastal morning glory (Ipomea cairica) (now growing as a noxious weed in New South Wales, the latter is interestingly regarded as an introduction to Queensland, indicating it was brought here perhaps through trade between Malesian and Australian Aboriginal peoples). The escape out through ‘the Grand Reef ’ was necessarily cautious, slow and difficult; and nerves were once more on edge when on 7 August the Endeavour was nearly blown onto a shoal but once again was providentially spared from disaster. An anchorage was made at Lizard Island (11 to 12 August) to allow Cook and Banks to climb to the island’s peak in order to obtain another overview of the reef. Here Banks found a few new plants including northern bollygum or rose butternut (Blepharocarya involucrigera). At last, on the 13th the ship’s company was able to breathe a collective sigh of relief as the Endeavour passed through an opening in the reef (Cook’s Passage) and into open seas beyond. Banks no doubt captured the entire crew’s feelings when the next day he wrote: ‘For the first time these three months we were this day out of sight of Land to our no small satisfaction: that very Ocean which had formerly been look’d upon with terror by (maybe) all of us was now the Assylum we had long wishd for and at last found. Satisfaction was clearly painted in every mans face.’ His words, however, were premature, for the ship had yet another narrow escape on the 16th when the becalmed Endeavour was saved from being washed onto the outer reef by a combination of ocean swell and flood tide by an opportune breeze. This third misadventure on the reef ended when the ship passed through what Cook named Providential Channel and back within the reefs once again. After surveying some 2,000 miles of coast, Cape York was reached on 21 August and Cook put the Endeavour onto a westerly course through the Endeavour Strait. Anchoring at Possession Island, Cook repeated the formalities he had previously conducted at the Society Island of Raiatea on 124

HMS ENDEAVOUR 20 July 1769 and at the island of Motuara in Queen Charlotte Sound on 31 January 1770, when he claimed the explored lands for Britain. As recorded in his journal entry for 22 August he hoisted the ‘English Coulers’ and ‘in the Name of His Majesty King George the Third’ he ‘took posession of the whole Eastern Coast [of New Holland] . . . by the name of New South Wales, together with all the Bays, Harbours, Rivers and Islands situate upon the said coast, after which we fired three Volleys of small Arms which were Answerd by the like number from the Ship’. The significance of this undramatic ceremony cannot be underestimated. It marked the genesis of the acquisition and subsequent colonisation of what would become the British sovereign lands of Australia and New Zealand (Tahiti was to become a French colony) with all the tumultuous impacts – in many instances overwhelmingly negative for the indigenous peoples – that this would entail. Indeed, the ramifications of the British colonisation of the Antipodes continue to be felt today, and – as we will see in Chapter 7 – it was Banks who instigated the European settlement of New South Wales. Banks’s last Australasian plant hunting was conducted on Booby Island in Torres Strait on 23 August, but unlike a year earlier Banks did not celebrate the second anniversary of leaving Britain on the 25th. And as the Endeavour headed northwestwards, skirting the southwestern coast of New Guinea, he composed his twenty-five-page ‘Some account of that part of New Holland now called New South Wales’. The topics range over Australian Aboriginal peoples (‘I much wishd indeed to have had better opportunities of seeing and observing the people’), natural history and a generally unenthusiastic description of the country, in particular the scarcity of water, the poor soil (‘so barren’) and general lack of ‘useful plants’.

VI BATAVIA, HOME AND OUTCOMES Much to the relief of all onboard the Endeavour was at last homeward bound, a journey that would take just over ten months with six stops en route. The first 125

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS was a landing made on 3 September near De Jong’s Point on the west coast of New Guinea (in present-day Western New Guinea, part of Indonesia) but cut short because, in spite of the landing party of ‘12 men well armd’, the reception from the local people was hostile. Nonetheless Banks recorded twenty-three species of plant, all but two known to him. Cook now plotted a course west for Java, an event which Banks interestingly noted had a positive impact on crew morale. As Banks observed (also in his entry for 3 September) by this time the ‘greatest part’ of the company was ‘pretty far gone with the longing for home which the Physicians have gone so far as to esteem a disease under the name of Nostalgia’. But now they knew they were in known waters, with no new lands to discover nor surveying to delay them, the ‘sick became well and the melancholy lookd gay’. For the next week Banks was kept busy observing, and out in his boat shooting birds: Wilson’s storm petrel (Oceanites oceanicus), red-footed booby (Sula piscator) and probably the lesser frigate bird (Fregata ariel) and red-tailed tropicbird (Phaethon rubricauda). The island of Timor was sighted on the 10th and next day the whole ship dined on a couple of sharks. Passing through the Roti Strait between Roti and Timor on the night of the 16th, Banks was privileged to observe a natural phenomenon uncommonly seen at this low latitude, a display of the aurora australis, the southern lights. Between ten o’clock and midnight, when he went to bed, he witnessed a dull reddish light reaching in hight about 20 degrees above the Horizon: its extent was very different at different times but never less than 8 or 10 points of the compass. Through and out of this passd rays of a brighter colourd light tending directly upwards; these appeard and vanishd nearly in the same time as those of the Aurora Borealis, but were entirely without that trembling or vibratory motion observd in that Phaenomenon . . .

The next day the island of Savu was sighted, and for the first time since departing Rio de Janeiro twenty-one months previously people were spied ashore wearing European dress. Contact was made and directions given to a bay, ‘which we stood in hoisting a Jack on the foretopmast head. Soon after to our no 126

HMS ENDEAVOUR small surprize Duch Colours were hoisted in the town and 3 guns fird.’ The island was under the control of the Dutch East India Company and before revictualling was permitted permission was sought from the Company’s representative on the island, Johan Christopher Lange (of German birth, he was in fact governor in all but name). Banks noted on the 18th that a number of the crew were sick and that they were seeking to trade for fresh greens and the palm wine, which it was hoped would have ‘antescorbutick virtues’, indicates an outbreak of scurvy aboard. But trading required placatory gifts: the last of the ship’s sheep and Banks’s greyhound went to the local rajah, and a ‘spying glass’ to Lange. Four days of civilities and hospitality followed, and from his journal one also senses Banks’s delight at once again experiencing European culture – albeit with an East Indian flavour. Yet it was Solander’s quick talking that prevented a diplomatic incident when an imprudent Parkinson asked for too many details about the local spices. The valuable trade in cloves, mace and nutmeg was the main reason why the Dutch were here; such questions were neither welcome nor tactful at a time when the British and Dutch East India Companies were trading rivals in this part of the world. With no botanising to be done nor specimens to be collected, on the 20 September Banks set about preparing his by-now expected ‘account’ of ‘every trifling circumstance’ of an island that was of ‘great consequence to the Duch and scarce known to any other Europaeans even by name’. In many ways this was a detailed intelligence briefing and he expended as much ink on his twenty-five-page report of the four days spent at Savu as he did for the four months spent at Australia. With Cook assured that the easterly monsoon would prevail for a couple of months longer and sufficient supplies purchased (including ‘8 Buffeloes, 30 Dzn of fowls, 6 sheep, 3 hogs’), the Endeavour departed on the morning of 21 September for Batavia. The course was west, off the southern Javanese coast, thence north through the Sunda Strait to anchor in Batavia Road on the afternoon of 9 October. Along the way two Dutch East Indiamen ships were hailed, and the first news of Britain in over two years received: the outbreak of rioting over John Wilkes’s election as member of Parliament for Middlesex and his subsequent 127

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS expulsion from the House of Commons; the refusal of the Americans ‘to pay taxes of any kind in consequence of which was a large force being sent there both of sea and land forces’; and the train of events which led up to the first partition of Poland in 1772. THE CITY OF DEATH AND MORE DEATH AT SEA

The Endeavour had proven herself a sturdy and reliable workhorse but by now she was much in need of a major refit. Eleven weeks were passed at Batavia (now Jakarta), the capital city of the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), during which time she was re-rigged, her sails mended and her bottom fixed – it was so damaged by worm and ‘cut by the rocks’ that in many places the planking was a mere eighth-of-an-inch thick. But this was not a joyful time for the crew. Batavia had a well-earned bad reputation as a city of pestilence, and Banks’s journal entries are intermittent, with some written at some time after the events described. In his first entry ashore on 10 October, he noted that ‘Ever since our first arrival here we had been universaly told of the extreme unwholesomeness of the place’, adding that by the end of the month ‘in short every one on shore and Many on board were ill’. With Solander very sick, Banks despaired for the lives of poor Tupaia and Tayeto; on 30 October he himself was ‘seizd with a tertian [malarial fever], the fits of which were so violent as to deprive me intirely of my senses and leave me so weak as scarcely to be able to crawl down stairs’. As before in Newfoundland he self-administered ‘the Bark’ (quinine), and taking the advice of Dr Jaggi, the physician attending him, rented a house 2 miles outside the city, a place with fresh air that became a convalescent hospital for him and others of the crew. Until now the loss of life aboard had been relatively low (indeed, having lost three of his team, percentage-wise Banks had suffered the most). But Batavia brought about the death of seven unfortunate men, all of whom succumbed to malaria, including Tupaia, Tayeto and the surgeon Monkhouse. In spite of the deaths of his friends and colleagues the ever-conscientious Banks had penned a thirty-seven-page ‘Some account of Batavia’. Appearing between the entries for 24 and 25 December the topics he addressed included a discourse on the town itself, its fortifications, harbour, architecture and Dutch 128

HMS ENDEAVOUR rule; the agriculture, spice trade and a somewhat disparaging analysis of the thirty-six types of fruit in season at the time of their visit. Glad to be leaving this unwholesome place, and with no reasons for celebration, the Endeavour set sail for the Cape of Good Hope on Christmas Day 1770, the crew’s third away from home. Their departure was slow, however, delayed by seeking out a missing seaman and only light breezes, and it was not until the 28th that they were properly on their way. New Year’s Day 1771 passed similarly uncelebrated, with Banks’s journal entry more concerned with Solander’s discovery that the cause of the plagues of mosquitoes which had ‘unacountably troubled’ him aboard was the water casks, which were infested with mosquito larvae. Cook then stopped at Princes Island (4 to 14 January) as Cook put it in his journal for 6 January, ‘in order to recrute our wood and water and to procure refreshments for the People which are now in a much worse state of hilth then when we left Batavia’. The eight-week passage from here west southwest across the Indian Ocean to Cape Town was to be deeply traumatic and distressing; twenty-two of the crew were to die before the Endeavour came into harbour. Banks’s fever returned on 13 January, and by the 17th he had a ‘fever every day’, by which time many of the crew had begun to ‘complain of purgings’. On the 23rd, the Marine Corporal Truslove, ‘a man much esteem’d by every one on board’, was the first to die. Banks was to record at least one death every day for the next seven days, a total of twelve for the week. This doleful role call included Spöring on the 24th, Parkinson the next day, and the astronomer Green on the 28th – all of the ‘flux attended’ that Banks suffered from the 23rd, which notwithstanding the opiates he self-administered caused ‘excrutiating pains in my bowels’. This was in all likelihood typhoid, the cause of which Cook believed was the water fatefully taken on at Princes Island to replace the larvae-ridden Batavian water. During the course of February the horror continued, with twelve dying, including the carpenter John Satterley, whose skills and hard work had been instrumental in saving the ship and making her seaworthy again at Endeavour River. As a journal-keeper Banks mostly comes across as impersonal – after all, the aim and purpose of a man of science is to dispassionately observe, record and analyse; but he also possessed a humanitarian, sensitive side to his character, 129

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS particularly when it came to the loss of life. Take, for example, his emotional entry following the Ma¯ori deaths in Poverty Bay (see above, p. 102). With so much sickness, death and tragedy in such close proximity, and with friends and colleagues with whom he had worked and lived so closely for two and a half years consigned to the deep on a daily basis, it would have been surprising had he (and the rest of the crew) not suffered some form of traumatic stress. Weak from illness, no doubt anxious about falling sick again, mourning those who had died, perhaps in fear for his own life, and reaching the limit of his capacity for shipboard life, Banks seems to have become numbed to his journal keeping. His intermittent February entries are minimal and occasionally confused (a comparison of journals also reveals that he mixed up dates and events), and unsurprisingly he appeared to have lost all pleasure in recording the life going on around him in the air and in the water. The entries are in essence a catalogue of death. CAPE TOWN AND HOME

After dropping anchor on 14 March, the Endeavour spent exactly a month at Cape Town and for two of those weeks Solander was once again worryingly ill. Banks produced his by now expected ‘Some account of the Cape of Good Hope’which appears between the successive journal entries for 7 and 14 April. It is an insightful analysis of the ‘town and its environs’ and the ‘Hottentot’ (Khoikhoi) people, but makes no reference to the natural history in general nor the flora specifically which he must have encountered if not collected. With rumours swirling that Britain and Spain were about to declare war over the sovereignty of the Falkland Islands, Cook sailed for Saint Helena, exercising the crew at the guns just in case. Sickness continued to bedevil the Endeavour: the ship’s master Molyneux died shortly after leaving the Cape, where three sailors had also passed away; the last to succumb was Lieutenant Hicks, to tuberculosis, on 25 April. The total death toll for the voyage was forty-one: three drownings, three from consumption, three from alcohol (compounded in two cases by exposure), one from epilepsy, and thirty-one from malaria and typhoid. Of Banks’s party of nine, only he, Solander, Briscoe and Roberts lived to tell the tale. 130

HMS ENDEAVOUR Banks’s maudlin frame of mind seems to have continued, for even the significant event of achieving their circumnavigation on 28 April receives nothing more than the flat sentence: ‘This day we crossd our first meridian and Compleated the Circumnavigation of the Globe.’ At Saint Helena Road, where the anchor was dropped on 1 May, Cook found HMS Portland, a dozen British East Indiamen under her protection and the just arrived HMS Swallow, bearing news that war had been averted. Nevertheless, Cook decided to sail for home with the fleet, which permitted Banks but a brief day’s botanising before the Endeavour was underway again on 4th. In his ‘Some account of St Helena’, Banks again displayed his humanitarian side, expressing a moral disgust for slavery and the ‘frequent and more wanton Cruelty were excercisd by my countrey men over these unfortunate people’. Ascension Island was sighted on 10 May but no landing was made. Banks’s journal for this last leg of the voyage continues to suggest that he had had enough, had lost interest and just wanted to get home. The entries are no more than short notes of a line or two commenting on the bad weather, an unusual sighting of ‘Gulph weed’ (seaweed of the genus Sargassum from the Sargasso Sea), the occasional bird spotted, ships seen. Even the death of his faithful dog, the ‘Bitch Lady’ on 4 July, did not warrant any eulogy. On 12 July Cook dropped anchor in the Downs off the east Kent coast. With a final flourish of misspelling, Banks anticlimactically concluded his journal: ‘At 3 O’Glock landed at Deal.’ A year to the day later, Banks would set sail on his next – and final – scientific voyage. The interim was to be a tumultuous twelve months spent busily engaged in a number of projects, the dearest of which was his attempt to join Cook on his second circumnavigation. It was to be a year that would bring him fame, scientific kudos and the friendship of the king, but also public derision and angry resentment. And when, on 12 July 1772, Cook departed Plymouth with a course plotted southward, Banks would be at Gravesend about to sail down the River Thames, his intended destination to the north. SO MANY ACHIEVEMENTS & RESULTS

Of the survivors of Banks’s team, Solander continued to work for and with Banks until his premature death in 1782, aged 49. He was instrumental in much 131

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of the work carried out after their return in identifying, naming and illustrating specimens. Peter Briscoe remained Banks’s faithful servant, while James Roberts subsequently became a grocer. Both men share a memorial tablet in St Botolph’s Church in Boston, Lincolnshire. Upon his return Banks received numerous visitors – scientists and the cream of society – all hoping to be amazed by tales of the voyage and the sight of the curiosities and collections. The essence of the excitement and the spectacle was captured by the Rev. William Sheffield, the newly appointed keeper of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford in a letter to the noted naturalist Gilbert White dated 2 December 1772 – a year on, by which time the collections were more settled. The description is worth quoting in full: My next scene of entertainment was in New Burlington Street at Mr Banks’s. Indeed it was an invitation from this gentleman that carried me there; it would be absurd to attempt a particular description of what I saw there; it would be attempting to describe within the compass of a letter what can only be done in several folio volumes. His house is a perfect museum; every room contains an inestimable treasure. I passed almost a whole day there in the utmost astonishment, could scarce credit my senses. Had I not been an eyewitness of this immense magazine of curiosities, I could not have thought it possible for him to have made a twentieth part of the collection. I have excited your curiosity; I wish to gratify it; but the field is so vast and my knowledge so superficial that I dare not attempt particulars. I will endeavour to give you a general catalogue of three large rooms. First the armoury; this room contains all the warlike instruments, mechanical instruments and utensils of every kind, made use of by the Indians in the South Seas from Terra del Fuego to the Indian Ocean . . . It may be observed here that the Indians in the South Seas were entire strangers to the use of iron before our countrymen and Monsieur Bougainville arrived among them; of course these instruments of all sorts are made of wood, stone, and some few of bone. They are equally strangers to the other metals; nor did our adventurers find the natives of this part of the globe possessed 132

HMS ENDEAVOUR of any species of wealth which would tempt the polite Europeans to cut their throats and rob them. The second room contains the different habits and ornaments of the several Indian nations they discovered, together with the raw materials of which they are manufactured. All the garments of the Otaheite Indians and the adjacent islands are made of the inner bark of the Morus pyrifera [paper mulberry, Broussonetia papyrifera] and of the bread tree Chitodon altile [breadfruit, Artocarpus altilis]; this cloth, if it may be so called, is very light and elegant and has much the appearance of writing paper, but is more soft and pliant; it seems excellently adapted to these climates. Indeed most of these tropical islands, if we can credit our friend’s description of them, are terrestrial paradises. The New Zealanders, who live in a much higher southern latitude, are clad in a very different manner. In the winter they wear a kind of mats made of a particular species of Cyperus grass. In the summer they generally go naked, except a broad belt about their loins made of the outer fibres of the cocoa nut, very neatly plaited; of these materials they make their fishing lines, both here and in the tropical isles. When they go upon an expedition or pay or receive visits of compliment, the chieftains appear in handsome cloaks ornamented with tufts of white dog’s hair; the materials of which these cloaks are made are produced from a species of Hexandria plant very common in New Zealand, somewhat resembling our hemp but of a finer harl and much stronger, and when wrought into garments is as soft as silk: if the seeds of this plant thrive with us, as probably they will, this will perhaps be the most useful discovery they made in the whole voyage. But to return to our second room. Here is likewise a large collection of insects, several fine specimens of the bread and other fruits preserved in spirits; together with a compleat hortus siccus of all the plants collected in the course of the voyage. The number of plants is about 3000, 110 of which are new genera, and 1300 new species which were never seen or heard of before in Europe. What raptures must they have felt to land upon countries where every thing was new to them! whole forests of nondescript trees clothed with the most beautiful flowers and foliage, and these too inhabited by several curious species of birds equally strangers to 133

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS them. I could be extravagant upon this topic; but it is time to pay our compliments to the third apartment. This room contains an almost numberless collection of animals; quadrupeds, birds, fish, amphibia, reptiles, insects and vermes, preserved in spirits, most of them new and nondescript. Here I was most in amazement and cannot attempt any particular description. Add to these the choicest collection of drawings in Natural History that perhaps ever enriched any cabinet, public or private: 987 plants drawn and coloured by Parkinson; and 1300 or 1400 more drawn with each of them a flower, a leaf, and a portion of the stalk, coloured by the same hand; besides a number of other drawings of animals, birds, fish, etc. and what is more extraordinary still, all the new genera and species contained in this vast collection are accurately described, the descriptions fairly transcribed and fit to be put to the press. Thus I have endeavoured to give you an imperfect sketch of what I saw in New Burlington Street; and a very imperfect one it is . . .57

The physical outcome of the three-year voyage was indeed immense. Banks was the first scientist of any consequence to voyage and explore in the Southern Hemisphere, and his huge collections of plants, shells (Plate 17), insects and bottled zoological specimens, together with the reams of notes and drawings, provided scientists with a rich variety of new material. Difficulties of preserving zoological specimens against putrefaction and damage combined with finite volumes of embalming liquids aboard meant that the animal collection was not very well represented (nor has it survived so well, with all but the arthropods and some of the molluscs now lost). It totalled slightly more that 1,000 taxa: c. 370 arthropods, c. 248 fishes, c. 206 molluscs, c. 107 birds, thirty medusae, nine salps, six echinoderms, five mammals, and some others. The botanical collection, which has weathered the ravages of time far better, numbered some 30,300 specimens, comprising 3,607 species, of which about 1,400 in 110 genera were new to science.58 Solander’s matching nine botanical manuscript volumes provided rich detail. This was a major addition to botanical knowledge at a time when Linnaeus’s Species Plantarum listed only 6,000 taxa. 134

HMS ENDEAVOUR The manuscript and natural history graphic outcomes are both also held in the Library and Archive of the Natural History Museum, London. Solander’s unpublished plant descriptions made during the voyage are bound in six small quarto volumes: Plantae Terrae del Fuego (January 1769), Plantae Insulae Sanctae Helenae (May 1771), Plantae Otaheitenses et aliarum ins. Oceani Pacifici (April to July 1769), Plantae Australiae (N. Zeelandia) (October 1769 to March 1770), Plantaes Novae Hollandiae (April to August 1770), in two volumes, and Plantae Javanenses (October 1770 to January 1771). In anticipation of publication Solander subsequently prepared systematically arranged transcripts of the descriptions for Tierra del Fuego, Madeira (September 1768), Rio de Janeiro, the Pacific Islands and, in part, Java. The manuscript Primitiae Florae Nov Zeelandiae also survives. The twenty-one volumes of illustrations are testament to the industry of Sydney Parkinson, with lesser contributions by Buchan and Spöring. Their sketches and watercolour drawings brought back to London were worked up by other artists under Banks’s direction, and the originals and finished works are now held together. The botanical works comprise ‘about 260 finished paintings signed by Parkinson and 16 unsigned, with about 676 unsigned sketches’, together with proof copies from the subsequent engraved plates (made for Banks’s intended Florilegium, see below, pp. 136, 180–1).59 The zoological works by all three artists named above are collected in three folio volumes with ‘83 finished paintings signed by Parkinson and one signed by Buchan, 87 finished but unsigned paintings, and 125 unfinished and unsigned’.60 What is missing, however, is a record of land birds. Indeed, there is only one, Parkinson’s sketch of the Banksian cockatoo (also known as the red-tailed black cockatoo, Calyptorhynchus banksii), made at the Endeavour River. Both Banks and Parkinson make reference in their journals to other birds collected, and it would appear that a folio of bird sketches has been lost. The British Museum Library holds a further five volumes of mostly landscapes and ethnographic subjects – both the drawings and subsequent renderings by Banks’s artists – with over half of the 400 originals by Parkinson.61 The Endeavour botanical collection became a cornerstone of Banks’s private herbarium which he supplemented over time by the purchase of various others, including those of Philip Miller (1774) and two Dutch botanists, Nikolaus von 135

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Jacquin (1777) and Paul Hermann (1793) (in December 1783 he decided against purchasing the Linnaean collection). In the coming years Banks would be perennially generous with access to this and his other collections to scientists irrespective of nationality, and he corresponded extensively with scientists from numerous nations. Yet it was always a matter of national pride that it was a collection made by a Briton being studied, that it was advances made by British scientists that Banks communicated abroad. Banks bequeathed his herbarium to the Natural History Museum, London where it laid the foundation for the General Herbarium, which today holds over 2 million specimens and 110,000 nomenclaturally important type specimens from all over the world (except for those of Britain and Ireland, which are held in their own herbarium). Today’s botanists are fully aware of the historical significance of the Endeavour collection but in spite of Banks making his specimens freely available for study during his lifetime the outcomes were not widely disseminated, and as such the collection contains few type specimens. This is quite simply because Banks did not publish his outcomes: he has therefore been accused of scientific negligence. Perhaps the most significant failure was his planned magnum opus, a fourteen-folio volume Florilegium of the Endeavour expedition that would have cemented his international reputation as a botanical scientist and natural historian. But despite substantial investments of money, time and expertise in its preparation, it never appeared in Banks’s lifetime (see below, pp. 180–1). Indeed, the first of his journals to appear in print – the Endeavour record – was published (albeit in mangled form) 76 years after his death, 125 years after the Endeavour’s return; both his Newfoundland and Iceland journals remained unpublished until the 1970s and that covering his travels in the Netherlands until 2005. It is hard to believe, but of the eight journals he kept some still remain unpublished to this day. That having been said, scientists continue to work on his natural history collections as well as his collections of indigenous artefacts, and his written anthropological notes. Not only are these an important historical record, but it is arguable that because of them Banks may be called the father of ethnography. In fact, the Endeavour had not been the first ship involved in a voyage of discovery to the South Seas carrying a naturalist. That honour is accorded to the 136

HMS ENDEAVOUR French vessel Boudeuse under Bougainville, with whom sailed Philibert Commerson, a Frenchman eminent in botany, and which at the moment of the Endeavour’s departure in 1768 was making its way towards the Moluccas, having crossed the Pacific by way of Tahiti, the New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands. This was just one example of the France of the day usurping Britain’s position as the world’s leading scientific nation. However, the success of the Endeavour voyage boosted the public profile of science, elevating it to a matter of national pride enthusiastically supported by an approving King George III. In the coming years Banks was to become dedicated to the pursuance of establishing Britain’s primacy within the international scientific community. For him the voyage had been an epiphany, proving beyond doubt the many exciting opportunities and rewarding possibilities for advancing natural history by means of exploration. And one of the ways in which he advanced the natural sciences in Britain (and thus internationally) was by establishing a new paradigm, whereby a team of scientists and artists became a requisite component of maritime voyages of discovery and land-based expeditions. He also became an influential advocate of suitable destinations including the Pacific Northwest, Africa, the Arctic and Australia; and in each case he was instrumental in the planning, concerning himself with – among other details – the scientific objectives, the staffing, and detailed operational instructions. This was recognised both by Captain Wharton who, in the first paragraph of the Preface to his edited issue of Cook’s journal (1893), accorded to the Endeavour expedition the honour of being ‘to the English nation the most momentous voyage of discovery that has ever taken place’.62 Indeed, a red thread can be drawn directly between Banks’s pioneering research paradigm and the hugely influential works of fellow voyaging natural historians in the nineteenth century, including Charles Darwin in HMS Beagle (1831–36) and Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker in HMS Erebus (1839–43). The thread continues through the twentieth century with, for example, the Discovery Expedition of 1901–04 (officially, the British National Antarctic Expedition) led by Robert Falcon Scott in RRS Discovery, and into the twenty-first century with the launch of bespoke research vessels, for example RRS Sir David Attenborough in 2018. 137

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS A direct line can be drawn, too, connecting Banks’s botanical collecting with the policy of global plant hunting which he later developed and oversaw as the unofficial director of the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew and which is explored in Chapter 6. Moreover, at various places visited, for example at Tahiti and New Zealand, Banks had encountered a range of plants used by indigenous peoples as commodities, for instance breadfruit and New Zealand flax. It is clear too, that the Endeavour voyage sowed the seed in his mind of the potential economic rewards to be reaped from the acquisition and transfer of commodity plants to existing British colonies. From here it was only a small mental leap to contemplate bringing those new lands where the plants grew into the British sphere of influence. As time was to prove, Banks was a dedicated colonial expansionist, something that was recognised by Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker, who in the Preface of his edited issue of Banks’s Endeavour journal (1896) not only quoted Wharton (see above) but added that Banks ‘directly led to the prosperity of the Empire’ through the colonisation of Australia.63 Thus, in addition to the vast collections of new specimens to work on and the immediate fame that the return of the Endeavour brought him, as Banks would in later life himself acknowledge, the voyage gave him long-term influence. And what of the Endeavour herself? After her epic circumnavigation she was largely forgotten: for three years she was used as a naval transport sailing to and from the Falkland Islands before being sold into private hands in 1775. Later repaired and renamed Lord Sandwich, she was hired as a British troop transport during the American Revolutionary War before being scuttled as part of a blockade of Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island in 1778. As of 2019 her wreck has not been precisely located but is thought to be one of a cluster of five discovered at the bottom of Newport Harbour.

138

FOUR 

The Hero and the Egotist 1771–72

Immediately after the return of the Endeavour, Banks hurried home to London from Kent while the ship sailed round the south coast, anchoring at Galleon’s Reach in the River Thames on 18 July 1771, from where Banks’s collections and equipment were transported to 14 New Burlington Street. After three years living cheek-by-jowl with the same people on a small ship, according to day-today naval routines and with a self-disciplined work schedule, plunging head-first back into the hurly-burly of London society must have come as a shock. Banks gave an indication of his whirling mind in a letter to Thomas Pennant of 13 July, the day after he got home: ‘In a few days I shall be able to write more understandibly now I am Mad Mad Mad My poor brain whirls round with innumerable [things] which the return to my native countrey have excited as soon as I enjoy a lucid interval I will write again.’1 The public and scientific community had been forewarned of the Endeavour’s impending return: Parkinson’s letters from Batavia to his family and Dr John Fothergill (he who had sent Banks the American apples he had enjoyed in a pie aboard the Endeavour – see above, p. 97) had arrived in May, and other communications had been sent from Cape Town. Nonetheless there was great excitement and curiosity, with the expedition roundly proclaimed a huge success. Admittedly the illusive Southern Continent had not been discovered, but its hypothesised position had been disproven; the transit of Venus had been observed; Cook had surveyed and filled in many blanks on the chart of the South 139

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Seas, and as expected of a naval officer on a voyage of discovery, had claimed great tracts of land for the king. The dashing civilian Banks had made an accomplished examination of the natural history of lands and the anthropology of peoples previously unstudied, returning triumphant bearing a wealth of specimens and knowledge. Perhaps because of Banks’s social status, the fevered press snobbishly gave its verdict that it was he (and to a lesser extent Solander), and not the working-class Cook, who was solely and wholly responsible for the successes. For example, the London Evening Post of 23 July ludicrously insisted that Banks and Solander had visited some forty islands, had discovered a Southern Continent near ‘the Spice Islands’ and had survived an expedition so dangerous that it had killed seventy of the crew. Another newspaper referred ridiculously to the man who had led the expedition as ‘Lieutenant Cook, of the Royal Navy, who sailed round the Globe with Messrs Solander, Banks etc.’ Banks was elevated to celebrity status, lionised and feted around town; while he surely delighted in the public (and scientific) attention, the obsequious flattery had – as we shall see (pp. 153–7) – a negative effect on his ego. On 25 July Banks attended the dining club of the General Meeting of the Royal Society (then called The Club of the Royal Philosophers and since 1795 the Royal Society Club) to which he had been elected in absentia in 1770, where he was undoubtedly the centre of attention; he received numerous congratulations and communications, including from Linnaeus; and there were endless invitations and society dinner parties to attend. His fame received a further gloss when on 2 August he was presented by Lord Beauchamp to King George III at the Court of St James’s, and again, this time accompanied by Solander (who gained his own celebrity as the first Swede to have circumnavigated the globe), at Richmond Palace on 10 August, when they were formally presented to the king and queen by Sir John Pringle (1707–82), the future president of the Royal Society. In another example of the overexcited and inaccurate reporting surrounding Banks was The Annual Register’s authoritative statement that at the audience Banks and Solander had presented the king ‘with a coronet of gold, set around with feathers, which was given them by a chief on the coast of Chili’.2 The meetings also marked the important start of a long and 140

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST close friendship between king and subject, which saw Banks become a royal favourite. On 18 August, Banks and Solander dined with Pringle and another highly respected Fellow of the Royal Society (whom, from 1773 the king would come to view as an enemy), Benjamin Franklin (1706–90); and, accompanied by Cook, the pair spent a few days with Banks’s good friend Lord Sandwich – now back in office as the first lord of the Admiralty – at his country residence of Hinchingbrooke House, Cambridgeshire. THE RETURNING HERO IS A CAD

Banks had been reunited with his family (Sarah Sophia, his unmarried sister had been living in his house during his absence), friends and colleagues, but one person whom he pointedly did not visit was Miss Harriet Blosset, the young lady to whom he was supposed to be betrothed. It is impossible to guess Banks’s reasons, but perhaps the most obvious that suggests itself is the correct one: quite simply his affections for her had cooled – if indeed he had ever been in love. It may also have been his feelings were focused elsewhere. There is no doubt, however, that Banks handled the situation very badly. In her journal for 14 August, Lady Mary Coke (1727–1811) set the scene with this sardonic appraisal: I saw Mr. Morrice this morning . . . He was excessively drole according to custom, and said he hoped Mr Banks, who since his return has desired Miss Blosset will excuse his marrying her, will pay her for the materials of all the work’d waistcoats She made for him during the time he was sailing round the World. Everybody agrees that She passed those three years in retirement, but whether She imploy’d herself in working waistcoats for Mr Banks I can’t tell you, but if She loved him I pity her disappointment . . .3

Writing the same day to Thomas Pennant, the lawyer, antiquarian and naturalist Daines Barrington (c. 1727–1800) confirmed that for a week or so after his return Banks had ignored Harriet while ‘he went about London & visited other friends & acquaintance’.4 Some authors have attributed Banks’s avoiding 141

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Harriet as indicative of his being shy of conflict, but on the whole Banks was the opposite, a proactive communicator with a natural inclination towards solving problems through persuasion, building consensus through discussion and advancing ideas through dialogue. Which begs the question, why did he not in this case? Embarrassment perhaps, and the knowledge that by reneging on his promise he was going to hurt Harriet badly? According to Barrington, Harriet, who throughout the unpleasantries behaved with far more decorum and maturity than Banks, went to London and demanded ‘an interview of explanation’. The spineless Banks answered with prevaricating letter ‘of 2 or 3 sheets professing love &c but that he found he was of too volatile a temper to marry’. An interview did subsequently take place during which ‘Miss Bl: swoon’d &c’. A fragment of a second undated letter to Pennant sheds more light: Barrington had the account from ‘a Lady’, who told him that the meeting lasted ‘from ten O’clock at Night to ten the next Morning during which he [Banks] said he was ready to marry her immediately’. But Harriet was no fool, and, realising that Banks was giving her a sop, ‘would not catch at this proposal’. Displaying a sensible grasp of realities and the stupidity of men, she told him that ‘if he was of the same mind a fortnight hence, she would gladly attend him to church’, but ‘Three or four days after’ a weaselling Banks ‘wrote her a letter desiring to be off ’. In his first letter Barrington was scathing in his view that Banks had acted in a most ungentlemanly fashion, describing his behaviour as ‘totally without excuse as he admits he gave Miss Bl: the strongest reason to expect he would return her husband’. If Banks had decided ‘he should not prove a good husband’, Barrington wrote, should he not have ‘immediately dispatch’d a Messenger on his landing with the best reasons he could muster for declining what he had so thoroughly settled? Should he not also have immediately plac’d in the Stocks & in Miss Blossets name a most noble satisfaction (as far as money could repair it) for this injury. And when he had done both these things could the satisfaction be otherwise than highly inadequate?’5 A ‘noble satisfaction’ was to be expected: at this time breaking off a betrothal was a serious matter. A promise of engagement to marry was considered a legally binding contract, and in backing out Banks 142

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST exposed himself to a ‘breach of promise’ suit – litigation for damages. Interestingly too, in both letters Barrington claimed that Banks acted upon the advice of a friend, and the Blossets blamed Solander. In the event it appears that Banks did pay off Harriet: the Reformed pastor and naturalist Johann Reinhold Forster (1729–98) wrote to the gossip-hungry Pennant on 13 August that ‘the Marriage with Miss Harriet Blosset is not to take place. & she is to have 5000£: this Dr Bosworth told me’.6 MORE UNPLEASANTRIES – THE PARKINSON AFFAIR

Banks ran into another unpleasantness that summer of 1771, this time concerning the voyage journal kept by the artist, the late Sydney Parkinson. Banks’s behaviour towards Harriet Blosset was considered by his peers to have been inexcusable; the way Banks dealt with Parkinson’s death further demonstrated that while he had matured as a scientist during his three years away, he had not done so as a man. Success and media exposure, it seems, had gone to his head: in modern parlance, the twenty-eight-year old had begun to believe his own publicity. This particular situation became a mess too because Banks handled it badly and behaved intemperately, like a prig. Before his death at sea on the way to Cape Town, Sydney Parkinson had asked Solander to ensure that his friend, the nurseryman James Lee, would have the view of his papers. He had also given Banks a copy of his will. Soon after his arrival in London, Banks passed the will to Parkinson’s executors, his brother Stansfield and mother Elizabeth. Elizabeth ceded all authority to Stansfield, who already that August may have been displaying symptoms of a mental illness that would see him confined to St Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics where he would die, insane, in 1773. Certainly his behaviour, an angry obsessive suspicion, bordering on paranoia, that Banks was trying to fiddle him out of his rightful inheritance, did nothing to make the situation calmer. Nor did Banks’s dismissive and neglectful attitude. Matters began peacefully enough when the pair met to arrange the inventory and transfer of Sydney’s belongings. Then Stansfield heard a rumour that Lee had been bequeathed Sydney’s papers, a rumour that Banks unfortunately and incorrectly confirmed. To add to Stansfield’s ire, Banks somewhat rudely placed 143

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the whole matter low on his list of priorities, and was careless and tardy in returning Sydney’s belongings. Stansfield’s resentment was exacerbated further when, at last, some – but not all – of the inventoried possessions arrived. He started to question Banks, sure that he was keeping his brother’s journal and papers for himself, and when called on by Banks to explain himself – a gentleman did not expect his word to be questioned – tempers flared. (Yet somewhat bizarrely, throughout all these quarrels Banks again employed Stansfield (an upholsterer) to carry out work at New Burlington Street, paying him a total of £89 8s 6d for his work between 20 July 1771 and 24 February 1772.) Weeks passed. Hearing nothing more from Banks, Stansfield applied for assistance to a fellow Quaker, the kindly Dr John Fothergill. By the end of January 1772 Fothergill, who had persuaded Stansfield not to go rashly to law, mediated a deal whereby Banks – who was by now sick of the whole matter and wanted a swift conclusion – would pay the Parkinson family £500. The sum composed of outstanding wages amounting to £151 8s 1d (Sydney’s annual salary had been £80), with the remainder a gratuity in recognition of Sydney’s ‘unbounded industry’ and ‘good services’. No doubt Sydney had served Banks well, but to hand over a bonus equivalent to more than four year’s pay was generous in the extreme, and a sign of how much Banks wanted the matter brought to an end. The settlement included caveats: Fothergill would receive some shells from Sydney’s collection of ‘curiosities’ (in fact he paid Stansfield more than twice their value); as well as retaining ownership of the papers and drawings, Banks would have his pick of the curiosities to complete his collections. Stansfield agreed to these, but said he wished to borrow his brother’s manuscripts (one wonders what an illiterate craftsman would want with them), a loan to which a reluctant Banks only agreed on Fothergill’s ill-considered personal pledge that no improper use would be made of them. Of course Stansfield, angry and by now quite unstable, and believing that Banks had cheated him over the curiosities (in a genuine misunderstanding Banks had kept all of them, rather than selecting only those he needed), had copies made and set out to make a profit by publishing the journal. A horrified Fothergill unsuccessfully attempted to prevent Stansfield, who had the notorious Grub Street hack and literary libeller William Kenrick 144

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST roughly edit the manuscript. Stansfield was eager to publish in order to cash in on the unabating public clamour for details about the Endeavour voyage, amply demonstrated in September 1771 by the unofficial, anonymously authored yet instant bestseller, A Journal of a Voyage round the World, in His Majesty’s Ship Endeavour, in the Years 1768, 1769, 1770, and 1771. (Cook had demanded that all journals kept by crew – but not those of the supernumeries including Banks and Parkinson – be handed to him before disembarkation, but someone had disobeyed orders. That someone was likely James Mario Matra, who subsequently became a correspondent of Banks concerning the establishment of a penal colony in New South Wales – see below, p. 234). The immediate publication of Sydney Parkinson’s journal was prevented only by an injunction taken out by Dr John Hawkesworth (c. 1715–73) from the Chancery, preventing Stansfield printing until after the issue of the official Admiralty account which he was to edit. This appeared over a year later, in June 1773, as An Account of the Voyage round the World . . . by Lieutenant James Cook Commander of His Majesty’s Bark the Endeavour, the second and third of three volumes of An Account of the Voyages Undertaken by the Order of His Present Majesty for Making Discoveries in the Southern Hemisphere. It is a turgid read, a disharmonious, derivative blend of the journals of both Cook and Banks (who unwisely gave Haweskworth carte blanche to use his account) by an author of good intentions but doubtful ability and good sense, and with little contact with the original journalists. Intended for the general, non-scientific reader the result is rather poorly penned. Banal and dull, it was generally badly received.7 That it generated so much critical derision and mockery was no doubt in part fuelled by its readers’ lack of understanding of what they were being told – particularly concerning the morals of the Tahitians. Nevertheless, some, including the satirical novelist, diarist and playwright Fanny Burney (1752–1840), claimed the litany of disparaging reviews was a direct cause of Hawkesworth’s premature death – certainly he did not live to enjoy his £6,000 fee. Parkinson’s Journal of a Voyage to the South Seas in HMS Endeavour appeared a month later in July; Fothergill, who felt his honour had been impeached, subsequently bought the 400 or so unsold copies, which were reissued in 1777 with eighteen pages 145

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of ‘Explanatory Remarks’ and a four page Postscript added by Fothergill on Kenrick’s preface. In addition to all this, Banks – albeit inadvertently – nearly committed a publishing faux pas himself. On 6 December 1771 he wrote a lengthy ‘abstract of my [Endeavour] Voyage, which I have so long promis’d you’ to his friend, the dashing French nobleman Louis-Léon-Félicité de Brancas, duc de Lauraguais (1733–1824).8 Banks was loyal to the Admiralty in making no official, public account of the voyage, but the count was not so scrupulous. Even though he knew the letter was private, Brancas, a confirmed pamphleteer, decided to print it. Catching wind of his plan, Banks ‘seized the impression and burn’d it’.9 That Banks forgave Brancas – the two men remained friends – suggests that Banks believed the count was over-enthusiastic and misguided, rather than looking to cash in on their friendship. In contrast, in November 1776 Banks was to break off all contact with the artist John Frederick Miller (see below, p. 180), whom he had employed for over five years, because Miller had published, without permission, some of the plant drawings he had been commissioned to make for Banks. A SECOND CIRCUMNAVIGATION?

Frustrating as the Parkinson situation was becoming and unpleasant as the swiftly concluded Blosset affair must have been – especially for the wronged Harriet – for Banks there were also pleasant matters to attend to. These must have taken his mind off the expensive and dysfunctional aspects of his life. Immediately upon the Endeavour’s return, speculation began to mount about a second expedition, specifically tasked to search for the Southern Continent and this time (partly for safety’s sake) involving two ships. This was the very thing Banks had advocated in his journal ‘Account’ of New Zealand, and wished for in the final paragraph of his abstract to Brancas (see above), when he had invoked the heady daydream: ‘O how Glorious would it be to set my heel upon ye Pole! and turn myself round 360 degrees in a second.’ He now had considerable personal experience of just how much scientific discovery could be made on a voyage of discovery and it was quite natural that he wished to be the expedition naturalist on this second voyage, and in this aspect 146

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST of his life he could not have been better positioned. His Endeavour successes were a matter of public record, he was favoured by the king, he was the darling of the press, the powerful first lord of the Admiralty was a close personal friend, and he continued to enjoy a warm relationship with Cook. Cook himself had been promoted master and commander by Sandwich, and would be honoured with an hour-long audience with the king on 14 August. Three days before he penned this friendly and appreciative missive to Banks: Dear Sir, Your very obliging letter was the first messenger that conveyed to me Lord Sandwich’s intentions. Promotion unsolicited to a man in my situation in life must convey a satisfaction to the mind that is better conceived than described – I had this morning the honour to wait upon his Lordship who renewed his promises, and in so obliging a manner as convinced me he approved of the Voyage. The reputation I may have acquired on this account by which I shall receive promotion calls to my mind the very great assistance I received therein from you which will ever be remembered with most grateful acknowledgements by Dear Sir Your most obliged Humble servt Jam[e]s Cook10

Early in the planning process Banks was indeed approached by Sandwich, an overture he recounted later in life in a ‘Statement’ given to his librarian and assistant Robert Brown: ‘Soon after my return from my voyage round the world I was solicited by Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the Admiralty, to undertake another voyage of the same nature. His solicitation was couched in the following words, “If you will go, we will send other ships.” So strong a solicitation, agreeing exactly with my own desires was not to be neglected. I accordingly answered that I was ready and willing.’11 The ever-excitable press began buzzing once more with factually incorrect rumours. If the Gazeteer and New Daily Advertiser of 26 August was to be believed, ‘Mr Banks is to have two ships from government to pursue his discoveries in the 147

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS South Seas, and will sail upon his second voyage next March’. More ill-informed still was the Westminster Journal with its authoritative claim the following week that the ‘celebrated Mr. Banks’ was to have three ships from the government to sail to Tahiti ‘in order to plant and settle a colony there’. The reality was that this time the Admiralty was in sole charge, and it acted with alacrity. The Navy Board was directed to buy two suitable vessels on 25 September, and Cook’s advice was naturally sought. He personally selected a pair of North Sea ‘cats’ built by the sea captain William Hammond, the shipbuilder in Hull who had built the Endeavour: the 462-ton Marquis of Granby and the 336-ton Marquis of Rockingham. Purchased in November, they were to be fitted out as sloops ready for departure in March 1772 and renamed HMS Drake and HMS Raleigh respectively. However, the Armada-inspired names were changed to the Resolution (commanded by Cook) and the Adventure (commanded by Tobias Furneaux) in order to not upset the Spanish, with whom war had recently been avoided and whose grievance at British presence in the Pacific, which they viewed as their domain, might be exacerbated by such provocatively named vessels. In December the Council of the Royal Society was officially informed of the Admiralty’s intent and the request made that the society draw up such scientific directions as they deemed proper and necessary. MANY COLLECTIONS BUT NO PUBLICATIONS

Thus, beginning that September of 1771 Banks had but six months or so to prepare for the voyage he wished to join, all amidst a public frenzy focussed on him that showed no signs of abating. Lady Mary Coke excitedly recorded in her journal that the Tahitian seeds were now germinating in James Lee’s Hammersmith nursery – indicating that Banks had returned with seed as well as herbarium specimens, and that the two men remained on good terms in spite of Lee being Harriet’s guardian. Banks continued to be bombarded with letters from all over Europe – scientists wanting favours and specimens or offering suggestions of topics to be studied en route, members of the public offering congratulations and advice, and solicitations from individuals and their sponsors wanting to join Banks’s team. In addition, there were the numerous visitors to New Burlington Street. 148

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST In Paris that October Bougainville published his account of his circumnavigation, Voyage autour du monde. It was a clear statement that Britain was not the only nation with voyaging scientists making new discoveries and it gave Banks an additional nationalistic impetus to Cook’s forthcoming voyage. As well as fulfilling the scientific opportunites for science’s sake, Banks was also determined that the discoveries be made by a British team in order that Britain might justly claim its place at the top of the international league of scientific nations. Nonetheless, the most important thing that Banks should have been doing that autumn was collating his Endeavour collections and revealing, through publication, his discoveries to a scientific community agog with anticipation. But there simply was not sufficient time for Banks to prepare and publish before the March 1772 deadline – much to the disappointment and frustration of Linnaeus, who had excitedly written to congratulate Banks and Solander (they impolitely took months to reply, Solander finally putting pen to paper on 1 December). The poor man, desperate to learn more about the botanical collections, bemoaned in a letter of 22 October to John Ellis that nothing would be done with the ‘matchless and astonishing’ collection before the pair departed once more, and fearful that the specimens would be ‘thrust into some corner, to become perhaps the prey of insects and of destruction’, begged Ellis ‘By all that is great and good . . . to do all that in you lies for the publication of these new acquisitions, that the learned world may not be deprived of them’.12 In this instance Banks’s impending departure was a valid short-term excuse for his failure to publish, but as events unfolded it no longer held, and Banks was to remain shockingly dilatory in publishing – when indeed he published at all. While he never considered himself an author – in 1807 he wrote in reply to H.F. Grenville’s asking him to join his Belles Lettres Society that ‘I am scarce able to write my own Language with Correctness, and never presumed to attempt Elegant Composition, Either in Verse or in Prose that or any other tongue’13 – this was no excuse, for he employed those who could. A NEW TEAM AND LOTS OF EQUIPMENT

Instead, throughout the autumn of 1771 Banks focussed his energies on preparing for the forthcoming adventure, in particular on recruiting and equipping a team. 149

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS With extra opportunities offered by the expanded capacity of two ships, and the Resolution 100 tons larger than the Endeavour, and mindful of opportunities unfulfilled because of the artist Alexander Buchan’s untimely death, Banks planned to recruit and fund a party of sixteen. The names and roles were given by Banks in his ‘Statement’ to Brown.14 Solander was to join him, of course, along with ‘four draughtsmen for natural history’: John Frederick Miller, his brother James Miller, John Cleveley, each to receive £100 a year. Although unnamed in the Statement, the fourth artist was John Zoffany, recruited on the promise of £1,000 for the voyage.15 Another royal favourite and a nominated member of the group of artists who founded the Royal Academy in 1768, it was Zoffany who may have painted the youthful portrait of Banks (see above, p. 11). There were to be two secretaries: Mr Waldon and the Dutchman Sigismund Bacstrom (‘Backstrom’ to Banks), who were also both to receive an annual salary of £100; and ‘nine servants and assistances all practiced and taught by myself to collecting preserve such objects of Natural History’. The record of salaries, which reveals that the party was to be split between the ships, with everyone except Cleveley and Bacstrom aboard the Resolution, names eight of them. The ever-loyal Peter Briscoe and the two French-horn players, John Marchant and Robert Holbrooke, were to be paid £40 a year; the servants James Roberts, John Asquith, Peter Sidserf and Nicholas Young, £20; while Sander (Alexander Samarang, whom Banks had engaged at Batavia) only £10. If Zoffany is removed from the list, this gave Banks an annual wages bill of £710 plus Solander’s salary and Zoffany’s fee.16 Banks wished to bolster the expedition’s research capabilities further with the addition of a couple of stellar scientists. Known to him through the Royal Society was the revered chemist Joseph Priestley (1733–1804), an outstanding experimental scientist who had invented soda water in 1767 and was to discover oxygen in 1774; Banks sought to recruit him as a nominee of the Board of Longitude. His application however was rejected on religious grounds because certain academic-clergymen on the Board objected to Priestley’s Unitarian beliefs. Priestley’s indignant letter to Banks upon hearing the news (dated 10 December 1771) revealed his disappointment and his anger at ‘minds so despicably illiberal’;17 the Board did appoint two astronomers, William Wales 150

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST and William Bayly. Banks was more successful with his petition to the government for a special grant of £4,000 to secure the services of the highly regarded Scottish physician (later to the royal household at Windsor), astronomer and natural philosopher Dr James Lind (1736–1812). In happy contrast to the Endeavour voyage, the equipment receipts for the Resolution survive.18 In a letter to Lord Sandwich of 30 May 1772,19 Banks claimed that he had spent ‘above £5000 of my own fortune on the equipment’; Beaglehole though calculates the amount from the receipts to be £2,317 4s 6½d.20 Beaglehole acknowledges that the list is all inclusive, but given the febrile tone of Banks’s letter – as we shall see – believed him to be deliberately over-exaggerating. Nevertheless, taking the known equipment costs together with the payoffs to Miss Blosset and Stansfield Parkinson, plus a multitude of other unlisted outlays, it was an expensive eight months for Banks. This for a man whom Solander in his belated reply to Linnaeus of 1 December noted spared himself no expense and had a disposable income of between £8,000 and £10,000 a year; Sir Everard Home in his 1822 Hunterian Oration claimed that Banks had to borrow that year in order to cover his costs.21 AN OXFORD DEGREE AT LAST, AND TWO PORTRAITS

An event late that busy autumn that must have given Banks an especial feeling of pride and sense of achievement was the summons, together with Solander, to Oxford University, where in the Sheldonian Theatre on 21 November both were awarded the honorary degree of doctor of civil law – the only degree Banks ever gained.22 Banks also found time in his hectic schedule to have his portrait painted, twice – and in both cases it appears the commission was paid for by his uncle Robert. He sat for the American-born Benjamin West (1738–1820) who in 1772 completed the first indisputable portrait of Banks. The painting (the cover of this book) is 92 by 63 inches in size, and shows Banks wearing a fine Ma¯ori cloak of New Zealand flax edged with dog fur. Of the fabric, Banks had written in his ‘Account of New Zealand’ (see above, p. 111): ‘Of the leaves of these plants with very little preparation all their common wearing apparel are made and all strings, lines 151

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS and cordage for every purpose, and that of a strength so much superior to hemp as scarce to bear a comparison with it. The Finest cloaths are made with the extracted fibres, snow white and shining almost as silk and likewise surprisingly strong.’ To his right, ethnographic artefacts brought back from the voyage are depicted, including a Ma¯ori taiaha (carved fighting-staff ) and a canoe paddle; to his left on the floor are more objects, including a large Polynesian adze and, catching the light, a folio of plant illustrations. The setting is in strong contrast to the traditional Grand Tour portraits of the time brought back from Italy as souvenirs: by replacing classical ruins with unusual anthropological objects from another hemisphere West depicted not a European tourist but an international scientific adventurer. The adventurer’s face is a little plump, certainly (and is the cloak held in front of him hiding his paunch?). Nevertheless it is a friendly face, one interested in the observer and with the suggestion of an infectious smile.23 Banks sat for Sir Joshua Reynolds in November and December 1771 (and again in January, February and March 1772, with a final sitting in March 1773) and this smaller portrait of 50 by 40 inches is regarded as one of Reynolds’s finest, long admired for its intellectualism, power and energy; Reynolds’s biographers somewhat gushingly concluding that ‘no painter could have so expressed the hungry heart of a man smitten with the passion of exploring and inquiring, unless he had felt a deep and intelligent sympathy with his sitter’ (Plate 19).24 Reynolds may well have done so, for the two men were known to one another: Reynolds’s pocket books reveal he visited Banks (and Solander) at the British Museum, and both were Fellows of the Royal Society and the Club of the Royal Philosophers (see above, p. 140). The richly dressed subject is handsome, calm and authoritative but with an undercurrent of lively energy. A man of action, albeit one with a paunch, but Reynolds more so than West also caught a hint of impatience and petulance in Banks’s expression. He sits at a desk, his left forearm resting on a pile of letters, the top one bearing an inscription, the Horatian tag Cras Ingens Iterabimus Aequor (‘Tomorrow we set out once more upon the boundless main’). Taken together with the distant prospect of seascape and the globe which dominates the desk, the allegorical message is clear – this is a man of past and future exploits, a man who knows his destiny.25 152

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST BANKS THE EGOTIST

Banks spent Christmas and New Year 1772 at Revesby Abbey enjoying festive cheer, putting estate matters in order, making arrangements for his next years away, and, before returning to London, receiving the freedom of the town of Boston. But the expedition was always very much at the forefront of his mind and in a letter to his friend Thomas Falconer from Brampton, Lincolnshire dated 7 January 1772 when plans were more advanced, Banks expounded on the anticipated route and objective. The aim, he wrote, was to reverse our last track Keeping to the Eastward from the Cape by Van Diemens Land & new Holland: we are to Sail from thence towards the South Pole in order to [see if the] immence portion of our Globe in that [Quarter is Land] or Water: if Land tis the new Con[tinent that] has so long been the desideratum of discover[ers]: [if] water why may we not penetrate to the [Pole] as Ice has been Observd no where in Large [quantity] . . .26

As the countdown continued and pressures mounted, Banks finally got to dine with the celebrated writers and friends Samuel Johnson (1709–84) and James Boswell (1740–95): Johnson at the end of February 1772, and Boswell a month later on 22 March. It was Johnson who, at Banks’s behest, penned the celebrated distich in honour of the Endeavour’s goat. After three years on the West Indies station and circumnavigations with both Wallis and Cook, during all of which she had unfailingly provided milk for the ‘Gentlemen’s coffee’, she was now enjoying a good English pasture: ‘Perpetua ambit bis terra praemia lactis/ Haec habet altrici Capra seconda Jovis.’ And it was a friend of Boswell who provided a loose translation: ‘In fame scares second to the Nurse of Jove/ This goat, who twice the world has traversed round/ Deserving both her masters’ care and love/ Ease and perpetual pasture now has found.’27 Boswell had thought Banks ‘a genteel young man, very black [tanned], and of an agreable countenance, easy and communicative, without any affectation or appearance of assuming’.28 Surely he could be, and it is a verbal description that corroborates at least most of what is discernible from the two portraits. 153

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS However, it was not the only side of Banks’s character on display that spring of 1772; another one was on show when he concerned himself with the voyage preparations. In his memoirs, John Elliott, a midshipman in the Resolution, recalled a very different Banks: ‘A more proud, haught[y] man could not be, and all his plans seem’d directed to show his own greatness.’29 For the needs of the voyage Cook enthused that the Resolution was ‘the most proper ship . . . I ever saw’, but the nautically ignorant Banks was of the opinion she was too small for his needs, or more accurately his comfort. In a particularly unflattering display of egotism Banks had convinced himself he was ‘the Director and Conductor of the whole’ – a phrase that the Navy Board later used in internal correspondence to criticise him.30 Believing himself the indispensable lynchpin whose every whim was to be accommodated, and viewing the Royal Navy as little more than the transport for his expedition, he haughtily informed Lord Sandwich he would not participate unless the Resolution was improved and enlarged. Much to the vexation and exasperation of Captain Palliser, comptroller of the Navy Board, who knew this to be an unworkable proposal, Sandwich nevertheless gave the go-ahead. The departure was thus delayed while refitting and construction continued through March and April, when shipwrights added 1 foot to the Resolution’s upper works, a spar deck from the quarter deck to the forecastle and a roundhouse (square cabin) for Cook – Banks of course was to have all of the great cabin. The ship became something of a tourist attraction: Cook noted ‘scarce a day past on which she was not crowded with strangers who came on board for no other purpose but to see the Ship in which Mr Banks was to sail round the world’.31 Cook was assiduous in consulting Banks about all things concerning his comfort, including on the type of heating stove to be installed, if green baize floorcloth were acceptable, and whether he wanted brass locks and hinges on the doors. Sandwich too came to inspect the work on more than one occasion, and with the alterations almost complete at last, on 2 May an ebullient Banks gave a party aboard entertaining Sandwich, the French ambassador and several other notables. However his jubilation was short lived, for when the Resolution was taken out of Deptford for her sea trials it was immediately apparent – as some including 154

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST Cook and Palliser had prophesied – that the extra superstructure made her ‘crank’, or likely to be blown over on her side by a breeze even with minimal sail and thus sink. The pilot refused to take her beyond the Nore (a sandbank at the mouth of the Thames Estuary), and there was nothing for it but to strip the unsafe and unmanageable ship back to her original configuration. Banks was still offered all possible accommodation, but he was apoplectic; Elliott recalled that when Banks visited Sheerness and saw the stripped-down ship he ‘swore &. stamp’d upon the Warfe, like a Mad Man’.32 Banks’s uninformed suggestion to the Navy that an old East Indiaman or fortyfour-gun ship be substituted were tacitly ignored and in a fit of high pique reminiscent of Dalrymple in 1767 (see above, pp. 40–3), he refused to sail on the Resolution as she was; in mid-May he withdrew from the expedition entirely. In the event the reason for his obdurate refusal to participate in this momentous voyage was the loss of a mere 6 feet of the length of the great cabin (presumably to give Cook somewhere to sleep), and one small cabin less for his attendants. Then, in a display of paranoia worthy of Stansfield Parkinson, Banks convinced himself he was the victim of a Navy Board conspiracy, that he had never been wanted as part of the expedition and the alterations had been deliberately made so heavy as to render the Resolution unsafe in order to be rid of him. On 30 May he wrote an affronted, self-righteous and foolish letter to Sandwich, in which he ill-advisedly lectured the first lord on his naval business, conceitedly – and breathlessly – continuing: Shall I then my lord who have engagd to leave all that can make life agreable in my own country & throw on one side all the Pleasures to be reapd from three of the best years of my life merely to compass this undertaking pregnant enough with dangers and difficulties in its own nature after having been promisd every security and convenience that the art of man could contrive without which promise no man in my situation would ever [have] undertaken the voyage be sent off at last in a doubtfull ship with accommodations rather worse than those which I at first absolutely refusd after spending above £5000 of my own fortune on the equipment upon the credit of those accommodations which I saw actually built for me. will the 155

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS publick be so ungenerous as to expect me to go out in a ship in which my people have not the room necessary for performing the different duties of their professions, a ship apparently unhealthy and probably unsafe merely in conformity to the official opinion of the navy board who purchasd her without ever consulting me and now in no degree consider the part which I have taken in the voyage or the alterations which on my remonstrance they concured with me in thinking necessary but have now taken away or should I embark could anything material be done by people under circumstances so highly discouraging . . .33

Sandwich kept his cool: his handling of the situation reveals him to have been a skilled manager of both business and people. Having taken the advice of the Navy’s experts, including the Navy Board (which crushingly stated Banks was in ‘no degree qualified to form a right Judgement’ as to the ‘proper kind of Ship and her fitness and sufficiency for the Voyage’), and having secured the backing of the king, he applied all his skills to pacifying Banks by means of hard fact and crushing urbanity. There was a warning too: in a letter to Banks of 2 June, Sandwich stated that ‘it will probably make it necessary that some answer should be given if your letter is made public; for it is a heavy charge against this Board to suppose that they mean to send a number of men to sea in an unhealthy ship’.34 Sandwich the politician had anticipated that a man of Banks’s social rank and public profile might do what was common practice at the time, and anonymously air his grievances in the press in order to generate sympathy for his cause, at the same time making maximum trouble and embarrassment for the Navy. In this Sandwich, who had taken the precaution of preparing an anonymous rebuttal, was correct: Banks had drafted a letter (under the psudonym ‘Antarcticus’) to be sent to the Gazette. In the event he had enough sense to back down. Neither letter was published, but both have survived for posterity to reveal Banks’s childish anger and Sandwich’s suave worldliness. Had the pair been driven into enmity Banks would have found Sandwich a dangerous opponent, but in time the pair were reconciled as good friends. By 1775 relations had been so repaired that Sandwich invited Banks as his personal guest aboard HM Yacht Augusta when he 156

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST officially inspected the naval dockyards between 2 June and 13 July at the outset of hostilities with the American colonies. The Royal Society replaced Banks and his team with Johann Reinhold Forster (see above, p. 143) and his son Georg (1754–94) upon whom was settled the £4,000 government grant intended for Lind. Georg, not yet eighteen, was intellectually gifted and a romantic, and became generally accepted aboard. But not so his irascible father, who was deeply and roundly disliked by the crew. He was variously ejected from Cook’s cabin, threatened with arrest by Lieutenant Charles Clerke, punched to the floor by the master’s mate, and on several occasions menaced with being thrown overboard by sailors. Nor does posterity have a kind word to say about him: arrogant, demanding, disagreeable, dishonest, dogmatic, grasping, moralising, overbearing, quarrelsome, self-righteous and suspicious are all adjectives that have been variously used to describe him. In many ways Cook must have wished Banks had not withdrawn from the voyage. Revealing his better character, Banks seems not to have held a grudge against the Forsters: he purchased the ever-impecunious Johann’s drawings for 400 guineas before he left England for Germany following the Resolution’s return. There his fiscal irresponsibility continued, and in the spring of 1778, in response to what was to all intents and purpose a begging letter, Banks loaned Johann £250. Despite his appointment to the chair of natural history at Halle, and now under the patronage of Frederick the Great, his finances did not improve and when forced to make an arrangement with his creditors Banks demonstrated that while generous he was no soft touch and required matters to be conducted honourably and legally. Upon discovering that his loan was omitted from the restructuring of the debt, Banks determinedly wrote to Frederick’s agent demanding security. He did not expect to see the money he had loaned repaid, but wished to have the capacity to enforce the payment should Forster’s circumstances ever improve. BANKS’S MISTRESSES

When Banks withdrew from the voyage so did his team, but one unofficial member, a Mr Burnett, did not receive the memo. Cook reached Madeira on 157

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS 1 August to discover news of this individual, who had been waiting ‘about three months’ with the intention of travelling with Banks, but who, as soon as the news arrived that Banks ‘did not go’, had taken the ‘very first opportunity to get off the island’. This hasty departure had occurred a mere three days before Cook anchored, and no doubt with a wry smile he reported that ‘Every part of Mr Burnetts behaviour and every action tended to prove that he was a Woman’ aged about thirty and ‘rather ordinary than otherwise’.35 Given the chronology, Miss or Mrs Burnett must have left Britain for Madeira some time in early to mid-April; after his withdrawal Banks had thoughtlessly neglected to send news to his intended travelling companion. It is worthy of note that captains were permitted to carry friends of either sex aboard so long as they victualled them; perhaps ‘Mr’ Burnett’s intended presence was yet another indicator that Banks had believed himself in command of the voyage. Who exactly this disappointed yet self-reliantly capable lady was remains a mystery. Miss Burnett appears not to have been the only focus of Banks’s amorous attention in the early 1770s. In September 1773 the Town and Country Magazine was to publish ‘Histories of the Tête-à-Tête annexed; or, Memoirs of the Circumnavigator and Miss B—n’ which claimed that the young woman was not only Banks’s mistress but also the mother of his illegitimate child.36 The piece was spiteful and gossipy as per the tone of the periodical, but there is no reason to disbelieve its correctness regarding ‘Miss B—n’. Banks was described as a lusty gent, and when an undergraduate, ‘Oxford echoed with his amours, and the bed-makers of —— college have given the world some testimonials of his vigour’. But now the ‘complete conquest’ of his affections was reserved for this lady, whose ‘person was remarkably genteel, and her countenance particularly engaging. [Her portrait appeared next to that of Banks on an accompanying plate.] All the elegant accomplishments were united in her, and were only surpassed by her mental improvements.’ Daughter of a ‘gentleman of fortune’, she had been schooled at Blacklands House, a French boarding school for elite young ladies at Chelsea, which she left aged seventeen just before Banks sailed on the Endeavour. Thus she was born c. 1751 and had been a contemporary at the

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THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST school of Thomas Gainsborough’s two daughters. She was therefore only twenty-two or so at the time the piece was printed, and Banks likely first met her as a schoolgirl while visiting his mother before his departure with Cook in 1768. Indeed, she may have been the reason why Banks failed to visit his betrothed, Miss Blosset, upon his return in 1771, for the article held that this young lady had been Banks’s ‘first inquiry’; he discovered her in poverty, her father, having lost his fortune through gambling, was dead and she had been ‘compelled to be the companion of an old lady, on whom she totally depended’. Banks allegedly intervened, moving her first to a ‘decent family’ where she boarded with companions of her own age and where he visited her often, always chaperoned; until, that is, a ‘jaunt to Hampton Court’ became a ‘tête-à-tête party’ when her companion was taken ill. Subsequently Miss B—n became Banks’s mistress and he ‘furnished her a genteel house in the New Buildings’ (in Orchard Street) where she soon became a mother: ‘This pledge of their mutual fondness, still farther increased their affection and regard.’ The piece finished with the comment that the pair lived and behaved like a married couple. And there is evidence to corroborate certain of the Town and Country Magazine’s claims. The Westminster Rate Books for Orchard Street held in the City of Westminster Archives Centre reveals that for 1773 the rate payer at No. 24 Orchard Street was a Joseph Banks; and on 10 November that year the Danish entomologist John Christian Fabricius (between 1772 and ’75 he passed his summers in London working on the Endeavour insect collection) wrote to Banks thus: Here I am happy and merry at Coppenhagen thinking about all the happy houres I spend in Engelland with my friends, and recollecting all the fine things I saw in your house from the human down to the little Mosses Dr. Muselius was tired with . . . My best compliments and wishes in Orchard Street, what has shee brought you? Well, it is all the same, if a Boy, he will be clever and strong like his father, if a girl, she will be pretty and genteel like her mother . . .37

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THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Regretfully, there is no illuminating reply from Banks (the Dane left his possessions to his wife and children and unfortunately all are lost), but clearly his child must have been born before the publication of the Town and Country Magazine story. An August birth is possible: Banks was back in Britain from his Iceland expedition in November 1772 before departing for the Netherlands on 12 February 1773 and returning 20 March, but the article states the child was born soon after Miss B—n’s move to Orchard Street suggesting this was some time in the past. The other window of opportunity for conception was after his return to London from the Endeavour voyage and before departing for Iceland, that is to say 12 July 1771 to 12 July 1772. Assuming it took a couple of months for the relationship to develop, this places the child’s birth some time between June 1772 and April 1773. Birth records at this time were not kept, but parish baptism ones were. However, the baptismal records for St Marylebone, the parish church for Orchard Street, only record the father’s name: thus checking the surnames beginning with ‘B’ and ending with ‘n’ reveals nothing. Intriguingly though, there is one record for the years 1772 to 1773 with the surname Banks. Henry Banks was born in 1773 (no date is given) and baptised on 30 May: his father’s name was supposedly Thomas, his mother’s Elizabeth. Whether this was Joseph’s illegitimate son and he gave a false Christian name to hide the fact is a subject for further genealogical research. Why Banks failed to marry this girl can only be guessed at: perhaps she either fell from his affections or died, maybe during the birth of a second child; but in 1774 the rate payer at No. 24 had become Abraham Adams. Yet Banks did not want for female company. David Hume’s letter of 10 May 1776 mentioning Banks’s being accompanied on a fishing expedition by ‘two or three Ladies of pleasure’ has been mentioned (see p. 22). Then on 22 August that year, the Morning Post hinted that Banks, in the company of Lord Sandwich, had visited Medmenham, the clubhouse of Sir Francis Dashwood’s Hellfire Club, which was notorious for its meetings that ‘often included mock rituals, items of a pornographic nature, much drinking, wenching and banqueting’ and the presence of female guests, a euphemism for prostitutes.38 And by November 1776 Banks had a new mistress, the widow Sarah Wells.39 Sarah lived in Chapel Street south 160

THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST of St James’s Park in a house paid for by Banks; it is clear from correspondence that over the coming two years this was a far more public arrangement than with Miss B—n, for Sarah was widely introduced by Banks and acted as his hostess (Solander refers to her charm, good nature, and delicious dinners of ‘Game & Fish’).40

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FIVE 

To Iceland: The Independent Explorer

Back to June 1772 and Banks, disappointed, humiliated and resentful, left on the metaphorical quayside with a mountain of equipment, a large team and nowhere to go. Perhaps belatedly realising just how stupid his behaviour had been, Banks now salved his bruised pride and found compensation and a sense of purpose by pouring his energies into organising and commanding – for the first and only time – his own expedition. It can be hoped too that he felt a sense of remorse for having denied those whom he offered employment, not only a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sail with Cook but also three years’ work and pay. The destination Banks decided upon was Iceland, then part of the Danish kingdom and perhaps suggested by Solander or Uno von Troil (1746–1803), a Swedish gentlemanantiquarian and scientist, and later archbishop of Uppsala, whom Banks had met in London. As Banks explained in the ‘Introduction’ to his Iceland journal, his team was a considerable running expence [so] I thought it prudent to employ them in some way or other to the advancement of Science, a voyage of some kind or other I wishd to undertake and saw no place at all within the compass of my time so likely to furnish me with an opportunity as Iceland, a countrey which from its being in some measure the property of a danish trading company has been visited but seldom and never at all by any good naturalist to my knowledge; the whole face of the countrey new to the Botanist and Zoologist 162

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER as well as the many Volcanoes with which it is said to abound made it very desirable to explore it and tho the season was far advanced yet something might be done, at least hints might be gatherd which might promote the farther examination of it by some others . . .1

Vulcanology was becoming a popular topic of study at the time and may have also partly influenced Banks’s decision, but he was either being disingenuous or displaying ignorance in stating that the island was unvisited by ‘any good naturalist’. For, given his network, it seems unlikely that Banks would not have known that Johann Gerhard König (1728–85), a Baltic-German botanist and physician, and a student of Linnaeus, had spent a year on the island (1764–65) and botanised extensively. He may also have been aware that the explorer and writer Eggert Ólafsson (1726–68) and the naturalist-surgeon Bjarni Pálsson (1719–79), both graduates of Copenhagen University, had together made a detailed study of the natural history of Iceland by ‘Order of His Danish Majesty’ between 1752 and 17572. Arrangements occupied the month of June but Banks was unable to find anyone in London who had been to Iceland, although Claus Heide, a Dane living in the city, was able to give him some information ‘Chiefly out of books’.3 And despite the strained relationship between the Danish and British courts (the marriage of the Danish king and his queen consort Caroline Matilda, sister of George III, was troubled), King Christian VII was notified of Banks’s desire and gladly sanctioned the ‘celebrated English Lords’ visit. A passport for all the team was issued by the Danish ambassador on 2 July, and the same day Banks chartered the 190-ton brig Sir Lawrence with Captain James Hunter and a crew of twelve at £100 a month for a period of five months from 11 July to 4 December. Following yet another reiteration of his grievances against the Navy – and in particular Palliser – in the ‘Introduction’ to the first and larger of the two manuscripts that comprise his Iceland journal, Banks named the seventeenstrong team. All of those engaged for the circumnavigation were present, except the artist Zoffany, who had opted instead to travel to Florence and there copy paintings for the king. The ever-pompous Horace Walpole opined to Sir Horace 163

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Mann that he thought this better ‘than his going to draw naked savages and be scalped with that wild man Banks’4; Zoffany though was made of stern stuff: in later years, returning from Lucknow, India in 1789, where he had been living for six years, he was shipwrecked off the Andaman Islands and survived by cannibalism until rescued. Additions to the team were Troil (who wished to pursue his studies of the Icelandic language), John Gore (formerly lieutenant in the Endeavour), a Mr Riddle (‘a young gentleman’ friend from Roxburghshire), Alexander Samarang (‘a malay who came with me from Batavia’), Anthony Douvez (a French cook), Mr Moreland (a gardener), Alexander Sedt, James Marchant and Robert Holbrook (all servants). Dr James Lind was also to join the expedition: even though he had been a governmental appointee to the Resolution he too had resigned in a display of loyalty to Banks. Nevertheless, it must have been a blow to give up the £4,000 grant, especially since he was already, by his own admission, out of pocket after spending considerable sums equipping himself for his anticipated voyage . But it was loyalty reciprocated, for Lind was to write that Banks told him he had ‘a good estate’ and that this ‘he looked on as belonging to his friends as well as himself, that he held me as one of them and begged me to command my share of it. Whenever I wished it, a sum equal to £4000 he looked on as belonging to me.’ Lind however was not prepared to reimburse himself thus, but did retain a deep admiration for the man to whom, he held, he owed so much.5 In another act of generosity Banks gifted Zoffany £300, or one year’s salary, which the artist did accept. SAILING TO HEBRIDEAN ADVENTURES

History has a sense of irony; at eleven-o’clock on the evening of 12 July, 1772 just hours after Cook had heaved anchor and sailed out of Plymouth Sound, Banks sailed down the River Thames from Gravesend. The itinerary in brief was this: the passage along the south coast of England began with bad weather during which Banks was once again seasick: he decided to ride out the storm ashore at Kent. Stops were made at Cowes on the Isle of Wight (20–21 July) and Plymouth (23–24 July), where Mount Edgcumbe was visited once more. An amusing incident occurred on the 27th off Mevagissey when, raising a flag 164

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER to attract Cornish fishing boats, an armada of small vessels came out from shore to enquire what smuggled goods the Sir Lawrence was carrying. Sailing north up the Irish Sea, bad weather prevented a visit to the runic inscriptions on the Isle of Man. Similarly blown out was a much anticipated visit to the Giants Causeway. The Inner Hebrides were explored between 1 and 18 August, before time spent in Iceland (25 August until 8 October), with Orkney visited upon the return journey (16 to 26 October), and Banks disembarking at Edinburgh on 29 October. The first Hebridean island visited was Islay from 1 to 9 August, and with Banks seemingly returned to good spirits he devoted his enthusiastic energies to his studies (though not of course, among these strict sabbatarians, on the Sunday of their visit). The season was too late for good botanising and although Banks sought out what plants he could, the focus of this expedition came to be antiquaries, culture and geology, to which he set his artists to work painting. At Islay and in poor weather some mining works, the ruins of a religious establishment and a disappointing cave were explored. On 6 August a visit was made to the island of Jura, where Banks botanised for alpines along the ascent to the peak of the northernmost of the three Paps, somewhat inaccurately estimated by barometric observations to be 2,359 feet; the actual height is 2,571 feet. The next day a trip to the island of Oronsay to visit and paint monastic ruins and thence departure from the anchorage at Freeport to examine the Gulf of Corryvreckan between Jura and Scarba on the 9th. It must have been a calm day with neap tides, for Banks was unimpressed with the stretch of water, which with a spring ebb tide in full race creates the world’s third largest whirlpool. Banks now wished to sail directly to Iona, but happy fate intervened when Captain Hunter insisted on taking the brig through the Sound of Mull. Here Banks experienced a landscape about which he rhapsodised in his entry for 11 August, ‘Morven the Land of Heroes once the seat of the Exploits of Fingal the mother of romantick scenery of Ossian’, and at dinner that evening hosted by Sir Allan McLean of Drumnen (today Drimnin), another guest, an Englishman named Leach, told Banks of a cave on an island 9 leagues (27 nautical miles) away in which were ‘pillars like those of the Giants’ Causeway’. 165

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS An excited Banks departed the following morning in the ship’s yawl and eight tiring hours later landed at Staffa at nine o’clock in the evening. At dawn on the 13th and at the southern corner of the island Banks was ‘struck with a scene which exceeded our Expectations’. A fruitful morning was spent exploring the sea cave of ‘Fiuhn Mac Cou whoom the translator of Ossians works has calld Fingal’, with its striking hexagonal basaltic columns (Plate 20). In the afternoon the party left Staffa for Iona (with Solander less than happy, having caught lice from the overnight cottage accommodation), where the monastic ruins were explored on the 14th before the team rejoined the Sir Lawrence at Tobermory, Mull. The Hebridean adventure concluded with an unsuccessful day’s staghunting with McLean on Oronsay on the 15th, followed by an early morning departure on 16 August for the remote, dramatic island of St Kilda, a visit which was disappointingly abandoned due to foul weather. ICELAND

Course was now set for Iceland, with Banks taking advantage of calm seas to make some study of marine biology on the 20th, before the island was sighted on the afternoon of the 25th. Two days of sailing along the east coast followed, before a flotilla of shy Icelandic fishermen was encountered on the morning of 28th. Using Norwegian as a common tongue Solander was able to communicate with the men and convince one to pilot the Sir Lawrence into Hafnarfjörður, about 6 miles south of modern day Reykjavík, on the southwest coast. With a brief pause at Bessastaðir, where Solander sought and received permission to anchor from what Banks called the ‘Stifsamptman’ or governor, Lauritz Andreas Thodal (1718–1808), at about four o’clock on Saturday 29 Banks set foot ‘upon a country rougher & more rugged than imagination can easily conceive’. Preceded by his liveried servants, Banks paid a formal call on the governor; some mild confusion and embarrassment resulted when Thodal thought the servants more important than the more casually attired Banks. With the mix-up resolved, Banks was offered the use of an empty Danish warehouse as a base, but occupancy was not permitted until Monday. On the sabbath the team attended service in the small chapel. The following week was spent seine-netting around 166

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER Hafnarfjörður and botanising – only two species were directly introduced by Banks: Iceland purslane (Koenigia islandica) and swamp willow (Salix myrtilloides). The following Sunday (6 September) Banks hosted Thodal to dinner, served on his newly purchased Wedgwood Queen’s Ware service, and, to the surprise of his guests, accompanied by a performance from the French-horn players. The guests stayed until it became dark, when ‘mounting their little horses both men & women gallopd away over the rough beds of lava’. So ends the longer of the journal manuscripts. It is possible to piece together a general overview of the rest of Banks’s activities on Iceland from his far less detailed second journal manuscript, his notes and memoranda, long letters from Banks to Pennant and Falconer,6 and various other sources.7 ASCENT OF MOUNT HEKLA

The highlight of Banks’s visit was the expedition to scale the snow-clad active volcano Mount Hekla (4,892 feet, Plate 21). Banks was not the first to make the summit; that honour had gone to Eggert Ólafsson and Bjarni Pálsson who made the ascent on 20 June 1750. It was probably Bjarni himself who told Banks the story over a traditional Icelandic dinner that Banks had requested be served. The spirits, dried fish and sour butter proved palatable, but even the ever-adventurous gastronome Banks was put off by the dessert of shark and whale meat. A report of the overall expedition that appeared in the November issue of The Scots Magazine added a touch of colour to such festivities, declaring that ‘The gentlemen were very hospitably received by the inhabitants of Iceland, who are strong, simple, honest, and industrious, in general excellent players at chess, and exceedingly fond of spirits and tobacco’.8 Leaving Hafnarfjörður on 18 September the team travelled overland along the northwest shore of Lake Þingvellir, with a visit to the site of the Alþingi (the Icelandic general assembly, held here until 1800) and to Lake Laugarvatn with its geysers and hot springs. The 21st was spent at Haukadalur marvelling at what Banks called ‘volcanoes of water’ and in particular the Great Geysir, whose height was calculated by Lind to be 92 feet and which later gave its name to the generic ‘geyser’. 167

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS On the 22nd the party was hosted at Skálholt by Bishop Finnur Jónsson and the local headmaster Bjarni Jónsson, who composed laudatory odes in Icelandic and Latin in honour of Banks. The next day the large rivers Hvítá and Þjórsá were crossed by ferry and ford respectively, with the team in between times enjoying the relaxing and invigorating experience of a turf-covered steam bath. After overnighting in the church of Skarð on the 23rd, the following morning the team set out for Mount Hekla across an expanse of hraun (lava), reaching the foot of the volcano by evening. The night of the 24th was a short one, spent six to a tent: at one o’clock in the morning of the 25th the team commenced their thirteen-hour ascent. Conditions were harsh: We ascended Mount Hekla with the wind blowing against us so violently that we could with difficulty proceed. The frost, too, was lying upon the ground, and the cold extremely severe. We were covered with ice in such a manner that our clothes resembled buckram. On reaching the summit of the first peak, we here and there remarked places where the snow had been melted, and a little heat was arising from them; and it was by one of these that we rested to observe the barometer, which was 24.838. Thermometer 27. The water we had with us was all frozen. Dr. Lind filled his wind machine with warm water; it rose to 1.6, and then froze into spiculae, so that we could not make observations any longer. We thought we had arrived at the highest peak; but soon saw one above us, to which we hastened. Dr. Solander remained with an Icelander in the intermediate valley; the rest of us continued our route to the summit of the peak, which we found intensely cold; but on the highest point was a spot of three yards in breadth, whence there proceeded so much heat and steam that we could not bear to sit down upon it . . .9

The exhausted but elated team arrived back at base on 28 September, although Banks may have been mildly disappointed by the lack of volcanic activity (there were on average two eruptions a century, most recently in 1766). Here Banks collected geological specimens, purchased as many Icelandic books and 168

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER manuscripts as he could; acquired two Icelandic dogs (aptly named Hekla and Geysir); and enjoyed a social whirl during which he made a life-long friend in the person of the amtmand (deputy governor), Ólafur Stephensen. ORKNEY, EDINBURGH AND HOME

The Sir Lawrence departed Iceland at four o’clock on the morning of 8 October and sailing southeast came to anchor at three o’clock in the afternoon eight days later at Stromness, Orkney. For the next eleven days Banks pursued his antiquarian and archaeological interests: exploring, surveying and having painted various sites including the Stones of Stenness and Skara Brae, and excavating two Bronze Age burial tumuli at Sandwick. Banks was honoured with the freedom of the city of Kirkwall on 20 October before, according to Roberts’s journal,10 the brig cleared Orkney on the morning of the 26th, arriving at Leith Roads late in the evening two days later. The following morning Banks, Solander, Lind, Troil and Roberts disembarked and walked to Edinburgh. Here Banks visited the university and took pleasure in the company of its scholars, explored Holyrood House and dined again with James Boswell. He was a house guest of John Hope, second earl of Hopeton at Hopeton House (renowned for its gardens) and Dr John Roebuck at Kinneil House from where he visited the Carron ironworks and learned about Roebuck’s partnerships with James Watt and the steam engine that they had designed. Sated with intellectual stimulation and observation, Banks now made his way south overland down the eastern side of England to London via Alnwick, Morpeth, Newcastle and likely Revesby. A FRIEND TO ICELAND AND ITS PEOPLE

In many ways this expedition may be viewed as a gesture, a face-saving exercise, an escape from embarrassment and London that summer of 1772. Yet there were a handful of notable outcomes. Banks was the first to write a description of Fingal’s Cave, on which was based the first published account, in Thomas Pennant’s A Tour in Scotland (1769), illustrated with an engraving from a drawing by John Frederick Miller (Plate 20). This was one of seventy-five evocative drawings and watercolours made by the Millers and Cleveley, including fourteen 169

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of Icelandic plants (now in the British Library)11 which in their own right are an important historical record. Banks was likely the first non-Icelander to climb Mount Hekla, and while on the island he made an important collection of over 120 books and thirty manuscripts, including copies of the first Icelandic Bible of 1584, Snorri Sturluson’s Prose Edda and the famous Njáls Saga (also in the British Library).12 A garden-related outcome of the requirement that the Sir Lawrence take on ballast in Iceland was that rather than simply dumping the substantial quantity of lava rock overboard when the ship returned to Britain, Banks had portions deposited both in the royal gardens at Kew, where it served as the substrate for the moss garden, and at the Chelsea Physic Garden, where it may still be seen in the rockery. Perhaps most significantly his visit had long-term geo-political impact. While on the island Banks developed a deep and enduring affection for Iceland and its people. The feeling was mutual: William Hooker recounted that thirty-seven years after his visit Banks was still held in high esteem by the islanders – and he still is.13 In the early nineteenth century Banks appointed himself the Icelanders’ guardian, and came to be regarded by the British government as the authority on Icelandic affairs. For example, when the Pitt administration sought his advice on whether Iceland should be annexed as part of the seizure of Danish colonies in retaliation for the nation’s membership of the League of Armed Neutrality, Banks penned a lengthy memorandum entitled Remarks Concerning Iceland, dated 30 January 1801, in which he recommended ‘the conquest of lceland’. Banks was an enthusiastic colonialist and could see the strategic territorial and economic benefits (in particularly the cod fishery) that annexation would bring, recognising that the act would inflict on the Danes ‘a considerable political humiliation in the eyes of Europe’.14 But his advocacy was not colonisation for colonisation’s sake; rather his reason was philanthropic. Banks had seen the harsh misery endured by the Icelandic people under despotic Danish rule, and genuinely thought they would be better off under British hegemony. In the end Banks’s advice came to naught, but in October 1807 and during the Napoleonic Wars (1803–15) the son of his old friend Ólafur Stephensen appealed directly to Banks for help. With Denmark in allegiance with France, the Royal Navy was 170

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER capturing many Icelandic merchant vessels, a situation which if it persisted would result in the Icelanders facing starvation. Banks displayed his generosity and humanity in a very tangible way. By now a privy councillor and a member of the Board of Trade, he discussed the matter with his friend Lord Hawkesbury, the home secretary, who then asked Banks to devise a means by which ‘Iceland could be secured to His Majesty, at least during the continuance of the present war’. By December Banks had formulated his plan – instead of invasion he advocated that the islanders be offered the opportunity of voluntarily becoming British subjects. Again annexation did not happen, but Banks did secure the lifting of the blockade on merchant shipping, thus staving off mass starvation.15 Again according to Hooker, he was also fondly remembered on the island for his personal benevolence in providing funds from his own pocket for the ‘Icelanders, who, during the war with Denmark, were made prisoners by the English but released . . . till their return to their country’.16 In 1809, the year Hooker visited the island carrying a letter of introduction from Banks to Ólafur Stephensen, the ‘Icelandic Revolution’ took place when Samuel Phelps, a British soap merchant who had been granted a trading licence by the Privy Council, and a Danish adventurer Jøgen Jørgenson seized power and imprisoned the Danish governor. At first glance one could be mistaken for seeing Banks’s fingerprints all over the planning and execution of this coup; however while Banks had encouraged Phelps’s trading venture, his motivation as always was the welfare of the islanders and there is no evidence to suggest he was a plotter or a facilitator. In fact he was shocked by the events, which had come about because of the governor’s refusal to allow Phelps to trade with the Icelanders. The next year Banks once again acted as the Icelanders’ protector and benefactor, this time as the principle author of the Privy Council’s Orderin-Council declaring the government’s official policy towards Iceland. Issued on 7 February 1810 it acknowledged Danish sovereignty over the island, but George III, ‘being moved by compassion for the sufferings of these defenceless people’ (a Banksian phrase if ever there was one), placed the island under the protection of Britain in a state of neutrality and amity, and established free trade between 171

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the two islands. Following the end of the war even the Danish king Frederick VI recognised Banks’s role as Iceland’s protector in a personal letter. Banks refused the offered honour of the Order of the Dannebrog, but accepted three cases of books, including Flora Danica, which contained illustrations of the flowers which due to the season he had missed seeing in 1772.17 NOW, WHAT NEXT?

When Banks arrived back in London that December of 1772, the twenty-nineyear-old scientific explorer had in the course of the previous six years achieved much for advancing the knowledge of natural history. Iceland was to mark the northern limit of his explorations and collecting, just as Tierra del Fuego marked the southern – a range in latitude no naturalist before him had achieved. His three ‘voyages of curiosity’ created the foundation for Banks’s future, but unbeknownst to him when he wrote of his Iceland expedition to Falconer on 12 January 1773 expressing a hope that he would, that year, make a second of discovery to the South Seas, his adventuring days were over.18 In this instance overtures were made to him by the HEIC, likely at Lord Sandwich’s instigation, but nothing came to fruition. That February and March of 1773 he did make an information-gathering trip to the Netherlands (of which he kept a small journal – agricultural drainage, botanical collections and Arctic ice conditions) and a botanising excursion to Wales that summer. However, he did not join his good friend Constantine Phipps aboard HMS Racehorse as he commanded the North Polar Expedition tasked with seeking a Northwest Passage (4 June to 25 September) – although he furnished Phipps with advice and information on ice conditions gleaned from Dutch whalers and sailors. Instead he relied on others aboard to collect specimens for him: the surgeon-naturalist Dr Charles Irving (who had famously invented an apparatus for distilling fresh water from sea water) and Israel Lyons, his former botany tutor at Oxford for whom he had secured the position of astronomer. (Also on the manifest was a young midshipman named Horatio Nelson who had a very close encounter with a polar bear.) Upon his return Phipps presented Banks with twenty-eight plant and fifty-one animal specimens, mostly from Svalbard, and 172

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER including the remains of a polar bear, which Banks used to prove his pet theory that ‘the white Bear is an animal differing even generically from the Brown or Black bear’.19 Two years later Banks’s name was to be associated by Lind and the astronomer royal, the Rev. Dr Nevil Maskelyne, with a voyage proposed by the Royal Society to the Admiralty ‘for making discoveries on the N.W. side of America beyond California’. This expedition, however, was abandoned due to the demands placed on the Royal Navy by the American Revolutionary War (1775–83). BANKS LAMPOONED

Before we explore how Banks’s future was to evolve in a different direction to the one for which he had hoped that January of 1773, we need to examine the unpleasant (albeit justified) indignities piled on him that year in various forms of acid-penned satire. In that particularly British tabloid build-them-up-thenknock-them-down modus operandi, the darling of the press during the summer of 1771 was now in its sights as a target, in large part because of his own rakish behaviour. Banks was lampooned in a succession of satirical articles, cartoons, pamphlets, poems and vulgarity-laden bawdy plays. The vilification had begun harmlessly enough with two macaroni cartoons by Matthew Darly, personal satires of the celebrities of the day (Banks’s sister became a great collector of such cartoons): The Fly Catching Macaroni (Plate 18) was published on 12 July 1772 (Solander was similarly mocked as The Simpling Macaroni on 13 July), and The Botanical Macaroni on 14 November. The term macaroni pejoratively referred to a man who exceeded the ordinary bounds of fashion, and was defined by The Oxford Magazine in 1770 thus: ‘There is indeed a kind of animal, neither male nor female, a thing of the neuter gender, lately started up among us. It is called a macaroni. It talks without meaning, it smiles without pleasantry, it eats without appetite, it rides without exercise, it wenches without passion.’20 As the Town and Country Magazine was to reveal that September (see above, pp. 158–60), the last characteristic was clearly not true of Banks, but with the publication of Hawkesworth’s official Endeavour voyage account in June his sexual profligacy at Tahiti came under the spotlight. Because of his Enlightenment 173

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS views (see pp. 176–80), Banks may have considered Tahiti and its culture as a sort of sexual Eden, but the scandal-mongers did not. In an outpouring of deliberately misconstrued moralising based upon the explicit accounts of Tahitian sexual habits and the lascivious behaviour of their visitors, Banks was widely ridiculed for his readiness to exploit the innocence and sexual mores of Tahitian culture. It was widely assumed that Banks and ‘Queen Oberea’ (Purea) had been lovers and together with Banks she became a main victim of the outpouring of satire and vulgarity in what has become known as the ‘Oberea Cycle’. This began in 1773 with An Epistle from Oberea, Queen of Otaheiti to Joseph Banks, Esq.; Written in imitation of Ovid and purportedly translated by a ‘Professor of the Otaheite Language in Dublin’, the poem masquerades as an affectionate letter, with the queen recollecting her encounters with Banks and their purportedly amorous activities, and pokes fun at him. That same year and authored anonymously, An Epistle from Mr. Banks, Voyager, Monster-Hunter, and Amoroso, to Oberea Queen of Taheite, apparently explained away his alleged conduct on the grounds of cultural misunderstandings. A year later Banks’s ex-fiancée Harriet Blosset was fictionalised as part of the vilification of Banks. In the also anonymously published The Court of Apollo: An Heroic Epistle from the Injured Harriet, Mistress to Mr. Banks to Oberea, Queen of Taheite, this jilted woman of unquestionable purity and pedigree added her grievance against the immoral savage, the ‘wanton Gypsy, Dirty Queen’ who had lured Banks away from her. Thus while lampooning Banks this London-contrived sexualised fantasy deliberately misrepresented ‘Queen Oberea’ as a morally corrupt vamp; this had long term consequences, manufacturing the myth of the Pacific woman as exotic, romantic, seductive, sensuous – a falsity which to some extent endures still. She now ‘became the conduit of new and ancient fantasies of exotic femininity . . . the savage, lascivious queen “from the Southern Main” ’ who seduced a handsome, wealthy son of the Enlightenment.21 The untruth persisted: the satirical poem ‘Transmigration’ which appeared in 1778 cast Purea and all Tahitian women as fornicating ‘wanton dames’ and ‘demireps’ akin to Drury Lane prostitutes, their genitalia highlighted for the informed reader by the coded reference to ‘botanists . . . who scientifically 174

22 Wedgwood cameos of Joseph (then aged 39) and Dorothea Banks (23) modelled by John Flaxman Junior in 1780.

23 In the summer of 1777 Banks acquired the leasehold of 32 Soho Square, London. It became his home, shared with his wife and sister, and the headquarters of his private ‘research institute’ with his extensive collections and library housed in the back buildings.

24 Part of the Plan of the Royal Manor of Richmond by Peter Burrell showing the Physic Garden in the grounds of Kew House in 1771, the precursor of today’s Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew.

25 In 1772 Banks became the unofficial director the Royal (Botanic) Gardens at Kew. He established a policy of sending plant hunters around the globe to boost the garden’s live collection; one of the early arrivals was Masson’s Amaryllis belladonna.

26 Francis Masson was Kew’s first plant hunter. In 1772 he went to South Africa for three years before returning again in 1785 for a decade-long stint. He also collected speciments in Madeira, the Canary Islands, North Africa, the West Indies and Canada.

27 Archibald Menzies collected plants for Kew during the Vancouver Expedition (1791–5) including in the Pacific Northwest of America. But conflict with Captain Vancouver resulted in the death of most of his live collection, much to Banks’s chagrin.

28 This painting of the ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ by Robert Evans Dodd shows the Fletcher Christian-led crew throwing overboard the breadfruit trees Banks was attempting to transfer from Tahiti to the sugar plantations of the West Indies.

29 A watercolour from the journal of William Bradley. Dated 21 January 1788 and called Sirius & Convoy Going in, it depicts the First Fleet entering Botany Bay between Cape Solander to the left and Cape Banks to the right.

30 An early view of Sydney Cove from the north shore of the harbour. It was at this watered, deep anchorage on the south shore of Port Jackson that Governor Phillip decided to establish Britain’s first penal colony in the Antipodes thus beginning the colonisation of Australia.

31 A rural scene by Joseph Lycett showing the residence of John Macarthur near Parramatta, New South Wales. The farm house of the pioneer of the Australian flock and wool industry still stands in the midst of what is now a Sydney suburb.

32 An Australian print of a Merino sheep. It was Banks who, through various contacts, first acquired Merino stock from Spain for King George III’s royal flock. It was also Banks who supported John Macarthur’s plans to develop an Australian flock.

33 The Society of Dilettanti, originally painted by Joshua Reynolds. Amongst the gathering is Banks, shown on the far right of the picture; his share of Reynolds’s fee was £36 15s.

34 This remarkable contraption is the 40-foot reflector telescope designed and built by William Herschel. Following his discovery of the planet Uranus, Banks was a loyal friend of and patron to the impecunious astronomer and his sister Caroline.

35 The marine chronometer from Franklin’s Northwest Passage voyage. It was made by John Arnold whose instruments Banks held in high regard. As a commissioner of the Board of Longitude Banks promoted Arnold’s work, securing him a £3,000 award.

36 A plate from the first edition of Mungo Park’s bestselling Travels in the Interior of Africa. It was Banks who, in 1794 and under the aegis of the African Association, secured Park’s services to explore the course of the River Niger. 37 The ‘great circular instrument’ or Ramsden theodolite was designed in 1787 for the first accurate triangulation survey made in Britain. This forerunner of the Ordnance Survey maps used today was promoted and managed by Banks.

38 Banks advanced the pioneering subject of stratigraphic geology by providing William ‘Strata’ Smith with academic and financial support. Smith dedicated this, the first nationwide geological map of Britain, to Banks in recognition of all his assistance.

39 The most famous of the satirical cartoons to attack Banks was James Gillray’s The great South Sea Caterpillar, transform’d into a Bath Butterfly. Published on 4 July 1795, it mocks Banks’s royal friendship and past sexual mores while accusing him of being a virtuoso.

40 A hand-coloured woodcut showing Samuel Johnson and James Boswell at a meeting of the Literary Club. The Club was the most social and perhaps most exclusive club to which Banks was granted membership. He was admitted on 11 December 1778.

41 A portrait of the Right Honourable Sir Joseph Banks by Thomas Phillips showing the venerable seventy-two-year-old looking down with a piercing gaze from his chair as president of the Royal Society, and wearing a flower-embroidered waistcoat and the red sash of the Order of the Bath.

42 The coat of arms of Sir Joseph Banks. The arms: sable, a cross, or, between four fleur-delys, argent; and the crest: on the stump of a tree, couped, proper a stork close, argent, beaked, or. The motto Tria juncta in uno (three joined in one) is the that of the Order of the Bath; while Nullius in verba means ‘in no mans’s words’.

43 This illustration by John Sackhouse depicts the first communication with the indigenous people of Prince Regent’s Bay. Banks’s swansong as an advocate of scientific voyages of discovery was to ensure this Arctic expedition.

44 The interior of the Palm House at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew showing the oldest pot plant in the world: the specimen of the palm-like cycad (Encephalartos altensteinii) brought back from South Africa by Francis Masson in 1775. Banks made his last trip to Kew in 1819 to see the only cone the plant has produced as yet.

TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER tell/ the wonders of each cockle-shell’. And a year later a poem entitled ‘Mimosa or, the sensitive plant dedicated to Mr Banks’ derided Purea again, while linking Banks with aristocratic sexual intrigue. The imagined and mis-personification of a corrupting Purea had an impact on popular culture, and not just in print and on the stage. The perception of her as a procuress – and by extension the presumption that all South Sea women were prostitutes – was best exemplified by one London brothel-keeper, a Mrs Hayes. Her advertisement in Jack Harris’s popular Whoremongers Guide to London promised that ‘at 7 o’clock precisely 12 beautiful nymphs, spotless virgins, will carry out the famous feast of Venus, as it is celebrated in Tahiti, under the instruction and leadership of Queen Oberea’. The part of the queen was to be played by Mrs Hayes herself.22 However, Banks did not seem at all bothered by such character assassination, or if he was no record of his displeasure has survived. Unlike his idea to use the media to out the Navy Board in 1772 over his perceived ill treatment (a notion he did not follow through), he does not appear to have formulated a public rebuttal of the gossip, rumours and ribald satire. There can be no doubt that Banks exhibited libertine tendencies; he reportedly later boasted that ‘he had tasted Womans flesh in almost every part of the Known habitable World’.23 But that being said, rakish behaviour by men of the privileged class was not unusual at the time. Perhaps privately, within his coterie of gentleman friends he revelled in his notoriety. Publicly, as a man of science, Banks was now entering the next phase of his life as a dedicated public servant and savant.

175

SIX 

The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew

I THE ENLIGHTENED BOTANIST Until this juncture our story has unfolded in a chronologically linear fashion: we have followed the boy Joseph through his childhood and schooling; the young gentleman Banks though his higher and self-education; and the emergence of the professional natural historian on his three voyages of science. From 1773 onward the pattern of Banks’s life changed as his modus operandi shifted from a succession of separate experiences to a deeper and simultaneous involvement in a portfolio of diverse projects, either as inaugurator or as partner, with his role over the years, in many instances, evolving into that of orchestrator and conductor. Exactly because of the varied nature of Banks’s endeavours and interests it is no longer possible to present his life in a linear way. But before plunging into the multifarious activities that occupied his London-centred professional life over the coming forty-seven years, it is apposite to momentarily examine the intellectual paradigms and rationales that influenced Banks in his thinking and actions. Let us begin with what he was not. In spite of his dilettantist and botanical interests, he was no follower of architectural and landscape fashions; not for him a grandiose neoclassical pile, its grounds laid out by ‘Capability’ Brown. Nor, based on an examination of his writings, which are notable for a lack of philosophical reflection, would he appear to have been interested in or influenced 176

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW by the prevailing philosophies of the time, even though, for example, he knew David Hume personally. Yet Banks was not totally immune to the influence of intellectual concepts. As early as the Endeavour voyage he believed himself a ‘man of science’; as an adaptor of the Baconian method of investigative science that forms the basis of the scientific method as a means of observation and induction, he could be called an empiricist. Specifically, Banks believed the outcomes of science should be applied knowledge – purposeful and useful – and that theoretical speculation should be moderated by practical observation. As an early biographer remarked: ‘Every thought of Banks was practical: it tended every where and always to the application of the physical commodities of nature to the improvement of the condition, and the multiplication of the physical resources of mankind.’1 Moreover his view was shared by King George III, whose ‘strong and practical good sense [delighted in Banks’s zealousness] for the acquisition of knowledge, aimed, if not alone yet pre-eminently, to apply that knowledge to the immediate benefit of his country, and of mankind’.2 Described by one correspondent in 1786 as ‘The Liberal Patron of Science and the Enlightened Cultivator of Natural Knowledge’,3 Banks held a deep and ingrained belief in ‘progress’ – that cornerstone of eighteenth-century British intellectual thinking and a tenet of every major facet of the English Enlightenment. Integral to progress was ‘improvement’, the belief that through the application of human ingenuity, political necessity and moral authority the human and social condition could be bettered. Historically, improvement had referred to the land, and the eighteenth-century increases in yields, profits and landowners’ political influence wrought by a combination of new principles and reforms – enclosure, machinery, drainage technology, cultivation techniques, animal breeds and plant cultivars, etc., were proof positive of the power and benefits of improvement. Banks was the fourth generation of ardent, active agricultural improvers at Revesby, as demonstrated by a letter of approval from his uncle Robert who, upon hearing of his plans to drain a marsh and convert it into pasture, wrote on 15 July 1767: ‘I am extremely glad to find the drainage is likely to answer so well . . . for on this Age of improvement tis not impossible that fen 177

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS may become the finest richest country in green Britain.’4 Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the metaphorical range of improvement came to embrace diverse aspects of society, culture, politics, knowledge and science; and of course the progress wrought by the Industrial Revolution with its associated mechanisation, industry, mining and technology. Here too was a clear cross-over with many of the raw materials, for example coal and metal ores, extracted from beneath agricultural land; Banks, for instance had lead, copper and coal works at his Derbyshire estate of Overton.5 Once established as a force for good within the domestic intellectual narrative, it was not long before improvers sought to export the concept of improvement. Legitimised through a concoction of moral prerogative and responsible authority, improvement was taken to newly expropriated lands. Banks, like Bacon before him, was a confirmed colonialist, and held the belief that these distant territories should become useful and yield commodities for the profit of the motherland. A respected expert and prescient advisor, Banks was instrumental in unlocking the economic potential of colonial soils through commodity plant transfers and agricultural improvement; moreover he was causal in the establishment of a new penal colony at New South Wales (see below, Chapter 6, Part II). In the short term however, colonial improvement became synonymous with the ‘civilising process’ of newly subjugated indigenous peoples. Banks did not involve himself with this, nor the oppression of subordinated peoples as a labour source; and while he did proactively assist slave-owners by arranging the transfer of breadfruit trees from Tahiti to the West Indies in order to provide a cheap foodstuff to feed their human beasts of burden, he held abolitionist views. Mention has been made of his disgust when observing slaves being used at Saint Helena (see above, p. 131); and nearly thirty years later, on 6 July 1799, he wrote emphatically to Thomas Grenville, a fellow privy councillor, that in order to counter the threat posed by the French sugar-beet industry to the slave-powered sugar plantations in the West Indies, the latter must compete by using a ‘Labour of Freedmen’. In the meantime, he added, ‘a struggle almost equal to an Earthquake must take place & Slavery must be abolishd not on moral principles which are in my opinion incapable of being maintaind in argument, but on 178

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW Commercial ones which weigh equaly in moral & in immoral minds’.6 As will be revealed in Chapter 8, part III, Banks became involved with the arch-abolitionist William Wilberforce (1759–1833) and to him on 20 November 1815 he reasserted his moral objections to slavery while enthusiastically praising the newly liberated people of Haiti: ‘Was I Five and Twenty, as I was when I embarked with Capt Cooke, I am very sure I should not Lose a day in Embarking for Hayti. [T]o see a sort of Human beings ermerging from Slavery & making most Rapid Strides towards the perfection of Civilisation, must I think be the most delightfull of all Food for Contemplation.’7 Yet somewhat hypocritically, one of Banks’s criticisms of the church centred on his opinions that it was not theologically justified to take an abolitionist stance nor was it the social prerogative of the clergy (be they of the Evangelical or Established Church) to become active in the anti-slavery campaign. Fully cognisant and accepting of the constituted order of church and state, yet indifferent to theology and not a practising Christian (except as an occasional churchgoer according to social convention), from as early as his Endeavour journal Banks displayed an anticlerical scepticism. A free-thinking pluralist, he was scathing of a church that persecuted on doctrinal grounds (as experienced by Priestley and his rejection from Cook’s second voyage, for example – see above, p. 150) or coercion. As he wrote to Professor John Leslie, a Scottish mathematician and physicist best remembered for his research into heat, on 19 April 1805, ‘No Church surely has ever increased its influence over the minds of Men by unwholesome severity, mildness of demeanor carries or rather forces Religion into the hearts of Men & il soon finds its way from their hearts to their souls, while the opposite extreme renders its teachers odious in the eyes of all Man kind & puts Religion itself in continual risk of being abandoned’.8 Another of his gripes at the ecclesiastic establishment as a major landowner was its foot-dragging, anti-improvement stance to agriculture. He did not theorise on the subject of Creation but from what little he wrote relating to the topic Banks appears to have believed that the universe had a teleological ‘Providence’, that it was the work of a conscious designer who gave everything a purpose. And if there was a purpose there also had to be order, but one of the 179

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS biggest obstacles faced by any scientist wishing to further understand natural history was the want of a well-defined, well-described and (most importantly) generally accepted system of classification. It was no surprise then that early in his professional life Banks became an adherent of the binomial system which through utility brought a level of manageable order to classification. Described in System Naturae (1735) by a twenty-eight-year-old Carl Linnaeus, it was introduced to Banks some time around 1763 by Solander. Later in life and primarily due to working on his natural history collections (in particular the botanical one) and facilitating publications, Banks was to be an influential proselytiser for this system which, although not without its critics at the time, remains the international standard today. THE FLORILEGIUM THAT FAILED TO APPEAR

Returning to London and 1773, one focus of Banks’s prodigious activities into which he invested heavily, both emotionally and financially (something in the order of £10,000), was the Florilegium of the Endeavour expedition. Early in the year Banks set the artists John Frederick Miller, James Miller and John Cleveley to complete Parkinson’s drawings, while taxonomic work continued on the plant collections from the late winter until the spring of 1777. In the late autumn of 1774 the engraver Gerard Sibelius joined the team of artists: with 195 plates bearing his name he was to prove, after Daniel MacKenzie, the second most productive of the eighteen engravers who worked on the project. In addition to securing the most talented artisans available, Banks also involved himself with the reprographics. Concerned that traditional line-engraving techniques did not capture with sufficiently fine precision the details of the plants he investigated the new aquatint method. By the time of Solander’s death in 1782 – the loss of his mentor, travelling companion, colleague and above all friend was a blow that Banks felt deeply and personally – the vast majority of the preparatory work was done, with nearly 700 of the copper plates completed. Now held in the Natural History Museum, London, each plate is folio-sized, about 18 by 12 inches; each cost Banks £6. And yet, Banks’s magnum opus was never forthcoming. Banks gave no reason why the project never went to press, but a major reason was 180

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW money. Banks would have had to self-finance the publication; the cost of each volume of fifty plates has been estimated at £500, or £7,500 for the set of fifteen volumes (Banks had planned on fourteen volumes).9 This at a time when Banks was experiencing a temporary decline in his financial fortunes. His economic position was never perilous, but the American Revolutionary War did reduce his financial freedom. For example, at the end of the 1780s he sold the estates of Cheadle and Kingsley, Staffordshire to alleviate various financial pressures. The great work did finally appear – but not until the late twentieth century.10 THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS AT KEW

Work on the Florilegium ran in parallel with another project which Banks initialised, and in which for the rest of his life he was to be the driving force, the establishment and development of what is today the world’s premier botanic garden: the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. This august institution evolved from a private, royal-owned and funded botanic garden in the grounds of Kew House, Surrey on the south bank of the River Thames, some 7 miles as the crow flies to the west of central London (distances from London are traditionally measured from the equestrian statue of King Charles I at Charing Cross, just south of Trafalgar Square). At their first meetings in the summer of 1771 the king and Banks had discovered certain mutual interests and backgrounds. ‘Farmer George’ – as the king was nicknamed –was also deeply interested in agriculture, and also had an avid gardener for a mother. Just as Sarah with young Joseph, so Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg (1719–72) imbued the young Prince George with an interest in botany. In 1731 George’s father, Frederick, prince of Wales (1707–51), eldest son of King George II and Queen Caroline (both parents and son mutually loathed one another), took the lease on Kew Park and set about making improvements. William Kent (1685–1748), in his capacity as architect rather than landscape designer, remodelled Kew House, adding a white stucco Palladian façade which earned it its more familiar name, the White House. And although not credited with the new landscape, it is conceivable that Kent may have held some influence over its design, most of which was carried out in the 1740s. 181

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Soon after the death of the forty-four-year-old Frederick, his thirty-twoyear-old widow, now the dowager princess of Wales, became so familiar with the dashing, handsome John Stuart, third earl of Bute (1713–92) – his legs were regarded as the best-proportioned in London – that rumours began circulating that the pair were conducting an affair. This is unlikely, but in 1755 Bute did consolidate his power. Appointed Prince George’s ‘finishing tutor’, he exerted an enormous influence on the personality and character of the future king, who in turn became greatly dependent upon Bute. Moreover, Bute was a skilled botanist and ardent gardener, and in 1754 purchased a property on Kew Green that enjoyed a private entrance into the grounds of the White House, where he worked with Augusta developing her gardens. And it was through Bute that in 1757 the Scottish-Swedish architect William Chambers (1723–96) became involved in laying out the grounds and designing many garden buildings. In 1759, close to the White House (in the northeast part of today’s garden), the pair established the 9-acre Physic or Exotic Garden. Formally laid out and devoted to medicinal plants, it was placed under the superintendency of the specially appointed William Aiton (1731–93). This was the first botanic garden at Kew, the precursor of Banks’s efforts and the direct ancestor of today’s establishment. Consequently the year 1759 is now widely taken as the date for the foundation of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The whole garden at Kew quickly gained a glowing reputation, and the extent of Bute’s involvement is apparent from a letter written by Thomas Knowlton on 27 February 1763 to William Stonehouse which recognised the garden as having ‘one of the best [living plant] collections in the kingdom if not the world’.11 Three years later the noted horticulturist Peter Collinson, writing to his friend John Bartram of Philadelphia, judged Kew ‘the Paradise of our world, where all plants are found that money or interest can procure’.12 Bartram, the father of American botany, was a dedicated and wide-ranging plant hunter from whom Parkinson received, and thus was responsible for introducing into English gardens, many new plants from the American colonies. Perhaps predictably, the ever-condescending Horace Walpole, who estimated the cost of the garden to Augusta at between £30,000 and £40,000, and concurring with the gossip that she 182

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW had frittered away her private income on Bute, believed that within the design ‘there is little invention or taste shown’. With the accession of King George III on 25 October 1760 Bute rapidly rose from courtier to privy councillor to cabinet minister, and in May 1762 was appointed first lord of the Treasury, a post which carried with it the responsibility and authority of prime minister. But he proved to be a political disappointment and resigned within a year, simultaneously falling from the king’s good graces. He remained a friend to Augusta however, who continued to enjoy her gardens at Kew; but ailing in her last years she would visit with decreasing frequency, on Tuesdays and Saturdays only, when she breakfasted with her son the king and his wife Charlotte (the marriage had been arranged by Bute). BANKS ARRIVES AT KEW

It is not possible to ascertain the exact date that Banks became the king’s unofficial botanical advisor at Kew (Plate 24), but it was some time between the summer of 1771 when he first met the king and the autumn of 1772, when he was sufficiently established at Kew to deposit Icelandic rock there in order to form a base for the moss garden (see above, p. 170). And it is perhaps that an early date in 1772 is most likely, because when his mother Augusta died on 8 February, the king had broken completely with Bute. Nevertheless, Bute remained on good terms with Banks. In a letter dated 7 January 1777 he thanked Banks ‘for procuring him so valuable a collection of seeds’ and flatteringly enjoined him, as ‘the first Patron of Botany’ to visit Bute at his estate so that he (Bute) might profit from both his and Solander’s ‘superior knowledge in his favourite Science’.13 And when in 1785 Bute issued his Botanical Tables describing the ‘different family of British plants’ according to a classification system of his own devising, not only was Banks a recipient of one of the dozen privately published nine-volume sets, but in his Introduction Bute paid tribute to Banks’s ‘generous ardour’ that had ‘enriched our herbals with many new discoverd beauties’. By 1773 Banks had become indispensable at Kew, occupying ‘a kind of superintendency over his [the king’s] Royal Botanic Gardens’14, as he described it to the Spanish ambassador in a letter of 10 April 1796.15 Now a regular feature in 183

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the king’s Saturday morning calendar, the two men would walk the gardens together discussing projects and taking decisions verbally. The king’s equerry, Colonel Robert Fulke Greville (1751–1834) made frequent references to their meetings in his diaries, such as this one for 21 February 1789: ‘The King however continued his walk with Sir Joseph Banks about three hours. They first visited the Exotic Garden, thence walked through Richmond Gardens where the sheep were looked at, thence they proceeded across the London Road [now Kew Road] to Marsh Gate where H.M. has lately made a farm yard & erected farm offices.’16 In a letter written two days later to an anonymous recipient Banks added that during ‘all which time he [the king] gave his orders as usual, and talked to me on a variety of subjects’. The letter was eventually published thirtyone years later, and two months after Banks’s death, in the Gentleman’s Magazine for August 1820. At heart Banks was a collector; an accusation levelled at him by detractors was that he was nothing more than a ‘virtuoso’. Although by no means a complete definition – and the word came to mean different things at different times in the century – one key characteristic of the virtuoso was that he (or his female equivalent, the virtuosa) was an amateur accumulator of rare and expensive items, collected for collecting’s sake. The very practice revealed the virtuoso to be both wealthy and leisured, and for many virtuosi a collection of curiosities (and the travel involved to collect them, for example the Grand Tour) was no more than a badge of social distinction. Without doubt Banks was a wealthy private individual, a collector and traveller par excellence; but Banks the scientist collected for a purpose, in the pursuit of philosophical enquiry, and through observation and its application, the advancement of knowledge and order. At Kew he was by proxy the architect and manager of a matchless living collection of plants, but here too his collecting on behalf of the king had a vision and a purpose: Banks knew exactly what he wished to achieve there. What Banks did not contemplate was the establishment of a research facility along the lines of certain other European institutions, for example the Jardin Royal des Plantes in Paris. Also subject to royal patronage and contemporary with Kew, the Jardin was ordered to be reorganised in 1772 at a cost of 52,000 livres 184

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW by King Louis XV along scientific lines, according to the plan of the naturalist, Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de Buffon (1707–78), with whom Banks exchanged seeds and herbarium specimens. Quite simply, Banks did not contemplate the establishment of such a garden because at home he had already amassed an impressive herbarium and reference library, both of which continued to grow in size and scope over the years; and here too he was able to call on the expertise of the botanists-cum-curator-librarians in his employ: Solander until his death in 1782; from then on and until his death the Swede Jonas Carlsson Dryander (1748– 1810), another former pupil of Linnaeus (appointed botanical assistant by Banks in 1778, Dryander’s magnum opus was the 1796–1800 five-volume Catalogus Bibliothecae Historico-Naturalis Josephi Banks); and from 1810 until Banks’s death, Robert Brown, who had previously been one of Banks’s plant hunters and to whom Banks bequeathed an annuity of £200 as well as the ‘use and enjoyment during life of Banks’s library, herbarium, manuscripts, drawings, copper-plates engraved, and everything else that is contained in his collections’.17 Instead, Banks’s key aim at Kew was to establish the garden’s supremacy both nationally and internationally by means of an unrivalled living botanical collection made for the king’s credit and at the king’s behest. As he wrote to Dr Clarke Abel (1780–1826) on 10 February 1816, he always aimed to ensure that ‘as many of the new plants as possible should make their first appearance at the Royal [Botanic] Gardens’.18 Throughout the rest of Banks’s long life the British Empire – with the shock-exception of the loss of the American colonies – continued to expand; growth that perennially presented opportunities to increase and diversify Kew’s plant collection both from within the empire and beyond it. WILLIAM AITON, HEAD GARDENER

In order to achieve his aim Banks required both a reliable and knowledgeable superintendent at Kew to care for the plants and the garden, and a structured acquisitions policy. The former role was more than adequately filled by William Aiton. This Lanarkshire Scot had come to London aged twenty-eight and had previously worked as an assistant to the celebrated Philip Miller at the Chelsea 185

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Physic Garden, before being employed at Kew by the dowager princess of Wales. Here he was to remain until his death in 1793; Banks acted as a pall-bearer at his funeral. One of the most celebrated gardeners of his day, a man whom Dr Fothergill judged to be ‘very ingenious, sensible, honest’19, Aiton was also industrious. Within the botanic garden he was responsible for the characteristic high levels of orderliness, presentation and good horticultural practice; and in 1773 he implemented one of Banks’s first policies for restructuring the existing collection. The numbered plant tags were replaced with named labels, and the names entered onto a paper catalogue. The latter, in turn, was the genesis of the first edition of Hortus Kewensis (1789), a major work in three volumes that inventoried the some 5,600 taxa then growing at Kew (and by inference most of those cultivated in all of Britain’s gardens). Although Aiton is named as author on the title page he was ably and generously assisted by Solander and Dryander: ‘It was Solander who reduced our garden plants to order and laid the foundation of the Hortus Kewensis of his friend Aiton’, while it was Dryander who contributed most of the third volume and edited the entire text.20 Yet, for all the help received Aiton was notably ungenerous in apportioning credit where it was due, naming neither man.

II A NEW ACQUISITIONS PARADIGM To gather together the broadest diversity of living plants required that Banks devise and implement an active and organised acquisitions policy to replace Bute’s somewhat haphazard approach. GENEROUS DONORS AND PERSONAL PATRONAGE

Banks could and did rely on generous, informal donations made by his extensive network of correspondents, contacts and friends (be they dedicated scientists or amateur botanising ladies and gentlemen). The general rule of thumb was that dried specimens went into Banks’s private herbarium, while live specimens and seed went to Kew. Examples of this type of accession include the nearly 800 taxa 186

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW of mostly North American trees and shrubs planted in 1773 that found their way to Kew, at least in large part, through the intercession of Dr Fothergill, who enlisted the help of John Bartram on Banks’s behalf. About the same time the Scottish explorer James Bruce (1730–94), who was in Africa endeavouring to discover the source of the River Nile, sent packets of seed to Kew, mostly from Abyssinia. Upon his return and at the request of the artist Zoffany, Banks obtained customs exemption on Bruce’s forty volumes of illustrations. The two men were friendly but very different, as James Boswell delightfully put it: ‘All extraordinary travellers are a kind of shows; a kind of wild beasts. Banks and Bruce however were animals very different one from another. Banks was an elephant, quite placid and gentle, allowing you to get upon his back or play with his proboscis; Bruce, a tiger that growled whenever you approached him.’21 Another donor was Hinton East (d. 1792), plantation owner, eminent botanical collector and active member of the administration at Jamaica, who sent several large donations; while Sir John Murray (c. 1769–1827) dispatched packets of seeds from India where he was on active military service between 1801 and 1805. Banks was also willing to spend his own money, for example in the case of William Brass (d. 1783), a gardener to the first duke of Northumberland who set sail in May 1780 for Cape Coast Castle on the Gold Coast (today’s Ghana). With an annual salary of £130, he was plant hunting for a syndicate that included Northumberland, Banks, Dr Fothergill and the nurseryman James Lee. A small secretarial post had been secured for Brass with the HEIC but working to collect in difficult circumstances and tough conditions he seems to have been all but abandoned by his patrons. Before leaving for home in 1783 – he sadly died on the voyage – Brass sent seed of forty-two taxa and herbarium specimens back to Lee and Fothergill respectively (the latter went to Banks upon Fothergill’s death), as well as botanical drawings which were loaned to Adam Afzelius (1750–1837), yet another Swedish botanist and student of Linnaeus, and subsequently lost. Afzelius is a good example of Banks’s assiduous cultivation of an often overlapping network of beneficial relationships with individuals and institutions. He was in London in 1791 when Banks was consulted by the politician, 187

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS philanthropist and leading abolitionist William Wilberforce in his capacity as subscriber to and driving force behind the Sierra Leone Company (SLC). The SLC intended to establish and administer a new colony for Black Loyalists (mostly former African slaves who had fought for the British during the American Revolutionary War), and Wilberforce wished to appoint a company botanist conversant with tropical flora. Banks recommended his new friend, who although employed by the SLC agreed to collect for Banks, who in turn provided support and equipment. Arriving at Freetown on 6 May 1792, Afzelius sent a first consignment of seed and bulbs to Kew that June, and by September 1793 he was back in England bringing with him ‘many fine things, though not many specimens, because the Sierra Leone climate is very damp and insectiferous’. On 22 April 1794 he landed for a second time at Freetown, returning to the city with a Kew-trained gardener who was to act as an assistant along with a ‘plant-hutch’ presented to him by the king. Also referred to as a plant cabin, botanic conservatory or garden hutch, this was a temporary greenhouse constructed on a ship’s quarter deck for the purpose of transporting live plants in pots. Keeping plants alive during a sea voyage lasting anything up to nine months was a challenge: salt spray, wildly fluctuating changes in temperature and climate, desiccation and damage could all sound a death knell, even if a gardener was aboard tasked to tend to them. The plant cabin, a number of which Banks designed himself, was an attempt to provide some form of protected environment and the prototype was fitted to the ill-fated HMS Guardian in 1789 (see below, p. 240). Disaster struck five months later when Freetown was attacked by a French naval force: Afzelius watched as his garden was ruined, his little menagerie massacred, his journal, collections and equipment (to a value of £1,600) destroyed. Yet the resourceful, energetic and cheerful Swede set about replacing his losses and in a letter dated 17 February 1795 Banks informed him that he was to draw upon him for any funds he needed. Afzelius continued to send back botanical specimens and plants to Kew, a practice that displeased Wilberforce when brought to his notice. Wilberforce complained to Banks that his employee should not be moonlighting but working solely for the SLC; Banks replied 188

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW suavely to suggest that Wilberforce and his directors take Afzelius’s advice and transfer out to Africa those plants recommended by their botanist, plants that Kew would be happy to supply. Afzelius finally returned to London in 1796 where he prepared for publication his Genera Plantarum Guineensis (1804); following a spell as secretary to the Swedish Embassy he returned to Sweden, where he was appointed professor of materia medica at Upsala University in 1812. Dr Joseph Arnold (1783–1818) was another donor cultivated by Banks, albeit an unfortunate one. Trained as a surgeon, he joined the Royal Navy in 1808 and over the next seven years made two voyages to New Holland (Australia). According to his obituary, which appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine in February 1820, he was encouraged by ‘a friend at the Transport Board’ to collect ‘natural curiosities’ when at New South Wales in 1815. This he did, but regrettably his collection was lost when the Northumberland caught fire at Batavia on the voyage home. A year after his return to Britain in 1816 and ‘upon the recommendation of Sir Joseph Banks’ he was sent ‘as Naturalist’ to accompany the Governor of Java on an expedition to Sumatra ‘under the patronage of the Hon. East India Company’ where he worked with Sir Stamford Raffles. Here, in the jungle at Bengkulu he – or rather his Malay servant – found the parasitic and repulsively scented corpse lily which produces the world’s largest single flower with a diameter of over 3 feet. Arnold died from fever soon after at Padang, but his sketch was completed by Lady Raffles and sent with the collected material to Banks. The plant was named Rafflesia arnoldii for both men. In fact the genus had been discovered by the French explorer Louis Auguste Deschamps (1765– 1842) in 1797. However, when his ship was captured by the British in 1798 his collections were taken as spoils of war, and his specimen of R. patma was rediscovered in the Natural History Museum only in 1954. QUID PRO QUO ARRANGEMENTS

Of all the plant acquisition relationships Banks cultivated, the most productive was the corporate quid pro quo one he carefully nurtured with the HEIC. Everappreciative of Banks’s generous, freely given advice, one way in which the 189

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Court of Directors reciprocated was in floral kind from its own network of botanic gardens, over the years becoming Kew’s most notable plant benefactor. For example, from Saint Helena where the HEIC garden was replaced by an official botanic garden in 1787, Governor Daniel Corneille, whom Banks had met on his return aboard the Endeavour, and his successors Robert Brooke and Colonel Robert Patton all donated generously. But the greatest source of floral bounty were the ever-increasing swathes of India that came under HEIC rule. Banks corresponded regularly with the Company surgeon-botanists stationed here; in particular, from 1777 he enjoyed a long and fruitful exchange with the Scottish surgeon and botanist, Dr William Roxburgh (1751–1815). Often regarded as the founding father of Indian botany, Roxburgh was then stationed at Nagore, Tamil Nadu where he was botanising with Johann Gerhard König (who had botanised at Iceland in the mid-1760s and who bequeathed Banks all his own specimens and papers upon his death from dysentery in 1785). Upon his promotion to full surgeon in 1780 Roxburgh was stationed at Samalkot, Andhra Pradesh where he established and superintended an experimental garden; in April 1789 he replaced Patrick Russell as the Company botanist at Madras (where in that year was founded the ‘Hon. Company’s Nopalry’ in order to cultivate Opuntia cacti for a proposed cochineal industry (see below, pp. 214–15); and four years later on 29 November 1793 he took up the superintendency of the Hon’ble Company’s Botanic Garden, Calcutta. This was the HEIC’s first botanic garden: founded in 1786 with support from Banks, it was the brain child of Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Kyd (1746–93). In his proposal to the government of Bengal, dated 16 June 1786, Kyd set out the botanic garden’s primary aims: ‘Not for the Purpose of collecting rare Plants (altho’ they also have their use) as things of mere curiosity or furnishing articles for the Gratification of Luxury, but for establishing a stock for the disseminating such articles [as] may prove beneficial to the Inhabitants [of India], as well as Natives of Great Britain and ultimately may tend to the Extension of the National Commerce and Riches.’22 It was therefore not a taxonomical collection but a clearing house for the introduction, trial and propagation of useful, commodity-yielding plants: medicinal, foodstuffs (the sago palm from Malaya and the date palm from Basra, 190

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW for example), and commercially significant plantation crops (including teak to support ship-building and repair). Kyd was appointed the garden’s first superintendent on 18 May 1787 and Banks penned an advisory list of those species he considered would be beneficial to India, to be imported from Ceylon, Cochinchina, Java, the Red Sea and Sumatra, as well as fruits and spices from the Dutch East Indies. In regular dispatches Roxburgh sent Banks quantities of botanical drawings and plants. His most substantial collection of live plants was transported to Kew in 1796 under the care of the Kew gardener Peter Good. Suffering ill health, Roxburgh was briefly replaced in 1814 by Dr Francis Buchanan-Hamilton (1762–1829), who continued the practice, sending Banks a collection of Burmese plants (he also introduced the scarlet-flowered Rhododendron arboretum upon his return in 1815). Buchanan’s tenure was brief; the last superintendent at Calcutta during Banks’s lifetime was Nathaniel Wallich (1786–1854), a Dane and Roxburgh’s former assistant who secured the post in 1815 in large part because of Banks’s recommendation. Ever grateful throughout his thirty-year tenure, Wallich sent Kew (even after Banks’s death) many consignments of seeds from India and Nepal. Writing to his protégé on 26 August 1818 Banks warmly thanked Wallich: ‘I confess I was not aware [of] the increased energies which have been this year exercised in favor of my favourite establishment, the Royal [Botanic] Gardens at Kew . . . Scarce a ship has arrivd that was not chargd with some valuable present from you . . . Kew Gardens already feels sensibly the effect of your kind attentions.’23 As botanically bounteous as India certainly was, Banks also had another distant destination high on his wish list. A trickle of enticing specimens pointing to the floral riches waiting to be discovered in China had travelled west, but maddeningly this reclusive country had closed its borders to foreigners in the mid-fifteenth century, a policy that remained strictly in force. Some limited trading was permitted however, and the HEIC had established a trading ‘factory’ at Canton (today’s Guangzhou) in order to facilitate its monopoly on tea exports. By the late eighteenth-century, and with the demand for tea ever increasing, the Company wished to expand its operations; and at the same time the British 191

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS government, with a wary eye on the geopolitical balance in the region, wished to establish diplomatic relations with the Chinese Qianlong Emperor. It was decided therefore to send a joint deputation headed by Lord Macartney (1737–1806) and funded by the HEIC. What was to be the first British embassy to reach China left Portsmouth on 26 September 1792, and not surprisingly, his eyes fixed on botanical opportunities, Banks had been an ardent advocate of the mission. As well as new taxa for the living collection at Kew he was particularly eager to acquire knowledge about tea cultivation and production with the aim of establishing a tea industry in HEIC-controlled India (see below, pp. 215–16). And so in another manifestation of the quid pro quo arrangement two Kew gardeners, David Stronach and John Haxton, were included among the 100-strong delegation. Ever-willing to assist in order to further his collecting aims, on 18 August Banks wrote for Sir George Staunton the comprehensive 3,500-word ‘Hints on the Subject of Gardening suggested to the Gentlemen who attend the Embassy to China’,24 appended to which was a list of plants he most desired. From Java on the outward journey Banks received a nutmeg tree (Myristica fragrans) and six mangosteen trees (Garcinia mangostana) from Macartney’s secretary Sir George Staunton (1737–1801), but while they did bring back detailed observations of a great empire, the trip was a disappointment both diplomatically and botanically. No trade agreements were agreed, no permanent embassy established, nor any new ports for trade opened; the two gardeners were refused permission to explore beyond the confines of the trading factory and, strictly chaperoned when the mission travelled to Peking (Beijing), they had little opportunity to collect. Nevertheless when the mission returned in 1794 Banks was the recipient of a number of herbarium sheets and live specimens including those of Macartney rose (Rosa bracteata) and the plume poppy (Macleaya cordata), and according to George Suttor, who saw them at Spring Grove, specimens of ‘the double-white myrtleleaved Camelias’ which Staunton had somehow managed to acquire.25 As a token of thanks Banks subsequently took responsibility for selecting and arranging the engravings for Staunton’s An Authentic Account of an Embassy from the King of Great Britain to the Emperor of China (1797). 192

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW In 1816, over two decades later, the HEIC tried again, and led this time by Lord Amherst (1773–1857) the mission departed from Spithead aboard HMS Alceste in late February. The attempts to develop diplomatic ties proved as equally futile as previously, but the mission was given unprecedented freedom during the four-month return journey from Canton to Peking. Thus, Clarke Abel, who was later to have the genus Abelia named for him (in 2013 it was reclassified into into Zabelia and Linnaea), who was both the embassy’s chief medical officer and a Banks-briefed capable natural historian, ably assisted by the Kew-trained gardener James Hooper, assembled a quantity of botanical information and a collection of much-desired live specimens, mostly purchased from plant nurseries. It is interesting to briefly note the niceties of the plant collecting arrangements fixed by Banks. Abel had volunteered to collect for Banks at no extra salary but with the promise of a gratuity from the HEIC if his collections were deemed worthy, but Hooper was paid a salary of £100 a year. The herbarium specimens were to go to the HEIC Museum (which had been established in 1801) and the collected seed to be presented to Kew by the HEIC directors; Banks promised to examine and arrange the specimens and, on the proviso that the British Museum also receive a part of the collected material, would ensure its co-operation in naming the specimens. But infuriatingly for Banks, Abel and Hooper’s hard work was for naught: a pirate attack on the homeward-bound Alceste and her subsequent shipwreck on a reef at the entrance to the Strait of Gaspar off the coast of Sumatra on 16 February 1817 resulted in the loss of all the collections. However, some duplicate specimens left at Canton in the care of Sir George Thomas Staunton (1781–1859), the son of Sir George, returned with him to London later that year. These were listed by Robert Brown in a botanical appendix to Abel’s Narrative of a Journey on the Interior of China . . . (1818). PLANT HUNTERS

Complementing and expanding his informal gifts-from-contacts and quid pro quo arrangement of advice for services and plants with the HEIC, Banks devised and implemented a Kew-based methodical and ordered acquisitions policy. For this 193

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Banks may rightfully be called the father of scientific plant hunting, for with the full support of the monarch, Banks dispatched Kew-trained gardeners to various destinations around the world specifically in order to collect plants. He also ensured their inclusion, or co-opted surgeon- or physician-naturalists, and sometimes both (in either case sometimes accompanied by an assistant from Kew), to operate as plant hunters on expeditions of discovery – be they naval voyages or land-based explorations. Their instructions: to collect botanically, that is to say all plants new to science and not to restrict their harvest to ornamental (garden) taxa. While the notion of sending out a plant hunter to collect exclusively for Kew was first presented to the king by Sir John Pringle in 1772, at a time when Banks’s oversight at Kew was in its embryonic stage, Banks’s fingerprints are all over the suggestion and the intended destination. He had discussed developing Kew with the king and had seen but not explored the bounteous flora of the South African Cape. An enthusiastic monarch gave his assent and financial backing, and so it was that in July 1772 Francis Masson (1741–1805, Plate 26), a Scottish under-gardener at Kew, sailed in the Resolution with Cook as far as Cape Town. Here he spent the next three years botanising the Cape Colony, in May 1773 making a collecting trip around the mountains of the Cape Peninsula with the Swedish botanist Carl Thunberg (1743–1828), a former pupil of Linnaeus. Published in the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions (1776), Masson’s lengthy paper ‘An Account of Three Journeys from the Cape Town into the Southern Parts of Africa in 1772–3–4 . . .’ is not only a riveting read but also the first instance of the name ‘Royal Botanical Gardens’ being used.26 Importantly, Masson’s impressive tally of over 500 new species fully met Banks’s hopes and expectations, justified his new policy and ensured that he received carte blanche from the king to continue sending out plant hunters (Plate 25). Masson was to make four more expeditions. The first of these, in May 1776, was to Madeira, the Canary Islands, the Azores and the Antilles. While at Grenada Masson was captured and imprisoned by the French, and at Saint Lucia he survived the ravages of a violent hurricane; his collections however did not. In 1783 he visited Portugal, Spain, Tangier and Morocco before travelling back to 194

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW Portugal and Madeira, returning to Britain in 1785. That October he departed for a second, decade-long expedition to South Africa. His last expedition from September 1797 was to ‘such parts of North America, under British Government, as appeared most likely to produce new and valuable plants’.27 Sadly, after eight years of disappointingly meagre discoveries (the most beautiful of his finds was Trillium grandiflorum) and suffering ill health, Masson died at Montreal on 23 December 1805. Exciting as the new additions to Kew’s collection undoubtedly were, many also posed cultivation challenges, requiring specific growing conditions if they were to survive and flourish. Consequently over the years Banks commissioned numerous glasshouses and hothouses, including in 1788 a lean-to glasshouse, 110 feet long, 17 feet wide and 14 feet high and heated by flues, for Masson’s South African collections. Later hothouses were home to Australian introductions and by 1800 there were at least two ‘infirmary’ or ‘hospital hothouses’ that provided a recuperative environment in which newly arrived yet ailing specimens were nursed back to health. THE PLANT HUNTER’S JOB DESCRIPTION

Between 1772 and 1816, and in addition to Masson, Banks dispatched plant hunters, (not including those gardeners who accompanied cargoes of plants to and from Kew aboard various vessels) to all corners of the globe. As he expanded the breadth and scope of his successful plant hunting programme, Banks became selective about the kind of man – all the plant hunters were male – he engaged. The ideal candidate was Scottish-educated – thus instilled with ‘the habits of industry, attention & frugality’ – and Kew-trained. He was industrious and sensible, mild-tempered and humble, obedient yet daring and possessed of high levels of personal integrity, dedication and loyalty to Kew (freelancing for commercial nurseries while in Kew’s employ was a cardinal sin). Once engaged, the would-be adventurer-botanist was thoroughly briefed by Banks prior to departure and once in the field was sent correspondence monitoring and directing his activities. For example, Masson was twice censured for making two unsanctioned journeys into the interior of the Cape. 195

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Yet for all the demands made on them, the remuneration was not generous: salaries and allowances ranged from Masson’s £100 a year plus an annual expense allowance of up to £200, down to David Nelson (d. 1789), who received £35 a year during his years aboard HMS Discovery. (For context the purchasing power of £100 in 1770 was £13,620 in 2019.)28 This modest, quiet and attentive man was recommended to Banks by James Lee. Having signed a contract with Banks on 26 April 1776, after three months of botanical and entomological studies at Kew he sailed with Cook on his third circumnavigation. A clear indication of the high regard in which Banks still held the master mariner and the warm respect he felt for their friendship was the famous portrait he commissioned from Sir Nathaniel Dance-Holland that year. Since 1828 it has graced the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College at Greenwich, but originally it hung above the fireplace in Banks’s library at Soho Square. And in another demonstration of the good relationships that persisted between the two men, Cook promised that Nelson would have ‘every assistance in my power to give him’,29 while Nelson agreed that he would: sail with Capt. Clerke on board his Majesties ship Discovery & that I will under Capt. Clerkes orders collect & preserve all such plants & Seeds of plants as I shall be able to find in all such places as the ship may touch at also that I will take & preserve as many insects as I shall be able & that I will send back or on my return give to Jos. Banks Esq’re my employer all & every one of such plants seeds & insects as I shall collect not retaining to my self or disposing of to any other person any of the Same . . .30

Little more is known about the unobtrusive Nelson, except that he made a second voyage for Banks aboard HMS Bounty (see pp. 217–21) for which he was provided with ‘£25 as an outfit to purchase clothes and necessaries, a salary of £50 a year with his mess on board’.31 A measure of his success, however, is the frequency with which his name appears on Banks’s herbarium sheets and within the pages of Hortus Kewensis. In 1785 Banks, asked by the government to nominate a naturalist to join the HMS Nautilus survey of the west coast of Africa with the aim of finding a suitable 196

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW site for a penal settlement, wrote to Aiton, expounding further on the character traits desirous in a plant hunter: he should be ‘active & healthy, able to write a good hand & willing to write down such observations as he may make. Whenever he lands he should have a little idea of botany & be well acquainted with the manner of gathering & drying specimens and be able to give some idea of the soil, whether sandy, loamy, clayey, boggy, etc., etc.’32 His choice in this instance was a Kew gardener, the Polish-born Anton Pantaleon Hove (fl. 1785–98). The mission was unable to find a suitable location for a settlement, but Hove did manage to plant-hunt at Namibia in 1785; having demonstrated ‘good sense & daring character’, he was then sent by Banks to India (1787–90) with the remit to covertly obtain seeds of robust cotton strains.33 For this contract he was paid £60 a year with an additional £50 for both kit and passage. However, Hove’s lack of a secondment to the HEIC upon his arrival resulted in his receiving little or no help, and consequently he suffered numerous difficulties. To add insult to injury, when after having been variously robbed (events of which Banks was unaware) Hove submitted expenses that Banks considered ‘most unjustifiably enormous’, he was threatened with instant return if he forthwith failed to keep his expenditure within budget.34 Eventually Hove sailed for home on 1 February 1789, but the captain of the East Indiaman was especially unobliging with care for the live plants so when at last Banks received the survivors his reaction was unfavourable to their quality. Hove wrote an account of his journeys which remained unpublished until 1855, when under the direction of William Gibson it appeared as Tours for Scientific and Economical Research made in Guzerat, Kattiawar, and the Conkuns, in 1787–88. THE NORTHWEST OF AMERICA

It has been observed that after 1773 Banks worked on a portfolio of projects simultaneously. One of them, for which he was a key initiator and instigator, was the establishment and development of the penal colony at Botany Bay. This is the subject of Chapter 7 and Banks’s role in plant transfers and plant hunting is examined there. In the case of the Vancouver Expedition to the northwest coast of America (1791-5) led by Captain George Vancouver (1757–98), Banks’s 197

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS objectives were multiple. By means of cultivating his extensive network of contacts including government ministers, Admiralty officials, naval commanders, merchants, explorers and of course botanists, Banks’s intention was to explore the possibilities of colonial expansion, enhance the nation’s international political influence, grow her trade and, of course, acquire plants for Kew. The inspiration for the voyage came from Cook’s third voyage, which for him had ended tragically in 1779 with his killing on Saint Valentine’s Day at Kealakekua Bay on the island of Hawai’i. The Resolution and Discovery returned to Sheerness on 4 October 1780 and in honour of his dead friend Banks took on the role of overseeing the preparation of the official voyage account. This notable and very personal task occupied Banks until April 1784 and required that he be principle supervisor of the twenty-five engravers working on John Webber’s illustrations and importantly, the institutional advisor to and coordinator of a project that saw four changes at the top of the Admiralty during its gestation. The result was A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, published in three large quarto volumes on 18 May 1784. Through this work Banks became familiar with Cook’s survey of the northwest coast of America and the possibility of a maritime trade in sea otter pelts. In January 1783, Joseph Billings, who had sailed with Cook, wrote to Banks proposing further exploration,35 but it was 1785 before the first trading vessel, commanded by James Hanna, reached the coast. The next year saw two expeditions launched, and while the one that departed from India led by James Strange highlighted the limitations of the fur trade it did discover and name Queen Charlotte Sound. This vast waterway between Vancouver Island in the south and Haida Gwaii in the north had been missed by Cook, and it was hoped by many including Banks and Alexander Dalrymple that it would contain inlets leading deep into the continent’s interior. The expedition that sailed from Britain did so under the aegis of the King George’s Sound Company, an association of merchants headed by Richard Cadman Etches (1765–1817). Banks visited the ships as they were being fitted out, naming one the Queen Charlotte, and Richard’s brother John Etches recorded that Banks was a loyal patron of the scheme ‘for prosecuting and converting to national utility the discoveries of the 198

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW late Captain Cook, and for the establishing a regular and reciprocal system of commerce between Great Britain, the North-west coast of America, the Japanese, Kureil, and Jesso islands, and the coast of Asia, Corea, and China’.36 The idea of developing trade with Japan (another country closed to Westerners) and China excited Banks, but Richard Etches, as he elaborated to Banks in July 1788, had an even more ambitious agenda: to establish a permanent base on the northwest coast of North America, perhaps manned by convicts. However, Britain was not the only power interested in this potentially rich area, Russia, France and Spain were also active; and at the beginning of February 1790 news arrived from Madrid of events at Nootka Sound, where four British trading vessels and property had been seized by the Spanish in response to the growing British presence and trading activity in the region. One of the first responses contemplated to the Nootka Crisis was the dispatch of HMS Discovery with a naval expeditionary force to establish a settlement as envisaged by Etches. Banks was consulted in the matter of what trade goods the new settlement would require, and he in turn sought advice from Archibald Menzies (1754–1842, Plate 27). A Scot from Perthshire, Menzies had studied botany and medicine at Edinburgh, and following a stint in private practice at Caernarfon, Wales joined the Royal Navy as assistant surgeon in HMS Nonsuch, seeing active service at the Battle of the Saintes in April 1782. Banks had been aware of Menzies since the mid-1780s, when aboard HMS Assistance at the Halifax station he had unsolicitedly sent Banks botanical information and a batch of seed for Kew. When his ship arrived back to Britain in August 1786, Menzies immediately dispatched to Banks a box of live Acadian plants and writing to him later in the month enclosed a formal letter of introduction from Dr Hope, a friend of Banks and Menzies’s botany tutor at Edinburgh University. Menzies informed Banks that he had been appointed surgeon to the Prince of Wales, ‘a private adventurer’ being fitted out by the King George’s Sound Company. His position, Menzies assured Banks, would not only ‘gratify one of my greatest worldly ambitions’ but also ‘afford one of the best opportunities of collecting seeds, and other objects of Natural History for you and the rest of my friends!’ Menzies continued by entreating Banks to intervene with Richard Etches to lift the prohibition on his trading for 199

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS ‘curiosities’ during the voyage, a waiver gladly granted on Banks’s request. Menzies set sail for the northwest coast of America in 1786, returning home three years later when from Deptford on 21 July 1789 he sent Banks a consignment of dried botanical specimens. Menzies now proffered the requested advice, but the Discovery’s departure was postponed while negotiations took place that culminated in the Nootka Sound Convention signed on 28 October 1790. Eventually she sailed on 1 April 1791 but on a voyage of diplomacy and exploration, not colonisation. However, during the planning a less than diplomatic antagonism developed between Banks and Captain Vancouver over what the latter perceived as the former’s meddling. One of the multifarious roles that Banks was developing for himself was the goto scientific authority on and advisor to voyages of discovery. A key surveying aim of this expedition was to determine whether any of the recently discovered inlets along the northwest coast did actually penetrate into the interior, and at the request of the secretary of state, William Grenville, Banks drew up (with the help of the geographer and pioneering oceanographer, James Rennell) what has been identified as ‘the most detailed guide for scientific and marine exploration ever set out in the eighteenth century’.37 Whether or not Vancouver, who had a capricious temper, received these particular instructions is unclear; though had he, being told how to do his job by a landlubber would no doubt have raised his hackles. What is not conjecture is that Vancouver resented Banks’s insistence that Menzies be appointed naturalist to the expedition, perceiving his presence as an intrusion. He further irritated Banks by refusing to appoint Menzies naturalist and surgeon (although when the surgeon became ill he took on his duties), and strongly objected to the Discovery being fitted – burdened, as he saw it – with a plant cabin erected on the quarter deck. Ever thorough, the pragmatic colonialist Banks issued Menzies with thirteen detailed paragraphs of instructions in a letter of 22 February 1791. Emphasising that it might at ‘any time hereafter be deemed expedient to send out Settlers from England’, Banks charged Menzies – in addition to collecting plants – with the preparation of what in essence was assessment of the new land’s suitability for a concerted colonisation. The climate, soil, possible exploitable 200

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW coal and mineral deposits, the ‘beasts, birds and fishes likely to prove useful as food or in commerce’, as well as the social life and crafts of the indigenous people were all to be studied and reported upon.38 With his first-hand experience of Vancouver’s intemperance and in order to protect a potentially vulnerable Menzies and his collections destined for Kew, Banks wanted from the Admiralty a copy of the instructions relating to Vancouver’s conduct towards the naturalist. However, because of delays and possible political obstructions it was not forthcoming, and in a letter to Menzies dated 10 August 1791 an exasperated Banks, referencing the discord between the two men, included a none-too-veiled warning about Vancouver’s temperament: How Captain Vancouver will behave to you is more than I can guess, unless I was to judge by his conduct toward me, which was not such as I am used to receive from persons in his situation . . . As it would be highly imprudent in him to throw any obstacle in the way of your duty, I trust he will have too much good sense to obstruct it. If he does, the instances whatever they are, will, of course appear as they happened in your journal, which, as it will be a justification to you, will afford ground for implicating the propriety of his conduct, which, for your sake, I will not fail to make use of.39

In the event, Vancouver did not exhibit good sense and Menzies did indeed fall foul of the argumentative captain. The surveying mission was a success but Vancouver was persistently obstructive, preventing Menzies from executing his instructions as thoroughly as Banks would have wished. He was particularly unhappy and unhelpful with Menzies using crew members to help prepare botanical specimens and care for the inhabitants of the plant cabin. Perhaps exacerbated by the strained relations between Vancouver and Banks, a personality clash arose when Menzies resolutely refused to hand over his journal to Vancouver, who believed it contained unfavourable comments about him. Their relationship deteriorated to such an extent that Menzies, as he wrote to Banks from Shannon, Ireland on 14 September 1795, had been arrested on July 28 for ‘insolence and contempt’ and confined to his cabin for the remainder of of the 201

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS voyage.40 Most of his live specimens perished through forced neglect, but thankfully the imprisoned Menzies was able to nurture in his cabin two seedling monkey puzzle trees (Araucaria araucana) that he had grown from nuts acquired from the viceroy of Chile’s dining table at Valparaiso. Some of his seed collection from earlier in the voyage he had already sent back to Kew and it is recorded in the Kew Record Book for 1793. Specimens grown from seed collected at King George Sound, Australia in 1791 were Banksia grandis and B. praemorsa. His dried specimens and journals also survived to tell of such ‘lost’ finds as Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii). The latter was later collected again by the plant hunter David Douglas in 1827 and it is he who receives the credit for its introduction; a plant not being considered ‘introduced’ until a living specimen was available for study in Britain (usually at Kew), being either brought into the country or raised here from gathered seed. Another link between the two men is that Menzies was the first European to reach the 13,679foot summit of Mauna Loa on the island of Hawai’i on 16 February 1794; Douglas was the second on 29 January 1834. However, upon Menzies’s return and receiving his report Banks was greatly angered by the death of so many of the live specimens, and placed the blame fairly and squarely on Vancouver. In consequence of Banks’s admonishment and the accounts of Vancouver’s (unwise but justified) repeated disciplining of able seaman Thomas Pitt – a bully and wastrel but also the cousin of the prime minister, William Pitt the Younger – Vancouver’s naval career stalled. Afflicted by an unknown illness (perhaps yellow fever contracted while on the West Indies station) that had troubled him throughout the voyage and which may have contributed to his erratic behaviour, Vancouver was dead, aged forty, within three years of his return. CHINA, SOUTH AMERICA AND AFRICA

Banks had a long held wish to send a plant hunter to Argentina but maritime disruption caused by the Napoleonic Wars thwarted this ambition. Instead he took advantage of an opportunistic letter sent by one David Lance, an amateur natural historian who was about to return to Canton as superintendent of the HEIC factory there. Lance enquired of Banks what he should collect and send 202

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW back to Kew; in reply Banks suggested instead that he take with him to China a Kew plant hunter.41 In April 1803 Banks wrote to John Roberts, chairman of the HEIC, that the king approved greatly of the enterprise as something which would bring ‘Reel advantage to this Country & her Colonies, as well as much improvement to the Science of Botany & to the Botanic Gardens at Kew, which are now a favorite Object of recreation to the whole of the Royal Family’.42 With royal approval secured, that same month William Kerr (d. 1814) was appointed to the role, and this Scot from Roxburghshire, son of a nurseryman and known to Banks for some years as a ‘well-behaved and considerate young man’ left Britain for the last time.43 The HEIC covered his travelling expenses, provided his meals at the factory at Canton, and Mr Roberts, chief of the factory, gave him accommodation – a small house belonging to his garden where Kerr was also permitted to nurture his plants. Kew paid only Kerr’s salary, a miserly £100 a year, which according to John Livingston, an HEIC surgeon and botanist who travelled out to China with Kerr and who in 1817 was elected a corresponding member of the Horticultural Society of London, was ‘a sum which in this part of China was not sufficient, after paying for washing, to keep up his stock of clothes so as to have anything to wash’.44 Banks’s detailed orders instructed Kerr to discover all he could about Chinese plant cultivation techniques and botany, to send regular communications and dispatches of live plants in modified plant cabins back to W.T. Aiton (see above, p. 188) at Kew. In particular he was to ‘pay special attention to plants producing fibres and other economic plants’.45 However, what seemed straightforward in the comfortable surroundings of Kew proved anything but in China. The fabled land full of mysterious and desirable flowers and fruit was less than happy to share its treasures. Livingston claimed Kerr confided in him that had it not been for the kindness of Roberts ‘he could not have done so much’.46 Yet in spite of all the difficulties faced and though many plants died in transit because of improper preparations – Chinese gardeners potted up plants in a heavy clay soil that proved unsuitable for long-distance sea travel – Kerr managed to send back to London (and to Roxburgh at Calcutta) successive consignments of exciting new 203

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS plants. Among his finest Chinese introductions were a yellow-flowered shrub (named Kerria japonica in his honour), Banks’ rose (Rosa banksiae), the beautiful China fir (Cunninghamia lanceolata) and the lovely tiger lily (Lilium lancifolium), as well as Camellia sasanqua and Lonicera japonica. Kerr sent packets of seed, collected personally near Macao, of 129 wild taxa; and when collecting near Macao became impossible because of marauding pirates he took an unauthorised trip to Manila in the Philippines between December 1804 and September 1805. For this transgression he received a reprimand from Banks who wished him to concentrate on temperate plants, although he did have the grace to acknowledge the quality of Kerr’s tropical collections. Nevertheless, there was implicit criticism from Livingston that Kerr could and should have achieved more: ‘By degrees, habits of indulgence stole on him’; habits which prevented him actively collecting. Instead he was by now purchasing plants from local nurseries such as the famous fa te or ‘flower gardens’ of Canton; and ‘not infrequently from his habits, and from their natural consequences, falls, bruises and sprains rendered him unable to do anything for days and weeks’.47 These ‘habits’, one can only surmise, were opium-smoking. An escape from vice and reward for his efforts finally came to Kerr in 1810 with his appointment as superintendent at the new Botanic Garden at Peradeniya, Ceylon (now Royal Botanic Gardens, Peradeniya, Sri Lanka). Two years earlier Banks had advised the secretary of state at the Department of War and the Colonies on the establishment of the garden ‘with a view to the increase of the resources of that Colony & an improvement of the science of botany in Europe’.48 For reasons unknown Kerr did not take up his post until 1812, when he spent a happy year developing the gardens to his satisfaction before travelling inland to plant-hunt in the region around Sri Pada (Adam’s Peak). Sadly though he lived barely two years to enjoy his new post before dying of a tropical illness. His replacement was another Kew-trained man, Alexander Moon, who sailed for the island in July 1816. After a layover at Gibraltar caused by HMS Minden being seconded into action against Algerian pirates, during which time he botanised in various locations around the western Mediterranean sending seed back to Kew from the environs of the Rock, San Roque and Tétouan, Moon 204

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW arrived at Colombo in early 1817. Here as well as competently managing the botanic garden he plant hunted; the last letter received by Banks from him, dated 8 May 1819, records 373 types of seed sent to Kew which he had gathered in the province of Kandy.49 He developed a herbarium and had botanical drawings made; his work was eventually published in Colombo in 1824 as Catalogue of Indigenous and Exotic Plants in Ceylon . . . In 1814, with Napoleon’s abdication raising hopes of an end to hostilities with the French, William Townsend Aiton (1766–1849), who in 1793 had succeeded his father as superintendent at Kew, excitedly wrote to Banks that he had gardeners ready and willing to plant-hunt in all corners of the globe. The seventy-one-year-old Banks replied on 7 June: ‘The connection I have been permitted to form with the Royal [Botanic] Gardens at Kew is among those most grateful to my feelings, and I beg you to be assured that as long as I shall be permitted to continue it I shall cherish and improve it to the best of my power.’50 True to his word, Banks secured funding from the Treasury and with the prince regent’s sanction (the king was by this time incapacitated by the malady – porphyria or a form of mental illness are generally cited – that dogged his last decade), Banks at last managed to realise his South American ambition, dispatching two more Scots, James Bowie (c. 1789–1869) and Allan Cunningham (1791–1839) to Brazil. Paid by the Treasury £180 a year plus whatever expenses Banks would sanction they sailed aboard HMS Duncan on 3 October arriving at Rio de Janeiro on 28 December 1814. Banks had secured for the pair a letter from the Foreign Office to Lord Stangford, the British ambassador at Rio de Janeiro, and, with the Portuguese only slightly more welcoming than when the Endeavour had called in 1768, a permit to travel was granted after two months of petitioning. Now the two men set off on their two years of plant hunting in the three provinces of Rio Grande, St. Paul’s and Minas Geraes, as well as in the region of Rio de Janeiro, in particular the botanical hotspot of the Organ Mountains, which yielded bromeliads and orchids. In September 1816 the pair parted ways. Bowie sailed for Cape Town, where Banks initially restricted his plant hunting to the area around the Cape and tasked him with re-collecting those of Masson’s introductions that had perished after their arrival at Kew. Bowie was dutifully to 205

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS undertake his tasks until he was recalled in 1823 when at the start of Kew’s temporary decline collecting funds dried up. Cunningham meanwhile sailed for Australia. Arriving in December 1816, he was to spend the next fifteen years greatly advancing knowledge of the Antipodean flora (see below, pp. 251–2). In July 1815 Lord Bathurst, secretary of state at the Department of War and the Colonies proposed an expedition to explore the River Zaire (today’s River Congo) upstream to ascertain whether or not it was confluent with the River Niger. Towards the end of the month the Admiralty came up with the notion of commissioning its first steam-powered warship for the purpose, and quickly involved Banks in the planning. Characteristically, the seventy-two-year-old gave his all to the project, even though in early August he claimed that he was only interested in arranging the expedition’s natural history element. He threw himself into the minutiae of the paddle-wheel-driven vessel, and particularly its engine design – but in the event HMS Congo turned out to be very well suited to her task once the 30-ton engine, underperforming and coal-hungry, was removed following disappointing sea trials. Banks also proffered his views on the political exigencies of mounting such a venture, drew up a very detailed ‘memorandum of instruction’ and oversaw the troublesome recruitment of the four-man scientific team. The supernumeraries eventually comprised John Cranch (1785– 1816) as collector of objects of natural history, the surgeon William Tudor as comparative anatomist, the young Danish professor of botany at Christiania (today’s Oslo), Christen Smith (1785–1816) as botanist, assisted by the Kewtrained plant hunter David Lockhart (1786–1845). On 16 February 1816 the Congo, accompanied by the transport HMS Dorothy, set sail from Deptford down the Channel, but it was 19 March before they departed Falmouth for Africa. Sadly though, the expedition under the command of Captain James Hingston Tuckey (1776–1816) was an ill-fated one. The Congo managed to penetrate only 100 miles upriver, as far as the Yellala Falls, from where an attempted overland crossing decimated the party. The forty-year-old Tuckley and his fellow officers were all dead by the end of October, and of the fifty-six-man team, twenty-one (including Smith) perished. The c. 250 new plant species – Lockhart brought Smith’s dried specimens, notes and journal to Banks 206

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW in June 1817 – scarcely made up for such a loss of life. The plant material subsequently received due attention from Robert Brown in his ‘Observations Systematical and Geographical of Professor Christen Smith’s Collection of Plants from the Vicinity of the River Congo’.51 The account also included a translation of Smith’s journal, which Banks subsequently arranged to be published separately by the African Association in 1819. It may have been the expedition’s tragic loss of life to ‘tropical fever’ that prompted Banks to call for the acquisition of Cinchona seed and the establishment of colonial plantations in order to secure a reliable source of quinine for the treatment of malaria. This though did not happen until the aftermath of the 1857 Indian Mutiny, when in an act of botanical piracy Kew dispatched Clements R. Markham (1830–1916) to steal Cinchona seed from Bolivia and Peru. ACHIEVEMENTS OF BANKS’S PLANT HUNTING POLICY

W.T. Aiton categorically stated of Kew in 1801 that ‘this establishment is placed under the direction of Sir Joseph Banks’,52 and to put his collecting achievement into perspective, nowhere else in Britain or Europe and likely the world grew as great a range of introduced plants. When Banks set sail in the Endeavour in 1768 a mere 600 taxa were cultivated there; when the second, enlarged edition of Hortus Kewensis appeared in five volumes between 1810 and 1813 (prepared by W.T. Aiton) it described over 11,000 taxa growing. Dominant among the newcomers were species from Australia (c. 300), South America (c. 260), Siberia (c. 220) and China (c. 120). Masson, Kew’s first and perhaps most successful plant hunter, was responsible for nearly 1,000 taxa introduced from South Africa: 183 species of Erica, 175 of Mesembryanthemum (now variously renamed) 102 of Pelargonium, fifty-seven of Oxalis and forty-two of Stapelia were his biggest hauls. Kew became a place of botanical pilgrimage for gardeners wishing to see the latest introductions, and was instrumental in driving the nation’s obsession with gardening novelty. Banks was generally happy to share Kew’s hard-acquired bounty – just so long as Kew received the new plants first and only when the particular species had been propagated sufficiently to be no longer rare. Nurserymen in particular begged for seeds and cuttings with which to feed 207

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS wealthy gardeners’s insatiable desire for foreign species, and the turnaround could be impressively swift. For example, in 1794, only six years after the first seeds of the crimson bottlebrush (then Metrosideros citrina and now Callistemon citrinus) arrived at Kew from Australia, The Botanical Magazine reported that young plants were available in ‘most of the Nurseries near town’;53 and between 1804 and 1812, W.T. Aiton propagated and distributed more than 10,000 tiger lily (Lilium lancifolium) bulbs.54 Nevertheless, Banks was very protective of the king’s collection and would not be bullied into parting with Kew’s treasures. Take, for example, the case of the marquess of Blandford, who constantly pestered him for specimens and cuttings for his renowned garden at Whiteknights, Reading.55 In 1796 Lord Blanford accompanied Banks, Lord Galloway and the king on a walk at Kew; the king knowing of the thirty-year-old Blandford’s interest in gardening generously indicated that, occasionally and when there was surplus, Blandford might receive specimens from Kew. Blandford mistook civility for right of supply and became increasing indignant when W.T. Aiton repeatedly refused his demands for the rare and unusual (‘the King was not very fond of parting with his plants’). This heir to the Marlborough dukedom was not used to being so gainsaid, and on 1 December 1797 wrote Banks a supremely self-righteous and overbearing sixpage missive criticising Aiton, setting out his believed claim to His Majesty’s largesse and ending with a demand concerning some stapelias: ‘I must impose further on your goodness to order Mr Aiton to send them.’ Banks was having none of it, and in an exquisitely polite reply he placed his support fully behind Aiton and spelt out exactly what the noble bully could – and could not – expect from Kew, reminding His Lordship that he, Banks, would only part with plants ‘provided that the superiority which his Majestie’s Garden has for some years held over other Gardens of this Country is not put in hazard by Parting with many species which Kew alone possesses’, going on to conclude that he was the sole judge on that score. The king, however, was more than willing to use the resources of Kew for political ends. In 1793 a request was received from the Russian empress, Catherine II (Catherine the Great) for plants from Kew with which to adorn the hothouses 208

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW and new gardens at Tsarskoye Selo and Pavlovsk palaces, both south of Saint Petersburg, where the grounds were being laid out in the latest English landscape style. What King George had Banks send was not simply a generous gift between rulers but very much a political gesture of international diplomacy, aimed at securing Russian support against Napoleon and his allies in the Baltic, Denmark and Sweden, as well as to bolster Anglo-Russian trading relations. The war with France caused a delay in fulfilling the empress’s wishes, but in the spring of 1795 (probably on 4 April) when the king and Banks were having one of their regular chats, His Majesty commanded that the botanist select, pack and ship as complete a collection of exotics as could be spared from Kew. The royal gift was to further include architectural drawings of the greenhouses that would be needed to house the tender treasures against the harsh winters and a Kew gardener on loan to instruct his Russian counterpart in the necessary cultivation techniques. In early July a consignment of 300 potted plants, some 226 species from 130 genera, mostly from South Africa and the Antipodes, together with George Noe set off from London aboard a Russia Company ship, the Venus (for which Banks had especially designed a two-tier structure in order to accommodate the potted plants in the hold), escorted by HMS Daedalus. The empress was delighted and awarded Noe with 100 ducats and a gold watch; on the other hand Banks, who had advanced from his own pocket the £162 cost of the operation, was kept waiting three years before being refunded – with no word of thanks – by the Treasury.56 Banks was also careful with the king’s purse: for all that Kew was His Majesty’s plant collection, the monarch directly footed only a relatively small part of the bill for its amassing, mostly just the plant hunter’s salary (and not always that if the plant hunter was the naturalist on a naval voyage of discovery). Much of the cost of collecting was instead borne either by various government departments, including the Home Office and the Board of Trade, the HEIC which carried and accommodated the plant hunters and paid for the Chinese embassies, or the Admiralty. Furthermore, in certain cases, for example that of Menzies and Brown (see above, pp. 199–202 and below, p. 248), the ever-persuasive Banks convinced the Admiralty to continue to paying the naturalists’ salaries upon their return 209

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS while they arranged and publishing their collections. This paradigm of the Admiralty partly funding botany and taxonomy continued after Banks’s death: nineteenth-century beneficiaries included Thomas Henry Huxley, Charles Darwin and Joseph Dalton Hooker. Yet it must be remembered that Banks’s success came at a cost to his plant hunters. Banks drew up contracts that paid low wages (although he did reward loyalty with some compensation in the form of promotion or pension or Royal Bounty57) and he, possessed himself of a strong sense of duty, expected purpose and fortitude from his employees. This was made patently clear in his reply to criticisms that a second expedition to Africa (albeit to explore not plant-hunt) planned for Mungo Park in 1803 (see below, pp. 299–302) was too dangerous: ‘I am aware that Mr Park’s expedition is one of the most hazardous a man can undertake; but I cannot agree with those who think it too hazardous to be attempted: it is by similar hazards of human life alone that we can hope to penetrate the obscurity of the internal face of Africa . . . and can explore it only by incurring the most frightful hazards.’58 Easy to say when sitting safe in one’s London library, and while it must not be forgotten that what Banks was achieving was pioneering, he can be accused of displaying an ambiguous concern for the fate of his plant hunters – most of whom suffered illness and hardship, and some of whom died for him and Kew in the field or at some foreign posting. Courteous and polite when all was going well, and on occasion supportive when disaster struck, he could be unfairly judgemental and critical when not getting the results he expected, and not in possession of all the facts. Nevertheless, the impact of Banks’s methodical approach to professional plant hunting can still be felt today. The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew continues to send out plant hunters to collect, an activity now controlled and regulated by international treaties, and with the focus purely on science and conservation. And Banks’s influence is felt every time we visit an American, Australian, European and especially a British garden or garden centre. The vast majority of the ornamental garden plants are not native but are on view in gardens because of the activities of numerous plant hunters, who throughout the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth centuries introduced literally tens of thousands 210

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW of new species to British shores. The work these men did was the direct result of the pioneering plant hunting policy devised by Banks. They too, as had their predecessors from Kew, explored and collected in parts of the world often previously unvisited by Westerners, but in their case their expeditions were driven by the insatiable appetite of British gardeners for novelty. However, in the aftermath of the deaths of both Banks and King George III in 1820 Kew fell into decline, until in 1837 a government commission was established to review all royal palaces and gardens. When it reported in 1841, the recommendation made for Kew was that it be revivified as a scientific institution: nationalised, centrally funded and with Sir William Hooker appointed as the first official director. He reinstated Kew’s plant hunting policy and his son, Joseph Dalton Hooker, made one of the most notable expeditions – becoming the first Westerner to botanise the then Kingdom of Sikkim in the eastern Himalayas between 1847 and 1851. Joseph’s most influential ornamental discovery was twenty-eight species of brightly coloured rhododendrons which became the parents of the ‘hardy Hybrids’ and many of the cultivars we still grow today. During the intervening years however, the baton of plant hunting had passed to the Horticultural Society of London (since 1861 the Royal Horticultural Society) of which Banks had been a founding member in 1804 (see Chapter 8, part III). It shifted the focus on plant hunting to specifically ornamental taxa, and its two most notable plant hunters were David Douglas (1799–1834) and Robert Fortune (1812–80). Douglas explored the Pacific Northwest of America on two expeditions (July 1824 to October 1827 and October 1829 to July 1834), and as well as introducing many of those species discovered by Menzies that had died on the return journey, he discovered a wealth of new conifers including Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis), lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta), Monterey pine (Pinus radiata) and noble fir (Abies procera). In the aftermath of the First Opium War (1839–42), Fortune became the first plant hunter to explore the interior of eastern China on his first of four expeditions between 1843 and 1846. Among Fortune’s loveliest introductions were Anemone hupehensis var. japonica, Forsythia viridissima, Jasminum nudiflorum, Mahonia japonica and Weigela florida. 211

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS China, in particular Yunnan and Sichuan, as well as Japan became the destinations for another group of plant hunters, those employed by commercial nurseries. The most successful of these in the second half of the nineteenth century and up until the First World War were the Veitch Nurseries of Exeter and later, London. However, their first plant hunters, the Cornish brothers William (1809–64) and Thomas Lobb (1811–94) were respectively sent to South America (and later California) and Southeast Asia. The paradigm established by Veitch was a win-win-win one: those introductions new to science sold at a premium price to wealthy, elite garden-owners; those already known but still relatively unusual in cultivation sold at a good price to middle-class villa gardenowners; and in both cases many plants became the raw material for Veitch’s team of expert plant-breeders who developed new, desirable and profitable cultivars. A last group who employed plant hunters were private individuals, either as sole patron, for example J.C. Williams of Caerhays Castle, Cornwall who sponsored the Scottish botanist George Forrest’s third expedition to Yunnan, China (1912–15), or in a consortium (which sometimes also included institutions). For example, Forrest’s fourth trip (1917–20) to Yunnan was sponsored by, among others J.C. Williams, the Royal Horticultural Society, the duke of Bedford and G.W.E. Loder.

III BOTANY, ECONOMICS AND EMPIRE Over the years Banks achieved his aim that Kew should hold the finest and most diverse live collection of botanical specimens. Yet it was not just as a botanical repository that Banks conceived a role and purpose for the garden. A consummate colonialist, Banks perceived exploration, colonisation and commerce as complementary; and cognisant as he was to the economic value of certain commodity plants, he was adamant that they should contribute to the nation’s commercial life and finances. Moreover, he recognised a geopolitical strategic need for self-sufficiency in certain plant products. Banks’s work on and interactions with the various councils, committees and branches of government 212

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW is explored in more detail in Chapter 8, but a resourceful Banks also transformed the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew into an empirical centre for economic botany; what in a letter to the MP Henry Dundas of 15 June 1787 he termed ‘a great botanical exchange house for the empire’.59 COLONIAL BOTANIC GARDENS AND PLANT EXCHANGE

But in order for Kew to be an effective clearing house managing global transfers it needed the support of a network of satellite colonial botanic gardens, be they established by local colonial administrations, the British government, or the HEIC. As well as receiving plants from Kew, conducting research and assisting with the establishment of plantations, these establishments supported plant hunting activities within the country and sent back plants, economically important or otherwise, to Kew. The policy was so successful and efficient that a list published by the Kew Bulletin in 1899 named forty-nine ‘Botanical Departments and Establishments . . . in India, and the Colonies, in Correspondence with Kew’.60 During Banks’s lifetime many came under the superintendency of Kew-trained botanists who retained a loyalty to Banks and their alma mater, and who could be relied on to progress Banks’s botanical aims. The West Indies islands of Grenada, Dominica, Saint Vincent and Tobago were ceded to Great Britain at the Peace of 1763, and two years later the first colonial botanic garden was established at Saint Vincent (which, because the island was a military garrison, came under the responsibility of the Ministry of War). It was the brain child of Dr George Young, the medical officer to General Robert Melville, the governor of the islands (with the exception of Grenada). Melville fully supported a garden with ‘the cultivation and improvement of many plants now growing wild and the importation of others from similar climates’.61 The War Office subsequently consulted Banks about the garden’s management, and the Kew-trained Alexander Anderson and George Caley became superintendents here. Others followed. The Liguanea Botanic Garden at Jamaica for example came into existence in 1775 by a vote of the Jamaican House of Assembly, and was overseen by James Wiles, the competent gardener of the Providence voyage (see below, pp. 221–2); the aforementioned Hon’ble Company’s Botanic Garden, 213

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Calcutta was founded in 1786 (see above, p. XX); and towards the end of the century Kew played a large role in Governor Sir George Yonge’s revitalisation of the botanic garden at Cape Town; Peradeniya at Ceylon, founded 1810 ‘with a view to the increase of the resources of that Colony & an improvement of the science of botany in Europe’,62 has also been mentioned (see above, pp. 190–1); the Royal Botanic Gardens, Trinidad meanwhile was founded in 1818, where David Lockhart, the survivor of Tuckey’s Africa debacle, became the first superintendent. Helping to fund these colonial botanic gardens and filling a niche in matters of practical economy that the Royal Society did not undertake was the Society of Arts (of which Banks was a member from 1764). Established economic plants – tobacco, banana, sugar, indigo, coffee, teak, sago – were routinely transferred between colonies and to new colonies, but Banks was always on the outlook for new opportunities. However, pioneers do not always succeed at the first attempt and in other instances plans take longer than expected to come to fruition. So it was with Banks’s economic plant transfers. He was clear-sighted and prescient, but for a variety of reasons (some political and commercial, others the result of circumstances – negligence, inattention and mutiny, for instance) the outcome was not what he anticipated, or was not realised until after his death. Anton Hove’s mission to Gujarat in 1787 to acquire Indian strains of cotton for transfer to the West Indies, where plantations would supply raw cotton to Manchester’s cotton mills, for example, was only partially successful. COCHINEAL

In February 1787 Banks began a correspondence with Dr James Anderson, later physician-general of the HEIC, on the subject of breaking the Spanish monopoly on carmine dye by establishing production in India. This required the illegal acquisition and transfer of both the source of the dye – the cochineal scale insect (Dactylopius coccus) – and its foodstuff – the nopal cactus (Opuntia spp.) – or the discovery of a substitute native Indian plant on which the insects could live. Over the next eight years, and with increasing frustration, Banks worked on the transfer with an increasingly unco-operative HEIC. After various false starts, on 5 May 1795 Christopher Smith (d.1807) at the Calcutta Botanical Garden at last received 214

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW from Rio de Janeiro two nopal plants covered with ‘that kind of Cochineal Insect upon them called Sylvester’,63 and by chance discovered that the insects thrived on one yellow-flowered native species of Opuntia. Specimens of the insect were sent to Banks in London and a year later on 18 August 1796 Banks reported his success to Sir Hugh Inglis, a director at the HEIC. All that was needed now, Banks enthused was to secure better forms of the insect. Yet, as was its wont when it came to changing trade policy, the HEIC was slow to embrace an opportunity. An exasperated Banks (he had been especially vexed by the publication of a confidential report detailing the project) informed the HEIC that unless he was given control over the project going forward and sufficient funds he would cease his involvement. Neither assurances nor cash were forthcoming and so ended in partial failure through no fault of his own an attempt by Banks to diversify colonial production, increase trade and grow Britain’s business.64 TEA AND HEMP

The establishment of colonial tea gardens and a British tea industry was another enterprise that Banks and the government recognised would bring great economic benefits. Lord Hawkesbury, president of the Board of Trade, who was concerned at the loss to China each year of between £600,000 and £700,000 of silver bullion (the only commodity that the Chinese would trade for tea), asked Banks for his opinions on cultivating tea in ‘some Part of the British Dominions in the East and West Indies’.65 Banks presented his reply in May 1788, noting both that the tea plant (Camellia sinensis) had been growing in British gardens since about 1770, and that three years previously, and at a personal cost of £50, he had sent 100 tea plants to Pierre Broussonet (1761–1807, a French naturalist and correspondent of Banks’s) for trial at Corsica, the results of which he was still awaiting. As to the ‘where’, Assam, India, to Banks seemed ‘fittest for the experiment’; but with all attempts to produce tea in Britain ending in failure, the ‘how’ – acquiring the knowledge and technology for processing the leaf into tea – Banks flagged as the bigger problem. In November 1788 and this time at the request of Francis Baring (1740–1810), deputy-chairman of the Court of Directors of the HEIC, Banks prepared a scholarly appraisal of tea cultivation 215

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS and manufacture. Delivered on 27 December to William Devaynes, the 2,000word paper, based in large part on volumes from his own library, additionally offered practical advice on how to tempt Chinese tea-makers and growers to migrate to India and there to divulge their knowledge.66 However, and once again in large part due to the HEIC’s obstinately uncooperative attitude to changing trading practices (allied in this case to ambivalence – it was after all a private company making a vast profit from the Chinese tea trade), what would have been Banks’s most significant economic transfer did not happen until nearly three decades after his death. Then, in the aftermath of the First Opium War (1839–42) and under changed circumstances the HEIC came to recognise the benefits of a ‘home-grown’ tea industry. Consequently, in 1848 the plant hunter Robert Fortune was contracted to acquire seed, seedlings, growers and equipment, which were shipped to Assam from China. Although not requiring an equivalent act of biopiracy, the story of hemp followed a similar pattern as tea, and became a major Indian crop only in the years after Banks’s death. A vast quantity of the fibre was used in the manufacture of ship’s cordage, making an assured and self-sufficient supply a matter of national security. In 1801 the Privy Council Committee for Trade and Plantations (of which Banks was a member) reviewed the issue and recommended that, as well as the HEIC cultivating hemp in India, a supply should be grown closer to home. In another example of the inter-agency co-operation at which he excelled, Banks simultaneously advised the HEIC and liaised with the Navy Board in order to establish an experimental hemp farm in Ireland. Banks also had hemp trialled in New South Wales and in 1806 the Committee for Trade declared the results encouraging. However, Australia’s economic future was to become integrally linked not to a plant product but to an animal one – the wool of the Merino sheep, an agricultural activity for which, again, Banks was partly responsible (see below, pp. 255–8). BREADFRUIT

Banks’s most famous plant transfer was at its first attempt his most spectacular failure. Banks had eaten breadfruit while at Tahiti, where he had observed how 216

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW prolifically the tree fruited and the ease with which it was propagated. Not too long after the Endeavour’s return, and in a letter dated 17 April 1772, Captain Valentine Morris, the owner of extensive sugar plantations at Saint Vincent proposed the introduction of breadfruit, ‘certain it would be the greatest blessing to the inhabitants’.67 What Morris really meant was he believed that breadfruit would provide plantation owners with an inexpensive foodstuff to feed their slaves. This view was reiterated twelve years later by the plantation owner Hinton East (see above, p. 187), during his time serving as member for Kingston in the Jamaican House of Assembly. Breadfruit, he assured Banks, would be ‘of infinite importance to the West India Islands, in affording a wholesome and pleasant food to our negroes, which would have the great advantage of being raised with infinitely less labour than the plantain, and not be subject to danger from excessively strong winds’.68 Supported by the Standing Committee of West Indian Planters and Merchants, and with financial inducements from the Society of Arts, a proposal was put forward to make the transfer. When, however, it garnered no support Banks was asked to intervene directly. Ever persuasive, in 1787 Banks convinced the home secretary, Lord Sydney, of the merits of the plan, and the Admiralty was ordered to despatch HMS Bounty to the Pacific. The commander chosen – at Banks’s recommendation – was Lieutenant William Bligh (1754–1817), formerly master in the Resolution on Cook’s last voyage, and known to Banks since the early 1780s through his work preparing the official voyage account (see above, p. 198). In recognition of Bligh’s skilled surveying work while on the Resolution Banks had advocated that he receive a one-eighth share of the profits of the publication. Writing on 30 May 1787 to his old friend Lord Sandwich, now retired from the Admiralty, Banks named David Nelson – who had proved himself a successful collector aboard the Discovery – as the gardener tasked with collecting seedling breadfruit trees at Tahiti and overseeing their care during transportation to the West Indies; William Brown, another Kew gardener, was appointed his assistant. As an exemplar of an incredibly thorough Banksian briefing, his instructions for the transfer are reproduced here in full: 217

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS As the sole object of Government in chartering this vessel in our service at a very considerable expense is to furnish the West Indian Islands with the Bread-fruit and other valuable productions of the East, the master and crew of her must not think it a grievance to give up the best part of her accommodations for that purpose. The difficulty of carrying plants by sea is very great a small sprinkling of salt water, or of the salt dew which fills the air even in a moderate gale, will inevitably destroy them if not immediately washed off with fresh water. It is necessary therefore that the cabin be appropriated to the sole purpose of making a kind of greenhouse, and the key of it given to the custody of the gardener; and that in case of cold weather in going round the Cape a stove be provided, by which it may be kept in a temperature equal to that of the intertropical countries. The fittest vessels for containing the plants that can easily be obtained I conceive to be casks, sawed down to a proper height, and properly pierced in their bottoms to let the water have a passage; in both which articles the gardener’s directions must be followed. Of such half-tubs, properly secured to the floor as near to each other as they can stand, a considerable number may find room in the cabin, each of which will hold several plants; and these I consider as a stock which cannot be damaged or destroyed but by some extraordinary misfortune. As these tubs, which will be very heavy, must be frequently brought upon deck for the benefit of the sun, the crew must assist in moving them; as indeed they must assist the gardener on all occasions in which he stands in need of their help. Beside these must be provided tubs so deep that the tops of the plants will not reach to their edges. These must be lashed all round the Quarter Deck, along the Boom, and in every place where room can possibly be found for them, and for each a cover of canvas must be made to fit it; which covers it will be the duty of the gardener to put on and take off as he judges fitting; and no one else must interfere with him in so doing on any account whatever. As the plants will frequently want to be washed, from the salt dampness which the sea air will deposit upon them, beside allowance of water a considerable provision must be made for that purpose; but, as the vessel will have no cargo whatever but the plants on board, there will be abundant room 218

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW for water-casks, of which she must be supplied with as large a quantity as possible, that the gardener may never be refused the quantity of water he may have occasion to demand. No Dogs, Cats, Monkeys, Parrots, Goats, or indeed any animals whatever must be allowed on board, except Hogs and Fowls for the Company’s use; and they must be carefully confined to their coops. Every precaution must be taken to prevent or destroy the Rats, as often as convenient. A boat with green boughs should be laid alongside with a gangway of green boughs laid from the hold to her, and a drum kept going below in the vessel for one or more nights; and as poison will constantly be used to destroy them and cockroaches, the crew must not complain if some of them who may die in the ceiling make an unpleasant smell. As it is likely that the easterly winds will prevail to the south of the Line from the month of March to that of September, it is to be hoped that the vessel will be fitted out with as much despatch as is convenient, with a view of her not losing a year, which will be the case if she misses the first monsoon. Her first destination will be New Zealand, where she is to take on board two tubs of flax plants. From thence she is to proceed to the Society Isles, where she must stay till the gardener has produced a full stock of Bread-fruit trees; and if Otaheite, which will probably be visited first, should not supply a sufficient number of such as are of a proper age for transplanting, she must proceed to Imao, Maitea, Huaheine, Ulietea [Raiatea], and Bolabola [Bora Bora], and stay till enough are procured. She is next to proceed toward the Endeavour Straits, which separate New Holland from New Guinea; and if she wants water in her passage she may put into the Friendly Isles in making the Straits, which lie in Lat.10 40′. The master must not be surprized if he falls in with a reef. He may be assured that with a little attention he may explore a passage through it. In these Straits he must find some harbour in which he may fill water, which there cannot be any difficulty in performing. From thence to Prince’s Island in the Straits of Sunda will be the best run; and if water should be wanted in the passage, it may be procured at 219

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Java, where the Endeavour watered. At Prince’s Island the gardener will have some trees to get on board, which may make it necessary to spend some time there. From thence to the Isle of France will be an easy run, and from thence round the Cape; at which place the ship must not touch unless there is absolute necessity. They must proceed to St. Helena, where she will receive orders from England pointing out the places in the West Indies at which she is to touch and deliver cargo.69

Fitted-out with a plant cabin and carrying Nelson’s specially designed, deep clay plant pots instead of Banks’s recommended half-barrels for transporting the trees, the Bounty set sail from Spithead, at the second attempt because of foul weather, on 23 December 1787. And for Banks, who had suffered his first attack of gout the previous month, there was now a nearly two-year hiatus before he received news of the treacherous fate that had befallen the expedition. The Bounty reached Tahiti on 26 October 1788 and over the next five and a half months Nelson and Brown collected and potted up 1,005 young breadfruit trees before Bligh raised the anchor on 5 April 1789. Twenty-three days later, when the ship was about 30 nautical miles south of the island of Tofua in Tonga’s Ha‘apai island group, the infamous ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’ took place. This is not the place for a long analysis of the causes; but a likely contributory factor was the length of time spent at Tahiti, which resulted in certain of the crew becoming enamoured with both the island and its female inhabitants. The famous painting by Robert Dodd (1748–1815), ‘The mutineers Turning Lt Bligh and Some of the Officers and Crew adrift from His Majesty’s Ship Bounty, 29 April 1789’, shows the nineteen loyal men, including the gardener Nelson, in the 23- foot longboat with, in the background, the mutineers (including Nelson’s assistant Brown, later murdered at Pitcairn Island) throwing the potted trees overboard (Plate 28). Bligh’s remarkable achievement in taking the small, overloaded and seriously under-provisioned boat safely over 3,500 nautical miles of ocean to Timor which was reached on 15 June (and where Nelson died on 20 July at Kupang) with nothing more than a sextant, a compass, nautical tables and the carpenter’s tool chest to aid him, remains one of the most accomplished feats of 220

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW navigation in sailing history. Arriving finally at Batavia on 1 October 1789, where he too, like so many of the men of the Endeavour before him, caught fever, Bligh penned a long, explanatory letter to Banks on the 13th before setting out for Britain three days later. Upon his return on 14 March 1790, as was standard procedure for a naval commander who lost his ship, Bligh was court-martialed. He was honourably acquitted, and in spite of his failure he must have been gratified too by the 500 guineas awarded him for his attempted plant transfer by the Jamaican House of Assembly. The same assembly had, on 20 December 1788, passed a resolution of thanks to Banks ‘for his benevolent Endeavours, exerted for the benefit of the West Indies in general and of this Island in particular to procure the Bread-fruit tree and other valuable plants from the East Indies and South Seas’.70 Banks was bitterly disappointed by Bligh’s failure but, never one to waste time and emotion on pointless recrimination, by the end of December 1790 he had secured the backing of Lord Auckland at the Board of Trade and the Admiralty to try again. With Bligh once again in command, this time of HMS Providence, and accompanied by Lieutenant Portlook in the Assistance, the expedition departed London on 2 August 1791, returning two years later, having first landed about 300 healthy young breadfruit trees at both Saint Vincent and Jamaica – for which the grateful Jamaican House of Assembly this time voted to give Bligh a £1,000 reward. Banks was delighted and remained a stalwart friend and patron of Bligh, eventually playing a significant role in securing his 1805 appointment as second governor-general of New South Wales (see Chapter 7, part I). Yet for all the effort invested, money spent and lives lost, the breadfruit transfer was not the hoped-for success. The trees thrived and their descendants may still be seen growing all over the West Indies today, but the plantation slaves did not take to the fruit and would not eat it. However, a byproduct of the main transfer was more successful: as well as Breadfruit, ‘noble’ sugar was collected at Tahiti and transferred to Jamaica and from there to the other sugarproducing islands in the West Indies, where this particular strain was shown to be advantageous because its thicker, stronger canes were more resilient to wind damage.71 221

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS However, this was all in the future; when the Providence returned to London in 1793 Banks was doubly delighted. The two Kew gardeners tasked to care for the precious cargo – James Wiles and Christopher Smith – whom he had additionally instructed to collect plants opportunistically for Kew had gathered a collection of 1,283 healthy specimens from Timor, Tahiti, Saint Vincent and Jamaica. To date this was the largest single consignment of living plants to arrive at Kew, but the fact that only 147 new species from the consignment were listed in the second edition of Hortus Kewensis (1801–13) suggests a high post-arrival mortality rate. Of the gardeners, Wiles had remained in the West Indies, becoming superintendent at the Liguanea Botanic Garden at Jamaica, while Smith, afterward appointed botanist to the HEIC, sailed to Calcutta in 1794. With him aboard the Royal Admiral (one of the HEIC’s largest East Indiamen) went the Kew gardener Peter Good, who cared for an assorted consignment of fruit trees and crops sent for trial in India. In exchange Smith drew up a list of 375 plant specimens which, he noted, ‘I have potted with my own hands’;72 these were added to Roxburgh’s shipment, with which Good returned on the same ship in 1796. An overjoyed Banks gratefully wrote to Roxburgh on 29 May 1796: ‘Next to the Collection which Capt Bligh brought home [in the Providence] it is the largest addition Kew Gardens have ever received at one time.’73 KEW PUBLICATIONS . . . AND LACK OF THEM

Kew was undoubtedly a huge success, but it was also another example of Banks the author failing to follow through and disseminate collected knowledge. Excepting the two notable editions of Hortus Kewensis that appeared in his lifetime, the only other published outcome of the Kew collection was a periodical which in spite of a pledge made in the anonymous preface (albeit likely to have been by Banks) of an annual issue should it be favourable received, ran to a mere three between 1796 and 1803. Likely inspired by Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, which had been launched in February 1787, and published by W.T. Aiton, Delineations of Exotick Plants Cultivated in the Royal Garden at Kew should have presented to the world the choice flowers listed in Hortus Kewensis. In the event it showcased a mere thirty of Francis Masson’s Cape heaths (Erica spp.), ten per 222

THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW number, each beautifully illustrated by the young Austrian botanical artist, Franz Andreas Bauer (1758–1840), whom Banks had recruited in 1790. Bauer, in a letter of 19 August 1814 to the Austrian botanist Joseph von Jacquin, put the periodical’s failure down to over-ambition, financial loss-making and the death in 1800 of the principal engraver, Daniel MacKenzie. Bauer emerged to become one of the finest botanical artists of his generation and was bequeathed an annuity of £300 by Banks for as long as he remained at the Royal Botanic Gardens illustrating Kew’s plants. This he continued to do until his death in 1840; his exquisite paintings are now held at the Natural History Museum, London. Even though his own magnum opus was to remain unpublished, in the realm of publishing, as in so many facets of his working life after 1773, Banks was most effective as an enabler and facilitator, and additionally in this sphere as a financier and disseminator, of others’ work. Banks’s association with the Portuguese Jesuit João de Loureiro resulted in the publication in Lisbon under his editing of Flora Cochinchinensis (1790); a year later he published Engelbert Kaempfer’s Icones Selectae Plantarum, quas in Japonia (1791), illustrated with engravings by Daniel MacKenzie (the manuscript had lain in the British Museum since purchased by Sir Hans Sloane upon Kaempfer’s death in 1716); his long-term correspondence with Roxburgh (who sent back to Banks so many botanical drawings), saw the publication of Plants from the Coast of Coromandel in three volumes (1795–1819); and in 1796 Banks was behind the publication of Francis Masson’s Stapelia Nova. But let us finish this chapter with Banks’s greatest horticultural and botanical achievement. Banks the collector had met his aim of establishing Kew as the repository and custodian of Europe’s – and likely the world’s – premier live botanical collection. And, utilising Kew, Banks demonstrated how the practice of transferring between colonies those plant taxa that yielded commodities could make a substantial contribution to the empire’s plantations and nation’s finances. His ‘devotion to Kew was among the most signal benefits which [his] career gave to his country’,74 and certainly his farsightedness and determination had ramifications which are still felt today, just as the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew continues to stand as a testament to Banks.

223

SEVEN 

The Father of Australia

I ESTABLISHING THE PENAL SETTLEMENT Before we explore how Banks earned his sobriquet of ‘Father of Australia’, and leaving aside the considerable time and effort he was expending on developing the collection at Kew and on other projects related to the botanic garden, let us briefly examine some of the other projects and activities with which Banks was involved in the 1770s, and scrutinise his significant domestic transformation. He was, for example, busy with the preparation of his Endeavour voyage Florilegium, and carrying out the duties of a member of the Council of the Royal Society. He had been elected Fellow on 1 May 1766 while aboard the Niger en route for St John’s, Newfoundland and following his return from Iceland successfully stood for Council (together with Solander and Phipps) for the first time on 30 November 1773. He was re-elected the following year, and on 14 December 1774 made his first official visit to the Royal Observatory, Greenwich as a Royal Society visitor. A month later he offered himself up as a research subject for an experiment conducted by Dr George Fordyce into the effects of extreme heat on the human body. On the afternoon 23 January 1775, Banks, Phipps, Solander and Dr Charles Blagen, fully clothed, endured three stays in a room heated first to 160 °F, then to 200 °F, and finally to 210 °F – which Banks endured for seven minutes. However, that year he did not stand for election to the Council because of a row 224

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA a week before the ballot concerning Banks inviting ineligible guests to dine at the Club of the Royal Philosophers (later the Royal Society Club), a dining club that met before the Thursday evening Society meetings. In retaliation to what he saw as petty-mindedness, Banks and seven friends formed an alternative ‘rebel’ dining club. Meeting some twenty to thirty times a year until 1784, Banks was elected its ‘Perpetual Dictator’ in 1777, the same year he was re-elected to Council. THE PACIFIC ISLANDER MAI’S VISIT

Another draw on Banks’s time in 1775–6 was his unofficial guardianship of Mai (c. 1751–80), a young Raiatean whom he and Cook had met at Tahiti in 1769 and whom Cook encountered again on his second voyage, this time at Huahine in 1773. Returning to Britain with Furneaux in the Adventure in early July 1775, ‘Omai’ (as he was incorrectly called in Britain) was met at Portsmouth by Banks, who housed him initially at New Burlington Street and presented him to the king and queen at the White House, Kew on the 17th. The handsome and intelligent Mai was only the second Pacific Islander visitor to Europe, and the first to Britain, where he was feted, becoming quite the society celebrity. For example, he was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds.1 Those who met Mai quickly found him to be sophisticated and with a complex culture of his own, a discovery that went some way to dismantling some widely held misconceptions and stereotypes about Pacific Island peoples. Mai spent much time in the company of Banks, who kept a weather eye on his activities and welfare, ensuring, for example, that soon after his arrival he was inoculated against smallpox. Tellingly, however, Banks made no attempt to have him convert to the Christian faith and actively advocated his repatriation to Huahine. After a year-long visit Mai left with Cook in HMS Resolution in the last week of June 1776, returning to his island with gifts of livestock, plants and tools. From the government Banks reclaimed the costs of hosting him, which in the year to April 1776 amounted to £317 11s 11½d. And that July Banks began another task at the behest of Cook, checking the botanical descriptions for the official account of his second voyage prior to its publication. 225

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS BANKS’S DOMESTIC EVOLUTION

Beginning in 1777 Banks shook up his domestic situation as he settled down emotionally and physically. The impatient and sometimes overbearing peripatetic adventurer transformed into a dutiful, learned and influential savant. As part of this change he moved house to 32 Soho Square (Plate 23), a property with the attractions of a low price (the £4,000 paid for the seventy-eight-year leasehold was £3,000 less than the asking price) and a convenient location for the City, Whitehall, the Royal Society and the British Museum; and if Soho was an unfashionable part of the city, then his neighbours were for the most part respectable landowners of his class, but unlike him, members of Parliament. Now much modified, No. 32 was a large L-shaped house on four floors in the southwest corner of the square with a deceptively narrow frontage of 18 feet, the building extending 33 feet southwards against the side of No. 31 on the south side. An additional attraction was the property’s ‘extensive back premises’ – a library and schoolrooms – overlooking Dean Street. These were altered to house Banks’s library, herbarium, zoological collections and the engravers’ room.2 Banks was in residence by August 1777 but the alterations and the arranging of his collections and library were to occupy many months to come.3 A new face at work in these rooms was to be the sober, hard-working Swedish botanist Jonas Carlsson Dryander (1748–1810), whom Banks first met on 18 August 1777 at Kew and who came into his employ early in 1778. Over the next thirty-two years Dryander became an increasingly important fixture, especially following Solander’s death in 1782, when he succeeded him as curator of Banks’s collections. With its unrivalled collection of natural history texts (to this day the library remains a separate unit of the British Library, London), its herbarium one of the most comprehensive in Europe and its expert staff, Banks’s outfit was to all intents and purposes a private Academy of Natural History, well-organised and well-funded, that became the centre of his ceaseless scientific activities. And it was an academy whose director threw open its doors and actively welcomed in devotees of science, irrespective of nationality. The long list of those who crossed the threshold to enjoy Banks’s gregarious hospitality and to avail themselves of his resources is a catalogue of the great and good 226

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA natural historians of the age, and included Pierre Broussonet, Petrus Camper, Baron Cuvier, Erasmus Darwin, Johan Christian Fabricius, C.L. de Brutelle L’Heritier, Antoine Laurent de Jussieu, Carl Linneus the younger, Carl Thunberg and Alexander von Humbolt, to name but ten. A HAPPILY MARRIED MAN AND A SECOND COUNTRY RESIDENCE

Perhaps in part because he was standing as a candidate for election as president of the Royal Society (see Chapter 8, part I), in October 1778 Banks took steps to put his informal relationships with women behind him and become respectable. An introduction to Dorothea Hugessen (1758–1828), daughter and co-heir of the late William Weston Hugessen of Provender, Kent (made by her guardian Francis Filmer, a relation of Banks’s aunt Bridget Banks-Hodgkinson), soon developed into a relationship and then betrothal (Plate 22). Solander described the young lady as ‘rather handsome, very agreeable, chatty & laughs a good deal’,4 and at some point early in their courtship Banks broke with Sarah Wells, his mistress and hostess of two years. Again in Solander’s words (from a letter to John Lloyd of 5 June 1779): ‘Banks and Mrs. Wells parted on very good terms – she has the sense enough to find that he acted right, and of course She behaved very well. All her old friends visit her as formerly.’5 On 23 March 1779 at Saint Andrew’s Church, Holborn, the thirty-six-year-old scientist-squire wed the twenty-year-old Dorothea (whose fortune stood at £14,000). The bachelor who had kept a mistress in Chapel Street now became the respectable husband, whose life revolved around 32 Soho Square, Revesby Abbey and his new property of Spring Grove. This, the honeymoon destination for Dorothea and Joseph, was a second and smaller country estate of 49 acres located west of London at Isleworth near Smallbury Green, in the county of Middlesex. Solander recorded that Banks initially leased it from Elisha Biscoe for four years; after extending the lease he eventually purchased the property for £6,000 in 1804. The choice of Spring Grove was driven by Banks’s wish for a country retreat within easy reach of London – it was 10 miles from Soho Square, and its close proximity to Kew – a bare 3 miles away. An added incentive was Heston House only 2.5 miles distant, which his uncle Robert Banks-Hodgkinson had purchased in 1775. Spring Grove 227

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS was however another draw on his purse, costing him about £400 a year until 1791 for rent, taxes and tithes, and £500 for upkeep and operation. Here the couple passed three happy months until August. However, before they set out from Soho Square and less than a week after their wedding, Benjamin Stephenson, the steward of Revesby Abbey, who had learned of the happy nuptials only from the newspaper, wrote with brief congratulations and a much longer and detailed room-by-room description of the dilapidation into which the house had fallen. Summoned to London to meet his new mistress, Stephenson returned with orders for a major refurbishment – yet another draw on Banks’s finances. From the end of September until early November that year, Mr and Mrs Banks (accompanied on this occasion by Mary Hugessen, Dorothea’s younger sister) made their first autumn visit to Revesby, setting a pattern that would see the household migrate to Lincolnshire between August and October every year until 1817. Yet for all the money spent, it appears it made little difference to the comforts of the mostly unused manor: in 1791 the contemporary diarist and traveller John Byng condemned Revesby Abbey as mean, uncomfortable and dismal.6 DOMESTIC LIFE

Central to Banks’s domestic happiness were what he called ‘his ladies’. During that first year of marriage Dorothea’s sister Mary shared their domesticity, until she wed Edward Knatchbull of Mersham Hatch on 27 July 1780. That autumn her place in the household was taken by Banks’s sister, Sarah Sophia, and it soon became known that all invites delivered to 32 Soho Square were to be addressed to Mr, Mrs and Miss Banks. With no issue from the marriage the trio lived happily together for three decades until Sarah’s death in 1818. Both women were intelligent, interested and interesting, and in true Banksian style ardent collectors; Dorothea of rare and unusual Chinese porcelain (displayed in the dairy at Spring Grove, where she also had a passion for the dairy herd), and Sarah of engravings, tickets, newspaper cuttings, visiting and invitation cards and prints (her collection is held in the British Museum, London). She was additionally well known for dressing somewhat unfashionably and eccentrically. 228

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA She may have been the subject of James Gillray’s satirical cartoon ‘An Old Maid on a Journey’ (1804), and the Keeper of the Prints in the British Museum, writing in the year of her death (1818) recalled the peculiar figure she presented: Her dress was of the old school. Her Barcelona quilted petticoat had a hole on either side for the convenience of rummaging two immense pockets stuffed with books of all sorts. The petticoat was covered with a deep stumachered gown . . . In this dress I have frequently seen her walk, followed by a six-foot servant with a cane, almost as tall as himself . . . Notwithstanding the very singular appearance of Miss Banks she was, in the prime of life, a fashionable whip and drove four-in-hand.7

Banks too had eccentric habits, recording the weight of his visitors and himself in a large, brown leather-bound ledger. Thus we know that in 1781 he weighed 15 stone and over the coming twenty-five years put on 17 pounds.8 In an era when etiquette, entertaining and calling upon one’s peers was seen as an important part of the cultural glue of upper class society, when both host and guest were judged on the quality of their table, their manners and their establishment, the Bankses were a somewhat unconventional household. Banks in particular was something of a class iconoclast. Standing 6 feet tall, he was, until gout crippled him, an imposing figure; he was good company too. An affable and engaging conversationalist with a booming voice, who took pleasure in being the centre of attention, he enjoyed the conviviality of like-minded friends and associates irrespective of social class, and entertained on his own terms. Guests were invited because they were interesting, not because of their rank. Or, as Banks described his particular form of bonhomie to his personal physician Sir Everard Home on 15 September 1811: ‘My wish in Life has been to enjoy the utmost Familiarity with those whom I can trust. I rejoice therefore in every opportunity of letting the public know that I am not of an aristocratic disposition.’9 No doubt his behaviour raised eyebrows within certain genteel parlours and dining rooms of London society, but Banks it appears simply did not care; and within his personal coterie it was, for example, an honour to be invited to the 229

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS convivial Thursday-morning philosophical breakfasts, at which the congenial Banks was an engaging host who enjoyed discussion and debate, and one suspects, playing the role of grandee savant. Many were the notable individuals who visited, in particular scientists from diverse disciplines and from across Europe. Among these in 1790 was a twenty-one-year-old Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859) who was travelling in Europe with Georg Forster (he who had sailed as naturalist with Cook on his second circumnavigation instead of Banks – see above, p. 157). Banks showed the young would-be scientist-explorer around his great herbarium and there developed a friendship which would last for thirty years, during which time the two exchanged botanical specimens for study and Banks deployed his scientific contacts to aid Humboldt in his work. The breakfasts were an open forum where anything and everything was discussed, from the latest botanical discoveries to ostentatious but intricate artisanship. For example, of one such occasion Horace Walpole attended in March 1791 (a ‘literary saturnalia’ as he called it) he related to the Misses Berrys of Berkley Square that a Parisian watchmaker had ‘produced the smallest automaton that I suppose was ever created [a singing bird springing out of a snuff box] . . . That economist, the Prince of Wales, could not resist it, and has bought one.’10 However, certain guests must have fawned a little too obsequiously before their affable host: in 1804 Charles Bell, later resident at 34 Soho Square, witheringly reported that he had discovered Banks one Thursday morning breakfasting with ‘a set of most absurd animals about him – living animals – German and French toadeaters’.11 Interestingly, the perceptive diarist Fanny Burney experienced a different Banks at a tea party in March 1788. She wrote in her diary that he ‘was so exceedingly shy that we made no acquaintance at all. If instead of going round the world he had fallen from the moon he could not appear less versed in the usual modes of a tea-drinking party. 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?’12 It seems strange that the Banks we have seen enjoying female company at home and abroad, who conversed easily with Queen Charlotte, should be called shy. But perhaps it was more the occasion that made him uncomfortable; perhaps 230

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA he did not display the expected etiquette, or did not enjoy small talk for small talk’s sake in general; or, perhaps, he was just plain bored. Yet hers is not the only negative appraisal of his gentility. Byng, who was so rude about the lack of comfort at Revesby in 1791, was equally acerbic about the forty-eight-year-old Banks’s character: ‘When a man sets himself up for a wild eccentric character and (having a great estate with the comforts of England at command) can voyage to Otaheite and can reside in a corner house in Soho-Square, of course his country seat will be a filthy and neglected spot.’13 Fifteen years later the diarist Joseph Farington recorded that ‘his manners are rather coarse and heavy’, and in 1816 (by which time Banks was an old man and in constant pain from gout) he was described by Lord Glenbervie as ‘awkward in his person [and] one of the many instances to prove that personal graces are far from essential to politeness’.14 THE BUNBURY COMMITTEE

Returning to the matter of Banks’s significance in the settlement and subsequent colonisation of Australia, much has been written debating the reasons why Botany Bay on the east coast of far distant New South Wales was officially selected by the British government as the location for a new penal colony in August 1786. Traditional wisdom holds that the decision was taken solely because British prisons were already chronically overcrowded, that the inmate population was rising rapidly and following the outbreak of the American Revolutionary War in 1775 a new destination for transportation was required. There is truth in this, but it is an oversimplification: the timeline reveals that the process was an evolutionary one. For example, for a period of time after the hostilities commenced the government believed that the American colonies, which since the early seventeenth century had been a destination for transportation, would once again take convicts. In the meantime the use of ‘prison hulks’ was authorised in 1776 as an interim measure to ease overcrowding. These dismantled naval vessels were moored in various rivers and harbours and filled with criminals of both sexes, who endured the most dreadful, insanitary conditions. Three years later, when it was clear that the American option was off the table for good, a House of Commons Select Committee on Convicts was set up under Sir Charles 231

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Bunbury (1740–1821) to examine the problem of prison overcrowding. With the nation’s finances parlous and the economy at a low ebb, all possible alternatives to reduce the high costs of incarceration were to be considered, including ‘to establish a Colony of convicted Felons in any distant part of the Globe, from whence their Escape might be difficult, and where, from the Fertility of the Soil, they might be enabled to maintain themselves, after the First Year, with little or no aid from the Mother Country’.15 In March 1779, and likely just before his wedding, Banks gave expert opinion to the Bunbury Committee. The submission in which he advanced Botany Bay as a suitable location for a new penal colony survives in a condensed form of 500 words or so as Bunbury reported it on 10 April. Banks laid it on a bit thick, eulogising New South Wales as a new Eden just waiting to support new settlers: ‘thinly peopled’ by ‘extremely cowardly’ people and with a climate ‘similar to that of Toulouse’; there were ‘no Beasts of Prey’ but ‘much fish was easily to be had’, and as for the land itself, it was ‘well supplied with Water’, an abundance of ‘Timber and Fuel, sufficient for any Number of Buildings, which might be found necessary’ and ‘some eatable Vegetables, particularly a Sort of Wild Spinage’. Moreover, the ‘Proportion of rich soil’ was ‘sufficient to support a very large Number of People’, while the grass for grazing ‘was long and luxuriant’: ‘Oxen or Sheep, if carried there, would thrive and increase.’16 However, this idyll is somewhat at odds with descriptions penned nine years earlier when Banks, Cook and Parkinson had explored Botany Bay and as far as about 5 miles inland (see above, p. 115). Parkinson had then stated: ‘The country is very level and fertile; the soil, a kind of grey sand; and the climate mild: and though it was the beginning of winter when we arrived, every thing seemed in perfection.’17 Banks had written in his Endeavour journal for 4 May 1771 of the northwest side of the bay where he ‘went a good way into the countrey which in this place is very sandy and resembles something our Moors in England, as no trees grow upon it but every thing is coverd with a thin brush of plants about as high as the knees. The hills are low and rise one above another a long way into the countrey by a very gradual ascent, appearing in every respect like those we were upon’. 232

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA Cook meanwhile, writing in his journal entry for 3 May 1771 of the head of the bay and some way into the interior, had stated that ‘the land much richer for instead of sand I found in many places a deep black soil, which we thought was Capable of producing any kind of grain. At present it produceth, besides Timber, as fine Meadow as ever was seen; however, we found it not all like this, some few places were very rocky, but this, I believe, to be uncommon.’ Not quite then the pastoral idyll Banks promised the committee, although he did add in his submission the proviso that any expedition sent to settle must go equipped with a full year’s supply of victuals, clothing and drink as well as all the tools, seeds, stock, etc. necessary to establish a self-sufficient community.18 Banks might then have been overstating his case somewhat, but from the outset he envisaged much more for the settlement than just a dumping ground for convicts who in all likelihood would never return to Britain. His vision was the forging of a self-sustaining colony that by means of plant transfers combined with agricultural improvement and the discovery of useful native taxa would – as quickly as possible – become useful and productive, a net contributor to the British economy. When asked whether he ‘conceived [that] the Mother Country was likely to reap any Benefit from a Colony established at Botany Bay’, Banks’s reply was telling: ‘If the People formed among themselves a Civil Government, they would necessarily increase, and find Occasion for many European Commodities; and it was not to be doubted that a Tract of Land such as New Holland, which was larger than the whole of Europe, would furnish Matter of advantageous Return.’19 THE BEAUCHAMP COMMITTEE

Although it would require a seven year gestation period between Banks’s submission to the Bunbury Committee and the colony’s genesis, nothing more than Banks’s testimony was required to set in motion the establishment of a British penal colony at New South Wales. Thus it can rightly be claimed that Banks played a profound and determining role in the colonisation of what was to become Australia. Or as one of his proteges, the plant hunter and pioneer of Australian horticulture George Suttor (1774–1859), robustly stated, ‘The 233

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS establishment of our Colony of Botany Bay originated entirely with Sir Joseph Banks’. This ‘cheerful and buoyant’ man was especially concerned with the welfare of the ‘infant Colony . . . of which I have in London heard him called the father’; and more than this, ‘No individual connected with the home government took or paid more attention to the welfare of these Colonies than Sir Joseph Banks, amidst the struggle and tempests of war in Europe’.20 In the interim, from the Bunbury Committee came the stop-gap Penitentiary Act of 1779 that merely kicked the prison-overcrowding can down the road by legislating the construction of two more prisons, the continued use of hulks (until 1 June 1784) and an examination of all possible destinations for transportation. Four years later, another champion of a New South Wales colony presented to the Home Office a scheme very similar to Banks’s. Indeed its author James Mario Matra was an erstwhile shipmate of Banks in the Endeavour (see above, p. 145; more recently he had served as secretary to the embassy in Constantinople, 1778–80). That July of 1783 he had petitioned Banks to support his ‘Proposal for Establishing a Settlement in New South Wales’. Dated 23 August it is not much more than a reiteration (perhaps a plagiarism) of Banks’s proposal, complete with assurances from Matra that Banks had a ‘high approbation of the scheme’ that he ‘highly approves of the settlement’ and was ‘very ready to give his opinion of it, either to his Majesty’s Ministry or others, whenever they may please to require it’.21 By 1784 political pressure had risen to the point where something concrete needed to be done in order to reduce both the number of inmates and the associated financial burden on the Treasury. The various destinations considered for transportation, including the Gambia, Senegal, Das Voltas Bay, and the Cape in Africa, Belize, Gibraltar, Jamaica, Madagascar, Newfoundland and Nova Scotia, and Tristan da Cunha had all been deemed unsuitable: either because the local populations not unreasonably refused to take criminals, or because the destinations themselves were rejected. Some, for example, were judged unhealthy and inhumane – according to Matra, of the 746 convicts sent to Africa in 1775– 76, nearly half (334) had died, 271 deserted ‘to no one knows where’, and of the remaining 141 ‘no account could be given’.22 Matra’s amended ‘Proposal’23 was 234

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA received at the Home Office on 2 April 1784, and a year later another Select Committee of Enquiry was established, this time into transportation and under the chairmanship of Lord Beauchamp. A contemporary of Banks at Eton and Christ Church, it was Beauchamp who had introduced Banks to the king following his return with Cook in 1771 (see above, p. 140). The Committee heard first from Sir Evan Nepean (1752–1822), under-secretary of state for the Home Department, on 27 April, before Matra gave evidence extolling the virtues of Botany Bay, likely on 6 May and certainly on the 9th and again on the 23rd. The most influential expert was of course Banks himself, who was similarly upbeat in his submission of 10 May. Noting that Botany Bay was the only place on the eastern coast of New South Wales between 30° and 40° South that he had actually visited, he was nonetheless ‘confidant that it is in every respect adapted to that purpose’, namely to ‘support a considerable number of Europeans in the same modes as in England’. And when asked ‘Do you know of any place you think preferable to this for the purpose of sending Convicts to it?’, he concluded his evidence with this statement: ‘From the fertility of the Soil the timid Disposition of the Inhabitants and the Climate being so analogous to that of Europe I give this place the preference to all that I have seen.’24 Nepean placed the proposal for New South Wales on the Cabinet’s agenda in December 1785, and throughout the first half of 1786, as Banks’s good friend Charles Blagden reported to Lord Mulgrave on 9 December 1786, Banks was regularly consulted on the matter of Botany Bay. At the same time, Nepean undertook some creative accounting which resulted in his calculating the cost of one-way transportation and the first three years of settlement at £32 a year per male prisoner, a mere £4 more than incarceration in a hulk, after which they would incur no further expense. The paper, ‘Heads of the Plan for Botany Bay’, that was to secure Cabinet approval was drawn up and although not signed by Banks it must have been at least drafted by him; his views about the overlapping spheres of useful science, colonisation and improvement are clear in the very first line: ‘Heads of a plan for effectually disposing of convicts and rendering their transportation reciprocally beneficial, both to themselves and to the State, by the establishment of a colony in New South Wales.’25 235

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS There followed yet another positive assessment of the land’s appropriateness while the practical recommendations smack of Banks’s detailed instructions to voyages of discovery. Towards the document’s end the extra inducements and advantages of Botany Bay are underscored. That is to say, for the Navy’s benefit hemp and New Zealand flax might be cultivated and a cordage industry established (the detailed description is pure Banks); that New Zealand (which, it was noted, was closer to New South Wales than America was to Britain) might yield up ‘any quantity of masts and ship timber for the use of our fleets in India’; and that the new colony might cultivate ‘Most of the Asiatic products’, meaning those economically significant ones. These are not named, but a somewhat over-enthusiastic Matra had suggested spices, sugarcane, tea, coffee, silk, cotton, indigo, tobacco ‘and the other articles of commerce that have been so advantageous to the maritime powers of Europe’.26 Moreover, displaying a Banksian belief in the strategic importance of national self-sufficiency, the ‘Heads’ document asserted an optimistic (but as it turned out incorrect) forecast that within a few years the plantations in New South Wales ‘may render our recourse to our European neighbours for these productions unnecessary’. HIDDEN AGENDAS AND THE FIRST FLEET

The prime minister, William Pitt the Younger, and his ministers decided on Botany Bay on or about 19 August 1786;27 it would be fair to say that a decisive factor was because there was nowhere else to transport felons. Yet in making this choice Pitt took on board the extra inducements set out in the ‘Heads’ document: a desire to strengthen trade with Asia, naval advancement and the strategic provision of maritime supplies (hemp, flax and timber). Certainly the ‘First Fleet’ (the eleven ships sent to found the penal colony that became the first European settlement in Australia) sailed with the equipment necessary to process flax, as well as Roger Murley (or Morley), a master weaver and free settler, and Lieutenant William Dawes, a man considered competent to attend to ‘the flax from New Zealand, or any other important article of commerce which that country may produce’.28 But interestingly too, what Pitt adopted was a new governance paradigm, for in spite 236

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA of the distance involved it was central government in London that was to be dominant in the decision-making and running of the settlement and colony; something that had not happened in America. It would seem likely that Pitt was acting on a broader geopolitical agenda than simply solving the prison overcrowding problem; that with the decision for Botany Bay he was addressing wider British interests and concerns. For, having fought and lost its American colonies in a war that saw France, Holland and Spain align themselves with its enemy, Pitt and the government now perceived in the Botany Bay project strategic implications and opportunities. And simultaneously the need to secure all of New Holland against territorial claims by other powers (it will be recalled that only four years later Britain nearly went to war with Spain over another potential colony at Nootka Sound – see above, p. 199). By so doing this act of colonisation would thwart any commercial motives and aspirations these nation-powers held while creating for Britain a significant strategic base on the Pacific Rim; and, long term, a commercially productive colony with a geographical location that could be beneficial to Britain’s global trading. Certainly, by late 1786 Pitt was playing a central role in the decision-making and planning, and with the Admiralty spurred into action the First Fleet under the command of Arthur Phillip (1738–1814) was ready for sea the following May. Phillip had been appointed the first governor of New South Wales on 12 October 1786, and throughout the hurried preparations proved resourceful and insightful in dealing with the multitudinous problems involved in both transporting criminals half-way around the world, and with the challenges to be faced establishing a successful settlement when they reached the little-known land. Nonetheless the fitting-out was over-hasty and the Navy Board and its contractors cut costs and corners – after all, as they saw it, it was only convicts being shipped. The ships were ill-provisioned and provided for: for example, no extra clothes were shipped for women prisoners about to endure a 252-day voyage in excess of 15,000 miles. A lot of what was supplied was substandard: most of the seed grain for example was spoiled. And then there were the oversights: for example, not until after sailing was it discovered that the Marines 237

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS had no small-arms ammunition. (Luckily, Phillip was able to purchase 10,000 musket balls in Rio de Janeiro.) The First Fleet comprised two Royal Navy ships, three store ships and six convict transports, and departed Spithead on 13 May 1787 carrying seamen, marines and their families, government administrators, and of course the convicts: 586 men and 242 women. No complete muster survives to give exact numbers and names but it is estimated that approximately 1,530 souls embarked at Portsmouth and 1,483 landed at New South Wales (Plate 29).29 On the 18 January 1788 the Supply, scouting ahead of the fleet, entered Botany Bay, anchoring on its north side in order that the following ships would not miss the entrance. Phillip surveyed the foreshores looking for a source of fresh water, going as far as 6 miles up the Cooks River, the country of which he found lowand boggy but with no source of fresh water. By the 20th all eleven ships were anchored in the bay, and Phillip decided to explore through an inlet a few miles north – one that Cook had noted but not entered – in order to seek a better site for the settlement. Between the two headlands was, as Phillip reported to the home secretary Lord Sydney in a letter dated 15 May 1778, ‘the finest harbour in the world, in which a thousand sail of the line may ride in the most perfect security’.30 This was the beautiful harbour of Port Jackson, into which the rest of the fleet sailed on 26 January. The site selected for the settlement was sheltered, watered by a small stream and enjoyed a deep-water anchorage close to the shore (Plate 30). Phillip named it Sydney Cove for his lordship. The pioneers who were to found Britain’s first settlement in the Antipodes were equipped with a miscellany of stores, including tools, agricultural implements, seeds, livestock, spirits, medical supplies, small arms, handcuffs and leg irons, and a prefabricated wooden frame-house for the colony’s first Government House. At Rio de Janeiro Phillip had collected specimens of the plants that Banks had recommended as being useful to the new colony: cacao, various species of citrus, coffee, cotton, indigo, jalap, tobacco, vines;31 and at Cape Town he had loaded domestic animals. Many however had died in transit or soon after arrival, or were stolen. In May an official tally was made32 and it was on these survivors and the carried goods and provisions that the new settlers 238

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA were expected to rely until good use could be made of local resources (assuming they existed) and the settlement could subsist on its home-grown produce and raised livestock. All of this was to prove problematic. Phillip contended with rebellious convicts and troops, and in spite of his conciliatory policy toward the Australian Aboriginals, he failed to establish peace between the settlers and the indigenous population. However, his biggest challenge was the threat of famine, and the new arrivals struggled for survival during the first four years. BANKS THE CHAMPION OF BOTANY BAY

With so many dramatic events dominating the European theatre and occupying the government’s attention and coffers – not least from 1789 the French Revolution and after 1793 war with France – the new colony was generally given a low priority by ministers. But as the prime instigator of the settlement Banks was not going to sit back and allow ‘his’ new colony to fail. To fill the administrative vacuum and to secure much-needed support, Banks appointed himself the colony’s champion, and by means of regular, detailed correspondence with Governor Phillip and his four successors was well informed about the privations and challenges faced by the fledgling colony, in particular the problem of feeding the settlers and convicts. In essence Banks became generally recognised by the government as the unofficial ‘head of Australian affairs’, but was always careful to stay one step removed from party politics; as he wisely observed in February 1789, ‘I could not take office and do my duty to the colony. My successor would naturally oppose my wishes. I prefer, therefore, to be friendly with both sides.’33 However, in his nurturing of the new colony he was ably assisted by allies within various departments of government: Nepean until his departure in 1791, Lord Hawkesbury at the Board of Trade, his old friend Lord Mulgrave at the Board of Control, and to a lesser extent Henry Dundas, home secretary between 1791 and 1794 (after which he became war secretary). However, from 1794 Banks’s ability to advance the colony was somewhat suppressed until his appointment as Privy Councillor in 1797 (see below, p. 292). As he wrote to Governor King at Norfolk Island on 30 March 1797, government ministers, who had been fully occupied ‘carrying on a calamitous war, have to much neglected the Interests of 239

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS your Establishment, my favorite Colony’, but he hoped now that he could ‘be of some service to you or your establishment’.34 Making good his promise the next year Banks prepared ‘A List of Fruit Trees &c for Botany Bay’ and a ‘Scheme of Plants for Botany Bay’35 and set about persuading the government to assist. Help was sent in the form of £70,000’s worth of stores consisting of seeds (some supplied by Hugh Ronalds, a Brentford nurseryman), plants from Kew, farm machinery and livestock. A telling line from a letter to Nepean of 7 July 1789 referring to ‘Conversations held with yourself & other Gentlemen in various departments of Government’36 underlines Banks’s ability to manoeuvre and coordinate between various branches of the legislature without accusations of partisanship. The aid was dispatched in the appropriately named – but, as it turned out, ill-fated – HMS Guardian, which left Spithead on 8 September that year. On the deck stood the aforementioned prototype plant cabin measuring 16 by 12 by 5 feet and with capacity for ninety-three pots. With sliding shutters for ventilation, a canvas cover for shade, the structure could be glazed during cold weather when the stove could additionally be lit. On this voyage its inhabitants were precious fruit trees cared for by two Kew-trained gardeners, George Austin and James Smith. But when the ship hit an iceberg the structure and its contents (which could weigh 3 tons) was unceremoniously jettisoned overboard. Tragically the ship was subsequently lost with all supplies and most hands, including Austin and Smith (the latter of whom was, according to Commander Edward Riou, ‘a Lazy Dog’ who suffered with ‘rheumatic gout’).37 Two years later Banks tried again and this time was more successful. The Gorgon sailed as part of the Third Fleet on 15 March 1791, and was similarly fitted with a plant cabin that brought 200 fruit trees safely to Sydney Cove. Further horticultural consignments were dispatched in HMS Reliance in 1795 and HMS Porpoise in 1798. PLANT HUNTERS TO NEW SOUTH WALES

In 1797 Banks had held discussions about the ongoing needs of the colony with his long-term correspondent (and donor to Kew), Colonel William Paterson (1755–1810) of the New South Wales Corps, back in Britain on leave. Paterson 240

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA was a keen botanist who had plant-hunted at the Cape Colony at South Africa for the eccentric countess of Strathmore between 1777 and 1780, the account of which he dedicated to Banks.38 And when in command at Norfolk Island between November 1791 and March 1793 he had collected specimens for Banks; Kew benefitted to the tune of twenty papers of seeds which arrived on 18 June 1793. On that day Kew also received eighty packets of seed from Port Jackson, a gift from the recently retired Governor Phillip, who had landed in England eleven days earlier and who brought with him an additional eighty-two boxes and tubs of live Australian plants. Over the coming years Paterson, a keen explorer, led several expeditions into the interior of New South Wales and was a pioneering explorer of Tasmania. Rising to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and serving two terms as lieutenant governor of New South Wales (1794–95 and 1800–8) he was, too, to prove a successful soldier and administrator. However he was also, reprehensibly, responsible for a massacre of Australian Aboriginals. Armed with information from Paterson, Banks lobbied for and received authorisation from the Treasury ‘to provide such Fruit Trees, usefull Plants and Seeds’ as he deemed ‘to be wanting in his Majesties Colony of New South Wales’.39 Notably absent from the directive, however, was clarity on the source of funding (in the event Banks personally paid somewhere in the region of £100 for the plants and seed), and how the plants were to be cared for in transit. Here Banks had a stroke of good fortune. In May of 1795 he was introduced to the gardener George Suttor from Chelsea, who wished to make a new life in the colony as a free settler. Banks employed him in August at 15 shillings a week to gather together the consignment of plants and seed from Kew and nurseries (in particular from the nurseryman Hugh Ronalds). The live component comprised eighteen boxes of plants filled according to the plant groups defined by Banks: culinary, plants, vines for viticulture; grapes for eating, edible fruits, grapes and fruits for drying, mulberries for silkworms, cider apples, brewing hops, hedging plants, garden plants, plants for cattle fodder and timber trees. A few exotic taxa were included as gifts from Kew: the carob tree (Ceratonia siliqua) from the Mediterranean region, from Abyssinina and introduced by James Bruce, the antidysenteric ‘wooginoos’ (Brucea antidysenterica), and from North Africa, 241

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Dr Roxburgh’s ‘spring grass’ (possibly Bermuda grass, Cynodon dactylon) as cattle fodder, an acid fruit of the East Indies (Averrhoa spp.), and two tea plants.40 Banks secured Suttor’s agreement to care for the live cargo on the condition he receive the usual benefits due a free settler, including free passage for him, his wife and young son George, and the opportunity upon arrival to establish himself as a market gardener. Banks must have taken to Suttor, for he generously gave the family a personal gift of £30 to help them in their new life. On 22 October 1798 the collection of plants and seed was transferred downriver from Kew to the Porpoise anchored at Long Reach, and the potted plants installed inside a plant cabin 12 by 6 feet built on the quarterdeck. However, when the Porpoise left Deptford for Portsmouth it became immediately apparent that she was ‘crank’ (likely to be overset by a breeze even with minimal sail). She returned to port and almost ten long months of delays followed while remedial repairs were made – all with the plants still aboard. Eventually, on 6 September 1799, she again lifted anchor for the Southern Hemisphere. But once more she was abruptly forced to return to port after sustaining substantial rudder damage in the Bay of Biscay. A survey condemned her as unseaworthy and a captured Spanish packet ship, the Infanta Amelia, was refitted, renamed HMS Porpoise and the plant cabin transferred aboard. Throughout this extended ordeal Suttor had been doing his best to keep the floral cargo alive, but his job really only began once he and his family finally set sail for their new homeland at the third attempt on 17 May 1800, arriving there just shy of six months later on 7 November. A key component of Banks’s plan to develop New South Wales into a useful, contributing colony was the discovery and exploitation of new and economicallyvaluable native taxa, augmented by commodity taxa transferred from Kew. But just as he faced challenges in ensuring live specimens reached Sydney Cove, so too was he disappointed that during the colony’s first decade so little flora of commercial value had been found. And so he decided to dispatch plant hunters to search for it. The first of these was the rugged Yorkshireman George Caley (1770–1829). Full of optimism, Banks had written to John King, under-secretary of state at the Home Office on 13 December 1798, confidently predicting that Caley would discover ‘an ample field for his research, & where it is probable 242

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA there are many objects both in the vegetable & mineral kingdoms hitherto undiscovered, that will, when brought forward, become objects of national importance, & lay the foundation of a trade beneficial to the mother country with that hitherto unproductive colony’.41 Caley had been scheduled to sail with Suttor, but when the Porpoise was condemned he transferred to the whaler Speedy which left Britain on 12 November 1799. The son of a horse-dealer, and self-taught in botany, he disembarked at Sydney on 15 April 1800 at the start of a decade-long sojourn. His was an interesting employment, for while Banks had recommended him to the Home Office as a suitable addition to the free population of the colony, his rudimentary and self-taught botanical education (honed by spells as an apprentice at the Chelsea Physic Garden and at Kew) precluded Banks from recommending him as a Kew plant hunter. Thus, while the government found the cost of his passage, Banks personally met his weekly wages of 15 shillings (and later a pension of £50 a year) and thus Caley was technically collecting privately for Banks and not Kew. He was at times undisciplined and argumentative, but was always loyal and honest, and Banks very patient with him, though he did write to Governor King ‘I feel a particular obligation to you for bearing with the effusions of his illjudging spirit. Had he been born a gentleman he would long ago have been shot in a duel.’42 Caley established a small botanic garden near his cottage at Parramatta and made a number of collecting expeditions around Sydney. In 1801, and at Governor King’s suggestion, he accompanied Lieutenant Grant in the Lady Nelson on an expeditionary voyage to Jervis Bay and Westernport Strait, and the next year twice explored the foothills of the Blue Mountains. He and William Paterson penetrated deeper into the mountains along the Grose Valley, and in November 1804, this time alone, he attempted to cross the Blue Mountains, reaching as far as Mount Banks (which he named). In October 1805 Norfolk Island and Tasmania were explored and further excursions were made in 1806 and 1807. In spite of a perennial shortage of paper in the colony Caley was a dutiful correspondent, returning to Banks reports of his expeditions together with his plant collections (according to Suttor he was also an accomplished ornithologist: his collection of native birds eventually ended up with Banks 243

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS too43). In addition he sent dispatches describing life at the colony. For example, some time around March 1804 he penned the ten-page ‘A Short Account relative to the proceedings in New South Wales from the year 1800 to 1803, with hints and critical remarks’.44 Such down-to-earth analysis when set alongside letters and communications from more illustrious correspondents enabled Banks to paint for himself a broad yet detailed picture of the colony’s health and needs. The Suttor family finally reached Sydney Cove seven months after Caley but the endless delays and the voyage itself had taken their toll on the plants: all that arrived alive was one olive; two each of oak, plantain, Spanish chestnuts and walnut; four pomegranate and willows; six apples, black mulberries and white mulberries; eighteen Chilean strawberries; and of the vines, muscat of Alexandria and white muscadine for eating, black frontiniac, constantia, tokay, and white frontiniac for wine making.45 Nonetheless, for his diligence under such trying conditions Suttor was, at Banks’s recommendation, awarded a reward of 5 guineas by the Treasury. The family settled at Parramatta while George selected his grant: 186 acres at Baulkham Hills in the parish of Castle Hill which he received in March 1802 and named Suttor Farm (later Chelsea Farm). Here he grew the plants he had arrived with and received horticultural guidance with his market garden from Caley. Nonetheless the family initially struggled, but eventually had some success with oranges, the trees given to him by William Paterson. THE RUM REBELLION

On 12 May 1810 both Caley and Suttor set sail for Britain in HMS Hindostan and following six years at home Caley left again to become curator of the botanic garden at Saint Vincent, a post he held until December 1822. The reason for Suttor’s (temporary) return was different: he journeyed in order to give evidence in support of William Bligh, another of the ship’s passengers. Bligh had been appointed New South Wales’s fourth governor on Banks’s recommendation, holding office between 13 August 1806 and 26 January 1808 when he was deposed. Now he was sailing back to Britain to face his second court martial over a mutiny while in command (for Bligh’s first court martial see above, p. 221). The cause 244

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA this time was the Rum Rebellion of 1808. Bligh had quickly become an unpopular governor because of his implementation of the thankless task appointed him by the Colonial Office: that of breaking the power of the New South Wales Corps (the military force whose role included the control of convicts), which had turned the economy into one based on rum, a commodity it controlled. A difficult situation was made worse by the clumsy way in which Bligh handled the execution of his duty, and was exacerbated further by his dealing with the quarrelsome but powerful John Macarthur (1767–1834) – then a lieutenant in the New South Wales Corps with substantial farming and commercial interests, and later pioneer of the Australian wool industry, (see below, p. 255). It was his arrest by Bligh for refusing to appear at court over the matter of his part-owned schooner Parramatta, on which a convict had stowed away and escaped to Tahiti, that proved to be the spark that ignited the rebellion (later officially designated a mutiny). Bligh was arrested by the commander of the Corps, Lieutenant-Colonel George Johnston, and in the aftermath many of the free settlers – including Suttor – saw the rebel administration of Joseph Foveaux as illegal (he had arrived as lieutenantgovernor but upon finding Bligh under arrest refused to free him and assumed the governorship).46 Suttor, who had petitioned against the actions of Johnston and Macarthur following Bligh’s arrest, fell foul of Foveaux and was himself arrested and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment. At his trial Bligh was (again) honourably acquitted but remained in Britain, and Suttor returned to Sydney in 1812, later nursing another shipment of plants from Banks which he successfully cultivated at his Baulkham Hills farm, establishing a substantial orchard and vineyard and achieving his first successes as a vigneron. A decade later the family crossed the Blue Mountains by bullock cart to again begin a new life at the first inland settlement at Bathurst. This move was only possible because of the pioneering exploration made by John Blaxland, a pioneer settler and explorer of Australia who in September 1806 left for New South Wales to join his brother Gregory. He had approached Banks in September 1804 to support his move as a free settler, there to raise sheep on the brothers’ land grant of 8,000 acres near the Carmarthen and Landsdowne Hills at presentday Luddenham. Driven by drought and tough conditions, in May 1813 John 245

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS began seeking a way through the mountains west into the interior. The route he began was completed in December by the surveyor George Evans, and by April 1815 a road made using convict labour reached as far as present-day Bathurst47. Here, as one of the pioneers of the new pastoralism Suttor established the 320acre Brucedale Station (named for his wife’s maiden name), becoming the colony’s first commercial-scale citrus orchardist, one of its earliest producers of both olive oil and wine, and author in 1843 of The Culture of the Grape-Vine, and the Orange, in Australia and New Zealand. With good justification George Suttor may be called the father of Australian horticulture.

II SECURING THE FUTURE . . . AND SHEEP Without Banks’s ever-watchful assistance and active agitation behind the scenes the fledgling colony might have failed during its early years of struggles. Yet his gaze was not solely restricted to Sydney Cove and its immediate environs. In the late 1790s, and once again motivated by disappointment that New South Wales had yielded up no economically advantageous taxa, Banks floated an idea to the Admiralty for a comprehensive survey of the coastline of New Holland. As with so many voyages of discovery that Banks advocated, this one too had a colonial agenda. With other European powers – notably France – eyeing up unclaimed parts of the vast land mass, the aim was to secure the whole for Britain. With additional support from Governor Hunter (1737–1821), who had succeeded Phillip in 1795, Matthew Flinders was dispatched on his third voyage to the Southern Ocean in 1801. As well as surveying the coastline (during which he made the first circumnavigation of what he called Australia), Flinders’s brief was to prevent a rival French expedition from settling the western side of the land. The expedition was another classic example of Banks’s objective of allying government and science, that state-sanctioned voyages of geographical discovery should simultaneously facilitate scientific advance. To this end he secured permission from the first lord of the Admiralty to add a civilian list of five scientists (assisted by four servants) to the ship’s muster. 246

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA Interestingly, the HEIC independently put up £1,200 in batta or ‘table money’, as Banks put it to Flinders ‘to Encourage the men of Science to discover such things as will be useful to the Commerce of India & to find new passages’.48 In addition to the astronomer John Crosley (who left the voyage at the Cape of Good Hope) and John Allen (b. 1775), an experienced miner, as mineralogist, the scientific team comprised the twenty-eight-year-old botanist Robert Brown as naturalist (salary £420), Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826), a botanical painter (salary £315), and the Kew-trained gardener, Peter Good (salary £105), who was tasked to collect live plants and viable seed. Good had already worked for Banks: in September 1794 he had sailed for Calcutta in the Royal Admiral as assistant to Christopher Smith (see above, p. 222). The Investigator reached the most southwesterly mainland point of New Holland, which Flinders named Cape Leeuwin, on 6 December 1801 and began charting the new coastline before on 8 April 1802 encountering the French vessel commanded by Nicolas Baudin in what Flinders named Encounter Bay. This brief contact was sufficient to dissuade the French from settling, and the Investigator continued on its survey, arriving at Sydney Cove on 9 May. Here, the scientific team disembarked (Good died of dysentery on 19 June); here too, Bauer and Brown, while recovering from scurvy, met the irascible George Caley, who rudely refused Banks’s written offer to join the Investigator team. As Governor King, who found Caley ‘eccentric and morose’, reported to Banks, Caley was ‘very angry at having Mr Brown here, who he cannot help considering as a labourer in the field that ought to be wrought by himself ’.49 Unperturbed, Brown and Bauer split their forces in order to cover more ground. Brown visited Tasmania for nine months, returning to Sydney in August 1804 from where he explored the Hawkesbury and Grose rivers to the west and the Hunter River to the south. Bauer visited Norfolk Island for eight months and undertook excursions to Newcastle, the Blue Mountains and the south coast of New South Wales. With their explorations successfully completed, the pair left Sydney in May 1805 in the newly revivified Investigator under Captain William Kent. Upon completing his circumnavigation in 1803, Flinders had had the leaking Investigator surveyed, and with her declared unseaworthy he had decommissioned her at Port 247

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Jackson to be used as a storage hulk. A year later in 1804 Governor King had her resurveyed, repaired and recommissioned; arriving back in Britain on 13 October 1805 with their botanical specimens and artworks Brown and Bauer received the delighted thanks of Banks; the zoological collection of ‘dried skins of birds [and] about 150 quadrupeds’ had suffered insect-damage or had been lost in the wreck of the Porpoise (see below, p. 248), but the botanical collection which included Good’s extensive collection of seeds and plant specimens comprised an impressive ‘3400 plant species from New Holland and New South Wales [and] 200 from Timor’.50 Of the New Holland collection about 2,000 were new to science: Hortus Kewensis credits 116 species to Good and through his later work Brown was author of nearly 1,200 species. Under Brown’s guidance Bauer returned with eleven cases of drawings containing: ‘1541 plant drawings from New Holland and New South Wales, 80 from Norfolk Island, 60 from Timor, and 89 from the Cape of Good Hope; of animals some 273 from New Holland and New South Wales and 40 from Norfolk Island.’51 The Admiralty extended both men’s employ – Brown to write up the botanical findings and Bauer’s to make the engravings and hand-colour the prints for his Illustrationes Florae Novae Hollandiae (1813), to which Brown contributed the limited text. He also published the first attempted systematic account of the Australian flora, Prodromus Florae Novae Hollandiae et Insulae Van Diemen (1810). Disappointingly, though, both pioneering publications were commercial failures. Unable to find a suitable ship to continue his survey, Flinders left Sydney Cove for Britain in 1803 as a passenger aboard the Porpoise, which also carried Allen and a large part of the zoological collection. Unfortunately the ship was wrecked on the Great Barrier Reef and the extended return of Flinders is a sad story that heavily involved Banks. Having survived the wreck of the Porpoise, Flinders navigated the ship’s cutter back to Sydney, where he arranged the rescue of the remaining marooned crew before taking command of the 29-ton schooner HMS Cumberland and again setting out for Britain. Unfortunately the ship was in poor condition and Flinders was forced to put in at the French-controlled Isle de France (Mauritius) on 17 December 1803. With the two countries at war since the previous May, the French governor Charles-Mathieu-Isidore Decaen was 248

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA determined to find some ambiguities over the scientific status and mission of the ship, and so doing seized both the vessel and Flinders. When he heard the bad news Banks did all he could to secure Flinders’s release, but in spite of strenuous efforts and lobbying over several years it was not until October 1810, that Flinders, now in ill health, finally arrived home after an absence of some nine years. PROMOTING ANTIPODEAN TRADE

The same year that saw Flinders depart, and in an example of the increasing size and reorganisation of the machinery of state, the responsibility for colonial affairs was transferred to the newly created Department of War and the Colonies. Its first secretary, Lord Robert Hobart (1760–1816), who held the post between 17 March 1801 and 12 May 1804, allowed Banks to continue with his unofficial responsibility for New South Wales. As a former surgeon at Sydney told the prominent colonist D’Arcy Wentworth in October 1804, it was Banks ‘under whose directions that Colony is now chiefly placed’,52 and the status quo continued under Hobart’s two successors, both of whom held the post but briefly: John Pratt, first Marquess Camden between 14 May 1804 and 10 July 1805 and Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh from 10 July 1805 until 5 February 1806. An exciting arrival at London in the early summer of 1805 demonstrated both the economic progress being made by the colony and a problem arising from this success. On 19 June, the Lady Barlow docked with the first cargo of produce entirely gained through the enterprise of the colonists – 264 tons of ‘elephant’ (seal) oil worth £5,280, 13,730 seal skins worth £2,746 and 3,673 feet of bloodwood timber.53 The ship and cargo, however, were immediately seized by British customs officers in contravention of the HEIC Charter that gave it a trading monopoly in the lands east from the Cape of Good Hope to Cape Horn. Being a useful contributor to the greater British good was part of Banks’s agenda for the new colony, and the import issue had to be solved. Preparing the ground was the theme of Banks’s paper ‘Some Remarks on the Present State of the Colony of Sidney . . .54’ of 4 June 1806, in which he once again called for the colony to be given all encouragement to develop economic self-sufficiency, stating that all production and export trade ‘should be secur’d, as far as possible, to the mother 249

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS country’; where not, there would need to be access into more ‘local’ – that is to say, Asian – markets. He also highlighted that to achieve these laudable aims would require negotiation and concessions with and from the HEIC. On this theme, and seeking a solution to the dispute, Banks prepared the 750-word paper ‘Some Observations on a Bill for admitting the produce of New South Wales to entry at the Customs-house of the United Kingdom’,55 of 7 July 1806, and working through the Privy Council made a submission to the Treasury requesting that it swiftly produce import guidelines for New South Wales. That year too, and again through the offices of the Privy Council, Banks recommended that the colony be supplied with its own coinage, with the aim of helping to reduce the lawlessness caused by the bartering currency of hard spirits (the economy Bligh had orders to break) and, by means of establishing ‘a Government Banks of Exchange’, to encourage local trade.56 AUSTRALIA’S FUTURE SECURED

At the Department of War and the Colonies, William Windham (1750–1810), the fourth secretary in five years, served between February 1806 and March 1807 before being replaced on 25 March 1807 by Castlereagh, who returned as secretary for two and a half years. For once Banks did not have to establish his credentials with a new man in the job but when Castlereagh’s successor, Robert Jenkinson, second earl of Liverpool (1770–1828, who also held the post for two and a half years) came to appoint a fifth Governor of New South Wales he did not seek Banks’s advice. Most likely because the fourth appointee, William Bligh, had been Banks’s man and had not made a success of the job. Nor this time was the governor to be a Navy man; Lachlan Macquarie (1762–1824) was the first soldier appointed to the position. On 11 June 1812, Henry Bathurst, third Earl Bathurst, became secretary and his fifteen-year tenure at last brought stability to the Department. Moreover, in the aftermath of peace in 1815 he and the Department were at last able to focus more on colonial matters. A former colleague of Banks from the Privy Council Board of Trade (and a fellow sheep-breeding enthusiast), the capable Bathurst, aided by his energetic under-secretary Henry Goulburn, reorganised the department and introduced solid bureaucratic structure. 250

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA Consequently he and the British state became less reliant on Banks’s expertise; the ageing Banks’s health was by this time blighted by gout. As best he could, Banks had facilitated and nurtured the evolution of a somewhat lawless and raw settlement through its starving times and teething troubles to become a relatively stable, self-sufficient colony well on its way to becoming what he had always hoped it would be, a net contributor to the motherland. Under the watchful eye of Bathurst, a conscientious and clear-headed administrator, the colony now received governmental attention. On 23 April 1817, Bathurst wrote to the home secretary, Henry Addington, First Viscount Sidmouth, concerned that ‘transportation to New South Wales was becoming neither an object of Apprehension . . . nor the means of Reformation’, and that the colony was becoming too expensive.57 And in order to investigate the colony’s use of transportation and treatment of convicts Bathurst dispatched a commission of inquiry to Australia. Based on the three reports from John T. Bigge recommending that more settlers should be sent to the colony and transportation should continue, he ordered changes to administration of justice and land distribution. BANKS’S LAST PLANT HUNTER

Banks’s plant hunter, Allan Cunningham , arrived in Sydney from South America in December 1816. In April 1817 and at the suggestion of Governor Macquarie he set out with the surveyor John Oxley (1784–1828) on his nineteen-week expedition west of the Blue Mountains to explore and survey the Lachlan River. Suffering water shortages, rough terrain and attacks from indigenous people the team covered 1,180 miles and penetrated 400 miles inland from the coast – deeper than anyone before them – before returning to Parramatta on 8 September with a botanical tally of some 450 plant species and 150 prepared packets of seed. The next day Governor Macquarie invited Cunningham to dinner and gave him his new orders from Banks. The British government had decided that ‘circumstances consequent upon the restoration of Peace . . . rendered it most important to explore, with as little delay as possible, that part of the coast of New Holland . . . not surveyed or examined by the late Captain 251

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Flinders’.58 The task was appointed to Lieutenant Philip Parker King (1791– 1856) and in a letter dated 13 February 1817 Banks instructed Cunningham to join HMS Mermaid on her voyage to the north and northwest coast (21 December 1817 to 29 July 1818) where he was to collect those plants ‘which could by no other means be obtained’, in order to enrich ‘the Royal [Botanic] Gardens at Kew with plants which otherwise would have been added to the Royal Gardens at Paris, & have tended to render their collection superior to ours’.59 Early in 1819 Cunningham visited Tasmania in the Mermaid and on 8 May sailed for the northeast coast of the mainland. Here he became the first scientist to botanise where Banks and Solander had collected forty-nine years earlier when the Endeavour was beached for repairs, although hostile encounters forced him to return again a year later. Arriving back in Sydney on 9 December 1820 Cunningham was distressed to hear of the demise of his ‘excellent and invaluable friend’ but he decided to remain in Australia and to make a fourth voyage with King in the Mermaid, returning to the northwest coast (26 May 1821 to 25 April 1822). Nine years of travelling extensively in New South Wales followed until he sailed for Britain and settled near Kew in 1831. However he was destined to return to Australia in 1837 as Colonial Botanist following the death of his brother Richard there in 1835. But less than happy with the arrangements he resigned and travelled to New Zealand in April 1838. Sadly, tuberculosis forced him to return to Australia where he died at Parramatta on 24 June 1839. MERINO SHEEP AND THE KING’S FLOCK

In spite of all the economic botanical exertions made by Banks through plant transfers and plant hunters, the colony never became a large exporter of plant products in the way he had initially hoped it would. But export success was achieved in no small part through an animal product about which Banks was also savant, but in which, unusually for him, he did not recognise the full colonial potential. Ever the agricultural improver, Banks was deeply interested in livestock and especially in improving the quality of wool produced by the British flock. He had been initially drawn to the subject at Revesby by Lincolnshire sheep farmers in the autumn of 1781. Early the next year the inquisitive seeker of 252

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA knowledge employed the Swede, Charles Hellstedt to travel to the Low Countries and there gather information on the Continental market for the long wool of which his local farmers were so proud. On his return Hellstedt reported back that English long wool was not regarded as highly as the Lincolnshire farmers believed, the local wool being as good if not better.60 More interesting was the general worry that the supply of fine wool from Spain would be disrupted by war. This sought-after fine wool was produced by the Merino sheep (Plate 32); of North African origin, the breed had been introduced into the Iberian peninsula by the twelfth century, likely by the Marinids, a Berber tribe. From this time on, Spain – both Islamised and post- Reconquista – became renowned for its fine wool; until the eighteenth century the export of Merinos was a crime punishable by death. During that century, however, Spanish monarchs began to send small numbers of sheep as gifts to various courts and rulers. Banks began to research and gather information on British and European wool, being particularly interested in the outcome of cross-breedings in Saxony between the local breeds and the few Merinos gifted there. In the early 1780s the French botanist and natural historian Pierre Marie Auguste Broussonet (1761–1807) had been working on Banks’s fish collection at Soho Square. Following his return to France – Banks sent him off with a gift of a seedling maidenhair tree (Ginkgo biloba), the first to be grown in France – Broussonet was appointed assistant professor at the École Vétérinaire Royale in January 1784 under Louis-Jean-Marie Daubenton, himself an extremely active experimenter in cross-breeding sheep for fine wool. On 10 March 1785, Broussonet informed Banks that he had a gift for him: one ram and one ewe of the true Spanish fine-wooled breed (albeit raised in France). The pair was delivered to Spring Grove in July and became the genesis of the Spring Grove flock.61 Beyond his personal interest in breeding, Banks was also instrumental in establishing Merinos in the royal flock. When, in mid-January 1787, Banks informed ‘Farmer George’ that Spanish fine wool was being produced well in Saxony, His Majesty was impressed, and according to the king’s equerry, Colonel Robert Fulke Greville, ‘having paused upon it a little in fixed consideration, His Majesty asked Me if some Spanish Sheep might not be procured & brought into 253

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS this Country. I readily replied that I thought that they might but that I was not prepared at once to decide by what means . . . His Majesty then commanded me to give further consideration on the means most advisable & to report the result to Him, the next time He rook his Ride.’62 Greville consulted with Banks, who immediately offered his services and when the king was told, he ‘instantly replied “Sir Joseph Banks is just the Man. Tell Him from Me that I thank Him, & that his assistance will be most welcome.” ’63 Banks was called in straight away to discuss the practicalities with the king: ‘the speculation was instantly and carefully begun’ (a polite way of saying that a plan was immediately hatched for heist and smuggling). Banks affected a two-pronged approach, to acquire the Merinos either from Saxony or from Spain via Portugal; he meanwhile revealed in a letter to the British envoy to the elector of Saxony that he was prepared to use subterfuge and theft to achieve his aim: ‘Are the Spanish sheep so defended that it would be impossible to procure any or could a score be procurd for a handsome price & driven to a Place from whence they might be sent here?’64 The answer was ‘yes’ and, with Saxony a non-starter, Banks turned his attention south; the sea captain Michael Firth managed to smuggle out of Spain two yews and one ram and transport them to England from Lisbon. These were ‘of the best Spanish Breed’, as he wrote to Banks on 4 March 1788, along with a promise he could get many more the next season.65 The king and Banks admired these first Spanish Merino sheep at Kew on 4 April – the date Banks gave to be the true start of the Merino breed in the national flock.66 From this modest beginning and over the next five years, ten rams and sixty-six ewes were smuggled into England to join the royal flock. More had come from Daubenton that previous January, and in 1791 arrived another surreptitious delivery of what turned out to be Negretti sheep from one of the most famous Spanish cabañas. Through his cross-breeding experiments at Spring Grove and his additions to and management of the king’s flock, Banks was a proactive pioneer in the establishment of Merino sheep and the fine-wool industry in Britain. From these two small, private enterprises rose the truly huge British colonial wool trade and home manufacture of the nineteenth century. 254

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA JOHN MACARTHUR AND THE AUSTRALIAN FLOCK

Wool was Australia’s fourth-largest export commodity in 2018; Merino sheep sold from the royal flock in the early nineteenth century played a direct and important role in the establishment and evolution of the Australian wool industry. Ironically it was the rebellious, hot-tempered John Macarthur who had the foresight and energy to almost single-handedly establish the Australian wool industry and develop it so swiftly and on such a grand scale. Macarthur had arrived with the Second Fleet in 1790 as a lieutenant in the New South Wales Corps. He was granted 100 acres at Rose Hill near Paramatta in February 1793, which he had expanded to 200 acres by the following April; in honour of his wife he named the property Elizabeth Farm (Plate 31). Here in 1794 he began his sheep-breeding experiments, crossing Bengal ewes from India with Irish wool rams. Two years later, when a pair of ships were sent to obtain supplies at the Dutch Cape Colony, Macarthur asked both commanders – William Kent in the Supply and Henry Waterhouse in the Reliance – to procure him any good sheep they could find. By a great stroke of good fortune they returned with pure Merino sheep from the jealously guarded Escorial flocks (once owned by King Philip II) which Charles IV of Spain had presented to the Dutch government and which it had subsequently sent to the Cape. Some were acquired by Macarthur, and Waterhouse also kept some to augment his little flock at his farm near Parramatta. Entrepreneurial and far-sighed in the matter of sheep Macarthur certainly was; he was also an argumentative and aggressive man. In 1801, following various allegations of assault and blackmail, and having fought a duel in which he wounded his commanding officer (and Banks’s friend), William Paterson, he was returned to Britain by Governor Philip King, there to stand trial. Once arrived however, the court immediately ordered he be tried in Sydney, where the evidence was. But this was no wasted journey: Macarthur had foresightedly brought with him the latest samples of his pure Merino wool and the best of the crossbred. He reached London on 21 December 1802, perhaps intending to call on Banks: en route he had picked up six cases of plant specimens addressed to the great man from Christopher Smith at Ambon in the Moluccas, and another collection from 255

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Lord Valentia at Saint Helena, who had also provided him with a personal letter of recommendation. But Banks was bed-ridden with an especially debilitating attack of gout; when Macarthur received no more than a note of acknowledgement he took this to be a snub and became very angry at what he perceived to be Banks’s gross incivility. Yet Macarthur had already made a positive impression: some seventeen months earlier, on 9 July 1801, Banks had delivered to Henry Lacocke, a wool stapler from Bermondsey, ‘8 fleeces from N.S. Wales to be examined and Reported upon’. This was the first wool to arrive from the colony, sent ‘for the opinion of Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society’ by Governor King and brought to him by the retiring Governor John Hunter. The fine wool most positively looked upon by Lacocke was that shorn from the sheep Macarthur had acquired from the Cape and ‘said to be of Spanish Breed’.67 In the absence of the incapacitated Banks it was Lacocke and John Maitland, a knowledgeable importer of Spanish fine wool, who passed a favourable assay of Macarthur’s colonial fine wool. Encouraged by the equally positive response from merchants and textile manufacturers alike, Macarthur moved with a haste driven by opportunity and by the end of July 1803 he had prepared for John Sullivan, under-secretary of state at the Colonial Office, a ‘Statement of the Improvement and Progress of the Breed of fine-wool led Sheep in New South Wales’ which was subsequently published in London under the same title and in the same year. William Fawkener, senior clerk of the Privy Council, sent a copy to Banks, who replied from Revesby on 22 September recommending more evidence be sought concerning the quality of colonial pasture for the grazing of fine wooled sheep. Although always one to examine the pros and cons of an enterprise, in spite of Macarthur’s rude reaction to not being received by Banks upon his arrival in London, Banks held no enmity personal or otherwise towards Macarthur, for in a letter to the member of Parliament John Maitland of 31 March 1804 he gave a positive response to the entrepreneur’s sheep scheme. Offering advice on what he termed the ‘New South Wales sheep adventure’, he recommended lots of 100,000 acres be granted as ‘Sheep Walk’ with a new lot offered ‘as soon as the former has been occupied as far as 10,000 acres’.68 In related notes, Banks 256

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA made comments on an association, proposed by Macarthur, ‘for the purpose of Cultivating in a large Scale the breed of Fine wool’d sheep in H.M. Colony of N. South Wales’. Again his tone is positive, estimating that at least £10,000 would be raised by subscription for this ‘Patriotic Purpose’ and noting that the subscribers should be formed into a ‘body corporate’ to be allotted 1 million acres in 100,000-acre parcels; not as ‘Absolute Grants of Land’ but rather on a system of ‘Privilege Somewhat similar to that which the Proprietors of the Merino Flocks in Spain Enjoy’. But, ever the realist, Banks sounded a note of caution: ‘The Success of the Enterprise will manifestly be an advantage of no inconsiderable importance to the manufacturing interest of this Kingdom & Even in the Event of its Failure much benefit must arise w the infant Colony by the money that will be sent there for the purpose of trying the Experiment.’ Further evidence for the scheme was presented to and discussed by the Privy Council Committee for Trade in the late spring and early summer of 1804, and on 14 July its recommendations – ‘it is well deserving the attention of His Majesty’s Government to encourage the produce of fine wool in the colony of New South Wales’69 – was passed to Edward Cook, under-secretary of state at the Colonial Office. That same month, in another triumph for Macarthur, the secretary of state at the Department of War and the Colonies issued him a conditional grant of 5,000 acres for sheep pasturage (this was to be in the vicinity of Mount Taurus along the Nepean River). But the icing on the cake for what had been a particularly successful trip came on 15 August, at the first public auction of forty-four of His Majesty’s Spanish sheep from the flock that had so long been the joint passion of the king and Banks. Held at Kew, ‘in the field south of the Pagoda’ (now the Richmond Cricket Club ground, just outside the current boundary of the garden), Macarthur purchased seven rams (six shearlings and one four-tooth) and three old yews.70 A happy man, Macarthur now set sail for home on 29 November in the whaler Argo. Two rams and two ewes had died by the time he reached Port Jackson on 7 June 1805, but this small nucleus of true Negretti Merinos together with the descendants of his Cape Merinos was the genesis, it may be claimed, of Australia’s fine wool trade. Yet Macarthur the entrepreneurial wool magnate was also 257

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Macarthur the irascible; his hot temper was to get him into trouble with the home government for his part in the 1808 Rum Rebellion (see above, p. 244). Following Bligh’s overthrow, Macarthur assumed the post of colonial secretary in the rebel government before leaving for London on 31 March 1809. Aware charges would be laid against him in the event of his return to Sydney, he lobbied for and gained a conditional right of return, but refused to accept its conditions, namely that he admit his wrongdoing and promise good behaviour in the future. Thus he remained in England until Lord Camden granted him unconditional return in 1817, during which time his wife was largely responsible for developing the flock back in New South Wales. But personalities apart, from 1808 onward, when the first wool exports came to Britain, the Australian wool industry fast become a success and one of the cornerstones of exactly what it was Banks wanted for the colony – a useful, exporting outpost of empire. TOO MANY SHEEP

In the autumn of 1807, Banks, citing his poor health, petitioned the King that he be released from his responsibility for the royal flock of Merinos, a request regretfully granted. But Banks remained on hand to offer expert counsel when, early in the Peninsular War (1807–14) between Spain and the French Empire, there suddenly came the opportunity to acquire huge numbers of Merinos where before it had been so difficult to obtain a few. In the aftermath of the Dos de Mayo uprising in Madrid (2 May 1808), some 1,500 refugee Merinos from the famous Paular cabaña arrived at Richmond Park, a gift from the Junta of Asturias to King George III in hope of reciprocal aid to fight Napoleon. Although laid low by gout in March and April 1809, Banks set down his ‘Project for the Establishment of Merino Flocks in Various Parts of the Kingdom under the Immediate Superintendence and Control of the Committee of the Privy Council for Trade’.71 However, the gift from Asturias was nothing compared to what Andrew Cochrane-Johnstone, a thoroughly disreputable soldier, had to offer, in a letter written from Seville on 3 May that year. Addressed to Sir John Sinclair (1754–1835) at the Board of Agriculture, Cochrane-Johnstone announced the 258

THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA British possession of the entire Negretti cabaña flock and requested transports to ferry the 12,000 head to Britain. Sinclair passed the problem to Banks for a solution and following a flurry of communications and worry about how to move and what to do with quite so many sheep, only 1,500 arrived at Kew that summer; these though were in too poor a condition to be sold at the now annual public auction of the king’s sheep, held that year on 29 July. The event, however, was the cause of a rare but serious falling-out between the monarch and Banks. Despite Banks no longer being in charge of the flock, the ailing king was outraged to hear that certain sheep had been sold ahead of time by a private arrangement to the noted agricultural improver, Thomas Coke of Holkham Hall, Norfolk. The monarch, indignant, blamed Banks, who wrote an explanatory missive to the king in which he further declined to ‘continue any longer to be responsible for the business of the sheep’. The king calmed down, and as far as he was concerned the matter was closed; but not so Banks who, in spite of placatory words from Colonel Greville, remained for a time upset, replying that he did not care to be dismissed ‘by a declaration that his intentions were good which implied that his conduct was bad’.72 Eventually though, the storm did blow over. Two years later Banks was accorded a final ovine honour when on 4 March 1811 at the founding meeting of the Merino Society he was elected life-long president.

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EIGHT 

The Scientist-Enabler

I PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY Perennially curious, Banks had a deep thirst for knowledge, and over the years came to be an authority on many subjects. He gleaned his information from various sources, including discussions and correspondence with colleagues, meetings held, and monographs and periodicals published by learned societies; between 1761 and 1819 Banks joined over seventy local, national and international bodies of this kind.1 Of many he was either a foreign or honorary member, but to a number of British associations, boards, councils, institutes and societies he either made important contributions as an official or was an influential and guiding founding member. And it was as a member or official of these various intellectual bodies that Banks’s counsel was sought by, and his influence exerted on, governments and corporations. The most prestigious office Banks held, however, was president of the Royal Society, a chair he occupied for an unbroken forty-one and a half years from November 1778, making him, still, the Society’s longest-serving president. As he later admitted, he ‘livd in no particular station till . . . [he] was elected President of the Royal Society’.2 Thus the chair was not just an honour but, importantly, set him at the centre of Georgian scientific and social life for more than four decades. Today the world’s oldest national scientific institution, the Royal 260

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER Society was founded on 28 November 1660 by a committee of twelve natural philosophers following a lecture by Sir Christopher Wren at Gresham College. With its Royal Charter granted by King Charles II on 15 July 1662, the new ‘College for the Promoting of Physico-Mathematical Experimental Learning’ held the aim of acquiring natural knowledge through experimental investigation. In 1777 the president was Sir John Pringle, who had taken the chair in November 1772, and who was additionally appointed physician-in-ordinary to Queen Charlotte in 1774. A year later fighting broke out in the American colonies and Pringle lost the king’s good graces over, of all things, whether lightning conductors were most efficaciously designed with a round ball or a sharp point at the terminus. The Board of Ordnance, supplier of munitions and equipment to both the Army and the Navy, had first consulted the Society over the best way to protect its ammunition stores from lightning strike in 1773. Then, Benjamin Franklin, a respected Fellow and acknowledged expert on electricity, personally wrote the report based on his research, in which he recommended spiked conductors. Unfortunately, in 1777 a lightning strike on a Purfleet gunpowder magazine which had been fitted with a Franklin-style lightning conductor in 1772 had caused an explosion. In the aftermath the society was presented with a second request for advice, and made the same answer, but this time things got political. The spike advocates were drawn into an acrimonious debate with a rival theoretician, Benjamin Wilson, who championed a blunt or knobbed conductor. Moreover they were now fighting a scientific battle in support of a political renegade, for Franklin was a co-author of the 1776 United States Declaration of Independence, a man believed by King George to be a rebel leader and thus now his sworn enemy. In a fit of unscientific patriotism the king had his conductors changed to knobbed ones and urged the Royal Society to revise its advice. Pringle however refused, informing the king that he could not ‘reverse the laws and operations of science’.3 Falling out with the king was foolish enough at a personal level, but doubly so if you were president of the Royal Society, a relatively impecunious institution that relied on the king’s good graces and generosity; it will be recalled that the Society’s expedition to observe the transit of Venus in 1768 was only made possible because of a grant from the king (see above, 261

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS p. 38). It could be too that Pringle held pro-revolutionary sympathies: ‘Having excited much disgust by indecent expressions of regard to the cause of the lately revolted colonies of North America, [Pringle] found it prudent to resign the chair of the Royal Society.’4 In the summer of 1778, while he was still busily engaged arranging his new home at Soho Square, it was brought to Banks’s attention – it was the cheerful, gossipy Solander who learned of the notion from other Fellows and wrote to him of it August – that he would be considered a viable successor to Pringle.5 None of the forty-seven peers of the realm, elected under special regulations, inspired as candidates, but there was one possible alternative, Alexander Aubert (1730–1805). The very wealthy and notably older businessman was an accomplished amateur astronomer and was preferred by Pringle – an endorsement which may have in fact worked against him. Banks began to put out feelers, particularly among those of his antiquarian friends and colleagues who were Fellows, and in October was himself canvassed verbally and by letter. On 30 November 1778 the thirty-fiveyear-old Banks was almost unanimously elected president of the Royal Society by a majority of 220 votes. Held up by post-ballot formalities, he was late for the annual dinner that followed and arrived at the famous Crown and Anchor tavern on the Strand, in the words of the Rev. Sir John Cullum, ‘quite out of breath’; as he took his seat opposite him Banks exclaimed ‘with good humour but with rather too little dignity “I believe never did a President of the Royal Society run so fast before”. However, his behaviour through out was very proper’.6 Banks was not a leading scientist; he had not formulated a scientific law or a mathematic formula, nor had he discovered a new celestial body: his election was thus not the choice of a leading light but of a fence-mender, a man known for his close friendship with the monarch and, as he emphasised in his inaugural speech, ‘free from the Shackles of Politicks’. Fully aware of the agenda that had brought him the chair, he adopted a humble tone, but used his speech to set the tenor of his presidency: I accept then with the deepest sence of Gratitude the important trust which you have reposd in me, but conscious of my utter inability of filling the Chair in which a Newton has sat with any comparative degree of Literary 262

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER reputation I must fix my hopes of your future favor on a humbler basis Care of your honor & dignity, attention to your interests & welfare & an equal encouragement given to all branches of Science without undue preference to my Favorite Study must in me supply the place of more Brilliant Qualifications . . .7

Banks was officially presented to the king on December 4, not as was usual by his predecessor, but by his old friend Lord Sandwich; and under Banks the Society and monarch came closer than they had been for a century. As Banks explained to Lord Hawkesbury in 1788, he devoted his presidency to ‘the Scientific Service of the People’;8 and believing the people also to be the government he was a staunch advocate of the Baconian ideal of a strong partnership between government and science. But he knew too that since the Society’s founding it had been an infrequent union – the Royal Navy’s involvement in the Endeavour expedition being a rare and successful exception. Therefore Banks was unwavering in his efforts to advance governmental patronage of science through the influence of those Fellows who were also state officials, by lobbying and canvassing, and by demonstrative applications of the usefulness of science to the state’s advantage. Yet Banks rightly recognised that in order to achieve his presidential ambitions it was imperative he remain staunchly above party politics. Banks has been described as a ‘liberal conservative’,9 a man who combined ‘Whig faith in the landowner and yeoman with fierce loyalty to the Crown’.10 Nonetheless, Banks resolutely rejected the frequent overtures to tempt him to stand for Parliament. Unencumbered by ideological allegiances, the impartial president, who was nonetheless an astute political animal and operator, became effective as an influential and trusted advisor and advocate to the monarch and to both sides of the house. EARLY YEARS AS PRESIDENT

During that first year of Banks’s presidency came the early signs of the opposition to his leadership that would smoulder away for three years before igniting into open rebellion. There were various causes of this disgruntlement: Banks’s 263

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS relatively young age, that he was a natural historian not a mathematical nor astronomical scientist, his lack of publications and what some perceived as his despotic temperament. However, the venerable Society was itself suffering institutional indisposition. Doubtless the membership was peppered with talented Fellows who individually made important scientific discoveries and advances, but this was an age characterised by institutional lethargy and decay (for example in universities, the church, city corporations, the government) and the Royal Society was not immune. Its particular form of malaise was a toxic combination of outdated rules and customs, an overly casual approach to electing new Fellows, the want of peer review of scientific contributions and communications, and a membership dominated by the privileged class (many of whom were of that breed loathed by true scientists, the virtuoso) who saw no reason for change. At the time of Banks’s election 113 Fellows were members of science and 217 were not (the latter group including the forty-seven peers).11 Banks considered the presidency the greatest honour of his life and he took his responsibilities very seriously. As one of life’s natural administrators and organisers he must have been disheartened to discover the Society’s documents and papers in disarray and its finances in want of order. Self-preservation prevented Banks from interfering in this particular chaos, the remit of the secretaries and treasurer; his input might have been interpreted as autocratic interference. Nevertheless, early in his presidency he did exert his authority and introduced a modicum of reform to the procedure for the election of Fellows. Knowing he could not secure a motion at an ordinary meeting, he instead informed the two secretaries, who enjoyed the unconstitutional privilege of nominating candidates in the sure knowledge of their election, that forthwith his personal scrutiny would be applied. Banks now set down two new rules: ‘That any person who had successfully cultivated science, especially by original investigations, should be admitted, whatever might be his rank or fortune’, and ‘That men of wealth or station, disposed to promote, adorn and patronise science should, with due caution and deliberation, be allowed to enter’.12 Ever the pragmatist, Banks had quickly realised that while wealthy, influential Fellows did not necessarily make good 264

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER scientists, they could pay their membership fees. And together the sum was greater than the parts: scientific advances were made, the less-affluent found patrons, the Society’s costs were met and the powerful gave access to influence. And although his unilateral action was seen by his detractors as evidence of autocratic tendencies, Banks was re-elected in November 1779. One of his first tasks of the new year was a sad one. On 10 January 1780 the sorrowful news arrived of the killing of James Cook at Hawai’i, and when ten days later Banks chaired his first Council meeting of the year the last item of business was a memorial to Cook. In another act of homage to his friend and colleague, and one that was to prove an additional draw on his time, Banks ensured the passage of a resolution calling for a public act of commemoration for the famous Fellow and Copley medallist (awarded in 1776 for his success in avoiding outbreaks of scurvy among his crew during his second circumnavigation). The minutes of Council for 20 January 1780 recorded: ‘Resolved, that it is the opinion of the Council, that the very signal services performed by the late Captain Cook, a worthy Member of this Society, in the many and extensive discoveries he has made in different parts of the globe merit some public act on the part of the Society, as a mark of the high sense they entertain of the importance of those services, and to testify their zeal for perpetuating the memory of so valuable and eminent a man.’ A week later it was proposed that a commemorative medal be struck; the Royal Society Cook Medal was to be paid for by a voluntary subscription open only to members of the Society, at 20 guineas for a gold medal and 1 guinea for a silver medal or two bronze ones (each Society member would receive a free bronze medal in addition to any others subscribed for). Banks headed the list of subscribers with one gold, twenty-three silver and thirteen bronze. Seventeen designs were considered and that of Lewis Pingo, chief engraver at the Royal Mint, chosen. The medal was issued in 1784, with thirteen stuck in gold, 289 in silver and 500 in bronze, but after the distribution (overseen by Banks personally) a surplus of money remained and several more gold medals were produced. The one presented to Cook’s widow is held in the British Museum, London. A happier event for the Society that year was its move of premises from the Wren-designed 265

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS house in Crane Court, purchased in 1710, to Somerset House, which in a demonstration of royal favour had been made available by the king, and where the North Wing was to be shared with the Society of Antiquaries. (However, like a pair of ungrateful children the two venerable Societies squabbled bitterly about the allocation of rooms and being forced to share a staircase.) A year later and early in his third year in the chair, Banks began quietly to solicit for his elevation to the nobility in the rank of baronet. One reason at least was his desire to be accorded the same status as his immediate predecessor and certain other past presidents. His request was placed before the king by the prime minister, Lord North, and on 20 February 1781 Banks received the happy news from John Robinson, a secretary at the Treasury, that His Majesty was ‘graciously pleased to Grant your request’. With the preparation of the warrants completed, Banks attended the Court of St James’s on 23 March 1781 where he kissed the king’s hands before ‘Farmer George’ signed the warrants and Sir Joseph Banks emerged, the first – and only – baronet of Revesby Abbey.13 THE DISSENSIONS

As proud as Sir Joseph must have been, his presidency continued to be troubled by rumblings of discontent from about forty or so Fellows. In 1782 the affair flared up in to what has become known as the ‘Dissensions’. The spark was Banks’s ham-fisted dismissal of Dr Charles Hutton (1737–1823) who, as the Society’s foreign secretary, dealt with foreign correspondence and translated papers for reading at meetings and publication in the Philosophical Transactions. Exactly why Banks was discontent with Hutton is not clear, but he manoeuvred for his resignation, initially by proposing to the Council on 24 January that the translation of papers cease to be the responsibility of the foreign secretary, who from then on would deal exclusively with foreign correspondence. This provocation failed, and so on 20 November Banks ensured the passing of a motion requiring that the foreign secretary be resident in London. As professor of mathematics at the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, Hutton lived at Shooter’s Hill some 9 miles distant, and was thus compelled to stand down. Infuriated and resentful, he did not go quietly and in order to make it perfectly 266

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER clear to all that Banks had to all intents and purposes forced him out, he resigned publicly at the next meeting a week later. At the meeting of 11 December Edward Poore moved that Hutton receive a vote of thanks for his services; Banks objected but it was passed, and a week later Hutton’s written defence of his conduct was read and a motion carried that he had vindicated himself. The affair now took on a dimension beyond Hutton’s removal. The clergyman Dr Samuel Horsley (1733–1806), later Bishop of Rochester and St Asaph, coveted the president’s chair and aided and abetted by Hutton, the Rev. Dr Nevil Maskelyne, the astronomer royal, and Paul Maty, one of the two secretaries, the dissenters manoeuvred to oust Banks. He was variously accused of interference in the election of Fellows, of packing the Council, of favouring natural history over mathematics and dilettantes over intellectual natural philosophers; and the words ‘despot’ and ‘lust for domination’ were used to describe his behaviour. In Hutton’s case the attacks were very personal. He noted down eleven points against Banks, and specifically accused him of ‘Tyrannical overbearing conduct’.14 After three months of accusations, Banks foolishly made matters worse in April 1783 by conducting an acrimonious correspondence with Joseph Planta, the other secretary, over his wish to revise the rules governing the publication of papers. Planta used the letters as further evidence of Banks’s unacceptably dictatorial attitude. The personal attacks continued with Horsley going as far as to state that ‘science herself had never been more signally insulted, than by the elevation of a mere amateur to occupy the chair once filled by Newton’; in an example of another childish insult, Banks was described as nothing more than someone who tried ‘to amuse the Fellows with frogs, flees and grasshoppers’.15 The dissenters pamphleteered, framing their case as ‘a struggle of the men of science against the Macaronis of the Society’ (as Banks’s friend and supporter Charles Blagden described it to him on 27 December 1783);16 yet as the varied accusations reveal, there was no uniting cause and thus no concerted, co-ordinated policy of attack. In contrast Banks’s supporters, led by Blagden and Henry Cavendish (1731– 1810), the distinguished experimental chemist and physicist who discovered hydrogen, were more organised and much more effective. In the first week of 267

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS January 1784 Banks sent a card to all Fellows requesting their attendance at the ordinary meeting on the 8th. A formal motion of confidence in the president (framed by Blagden and Cavendish the previous 29 December) was put to the vote, and despite a storm of protest from the rebels, passed by 119 in favour to forty-two against. Banks remained in the chair but the acrimonious sniping continued at meeting after meeting throughout the late winter and spring, an unpleasantness that interrupted the Society’s real business. By March the true reason for Horsley’s vitriol – his desire to be president – was clear for all to see, and his support drained away. At the meeting of the 25th of that month, Maty produced a pamphlet entitled ‘An Authentic Narrative of the Dissensions and Debates in the Royal Society’ (with hindsight it is a somewhat partisan but still generally fair account of events), which he offered as a present to the Society, from the anonymous editors . . . It was no sooner laid upon the table, than the President rose, and informed the Meeting, ‘that he knew this pamphlet to contain such misrepresentation, and so many passages which reflected upon the honour of the Society, that he considered the offering it as a present an insult upon the Society, and that he should not therefore, unless called upon by a very perceptible majority of the Meeting, propose the usual thanks to the donor’ . . .17

Horsley moved for a motion of thanks, seconded by Hutton and supported by Maty, but with no-one else speaking for it the question was not put forward and soon after Maty resigned, to be replaced on 5 May by Blagden, thus strengthening Banks’s position. A WORTHY FEAST

An interesting and contrastingly harmonious and jolly side of the Royal Society was experienced a few months later by the French geologist Barthélemy Faujas de Saint-Fond (1741–1819). Invited by his friend Banks to dine at the Club of the Royal Philosophers on 12 August, he wrote a unique and insightful account of an event also attended by Maskelyne. It is worth quoting here in full: 268

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER About forty members of the Royal Society have been, for more than twentyfive years, in the habit of dining together sociably in one of the taverns of London. Each member has the right of bringing two guests, whom he chooses, among foreigners or friends of his own acquaintance in the Royal Society. The President may bring a greater number, and can select whoever he pleases for guests. We sat down to table about five o’clock. Sir Joseph Banks presided, and filled the place of honour. No napkins were laid before us; indeed there were none used; the dinner was truly in the English style. A member of the Club, who is a clergyman (I believe it was the astronomer Maskelyne), made a short prayer, and blessed the company and the food. The dishes were of the solid kind, such as roast beef, boiled beef and mutton prepared in various ways, with abundance of potatoes and other vegetables, which each person seasoned as he pleased with the different sauces which were placed on the table in bottles of various shapes. The beef-steaks and the roast beef were at first drenched with copious bumpers of strong beer, called porter, drunk out of cylindrical pewter pots, which are much preferred to glasses, because one can swallow a whole pint at a draught. This prelude being finished, the cloth was removed, and a handsome and well-polished table was covered, as if it were by magic, with a number of fine crystal decanters, filled with the best port, madeira and claret; this last is the wine of Bourdeaux. Several glasses, as brilliant in lustre as fine in shape, were distributed to each person, and the libations began on a grand scale, in the midst of different kinds of cheese, which, rolling in mahogany boxes from one end of the table to the other, provoked the thirst of the drinkers. To give more liveliness to the scene, the President proposed the health of the Prince of Wales: this was his birth-day. We then drank to the Elector Palatine, who was that day to be admitted into the Royal Society. The same compliment was next paid to us foreigners, of whom there were five present. The members of the Club afterwards saluted each other, one by one, with a glass of wine. According to this custom, one must drink as many 269

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS times as there are guests, for it would be thought a want of politeness in England to drink to the health of more persons than one at a time. A few bottles of champagne completed the enlivenment of every one. Tea came next, together with bread and butter, and all the usual accompaniments: Coffee followed, humbly yielding preference to the tea, though it be the better of the two. In France we commonly drink only one cup of good coffee after dinner; in England they drink five or six of the most detestable kind. Brandy, rum, and some other strong liqueurs, closed this philosophic banquet, which terminated at half-past seven, as we had to be at a meeting of the Royal Society summoned for eight o’clock. Before we left, however, the names of all the guests were written on a large sheet of paper, and each of us paid seven livres four sols French money: this was not dear. I repaired to the Society along with Messrs. Banks, Cavendish, Maskelyne, Aubert, and Sir Henry Englefield; we were all pretty much enlivened, but our gaiety was decorous. Doubtless, I should not wish to partake of similar dinners, if they were to be followed by settling the interests of a great nation, or discussing the best form of government; that would neither be wise nor prudent. But to meet in order to celebrate the admission of an Elector Palatine, (who has, besides, much merit) to a learned Society, is not a circumstance from which any inconvenience can result.18

TENURE AS PRESIDENT

Returning to the accusations against Banks, beyond his inept handling of Hutton’s removal, there was a grain of truth to complaints that his conduct was somewhat despotic: even a supporter of his, Dr Andrew Kippis, remarked that he ‘may have assumed a firm tone in the execution of his duty as President of the Society, and may have been free in his rebukes, where he apprehended that there was any occasion for them’.19 There was, too, a whiff of bias in the selection of Fellows. Henry Brougham noted for example that the well-qualified mathematician 270

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER Major Desbarres was refused, but then again Banks similarly rejected several unsuitable candidates.20 Yet as Sir Benjamin Brock succinctly observed in a letter to Charles Weld, Banks was true to the two rules of his early electoral reform, building a Society of ‘two classes: the working men of science, and those who, from their position in society or fortune, it might be desirable to retain as patrons of science’.21 Thus, over the years he was to receive further criticism that the complexion of the Royal Society came to favour connections and wealth over ability and achievement, and that through his selection of Fellows he slightly increased the Society’s links with government and the ruling elite. In so doing Banks did display an authoritarian bent, believing it his presidential prerogative to vet candidates personally. Or as Bishop Goodenough, the vice-president of the Linnaean Society, explained the procedure to a friend in 1805, it was necessary for the hopeful candidate to be introduced ‘either personally or through some common friends who can personally communicate with Sir Joseph, explain to him from their own knowledge all particulars relating to him – his profession – his demeanour – his abilities. It is in vain to make the attempt, unless Sir Joseph be first satisfied about him.’ And Banks’s customary enquiry whether the prospective Fellow was ‘by no means troublesome or factious’ was likely reflective of a desire to avoid any repeat of the Dissensions.22 As to the other accusation of bias, detailed study of the lists of medals awarded and papers selected would seem to disprove this, as well as accusations of packing of the Council.23 Analysis of the subject matter of the papers published in the Philosophical Transactions between 1781 and 1820 reveals that Banks did not unduly promote the natural sciences (which throughout this time were beginning to crystallise into specialised disciplines – botany, entomology, geology, zoology, etc.). In fact the opposite is true, with 72 per cent of papers coming from the non-biological sciences and dominated by astronomy, physics and mathematics.24 With the war won, Banks was magnanimous in victory, indeed he wished for peace to return to the Society. Yet Hutton (whose certificate for election Banks had signed in 1774) did not forgive, and as late as 1815 continued to refer to Banks as his ‘implacable enemy’. Moreover Banks continued to be the target of 271

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS satire and attack; for example in 1785 ‘Simon Snip’ (a pseudonym) mocked Banks on the title page of The Philosophical Puppet Show as nothing more than a purposeless virtuoso, a ‘celebrated conoisseur in chickweed, caterpillars, black beetles, butterflies and cockle-shells’. SCIENCE IS ABOVE WAR

Sixteen years later, on 26 December 1801, Banks’s election as a foreign associate of Paris’s Institut National des Sciences et des Artes in the first class of science, physics and mathematics gave his enemies a new angle of attack. With the country at war the honour had been accorded by the French enemy. Nonetheless the neutral scientist Banks, fully aware of the potential for deliberate misinterpretation, wrote a letter of thanks. In it he expressed his gratitude for ‘the highest and most enviable literary distinction which I could possibly attain’ and his warmth towards ‘a nation which, during the most frightful convulsions of the late most terrible revolution, never ceased to possess my esteem’. Published in French in the Moniteur on 25 March 1802, the missive was translated back into English, whereupon it was seized on by the anonymous ‘Misogallus’, who publicly attacked Banks from the pages of the Cobbett’s Political Register, a weekly, London-based newspaper founded that January by the radical reformer William Cobbett (1763–1835).25 Filled with Gallophobic vitriol, Misogallus expressed ‘disgust at this load of filthy adulation’ for the enemy nation and at ‘the impetuous torrent of [Banks’s] esteem which bears away the feeble impediments of loyalty, patriotism, morality, and religion’. Misogallus’s tirade was subsequently printed as a pamphlet in April, and in November Banks’s letter was the excuse for a fresh anonymous attack printed in the Register during the run-up to the Royal Society elections. Written by ‘A Fellow of the Royal Society’, it appeared on 4 November accusing Banks of being a disgrace to the presidency and unfit for re-election.26 It achieved nothing and on 7 December a final, equally ineffectual sally from Misogallus declared Banks’s re-election as demeaning to the Society. Banks maintained a dignified silence throughout, even though some, including Banks’s friend Dr (later Sir) James Edward Smith (1759–1829), botanist and founder of the 272

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER Linnaean Society (see below, p. 295), believed ‘Misogallus’ to be a collaboration between William Windham and Captain ‘Emperor’ John Alexander Woodford. That the attacks were as unpleasant as they had been was predictable: Banks deliberately and actively pursued a policy of open scientific discourse and communication with fellow scientists, regardless of nationality. For example, he maintained cordial relations and correspondence with Fellow of the Royal Society Benjamin Franklin, one the founding fathers of the United States, with the pair exchanging letters on the subject of ‘aerostatics’ (the novel science and technology of the hot air ballon) just months before the end of the American Revolutionary War in September 1783.27 And throughout the Napoleonic Wars Banks kept open channels of communication with various French scientists. Demonstrative of Banks’s sense of fairness within the scientific community was his handling of natural history collections taken as prizes of war (for example, as part of the cargo of a captured enemy vessel). Banks often became the unintended beneficiary when such collections were landed but he nevertheless worked hard to repatriate them to their rightful owners. Indeed, his election to the French institute may have been in some measure because on no less than ten occasions he secured the return of captured natural history collections to France. A striking example is the collection of the French botanist Jacques-Julien Houtou de La Billardière (1755–1834), a friend and correspondent who had visited Banks at Soho Square in 1785. Six years later he joined the voyage led by Antoine Bruni d’Entrecasteaux in search of the lost La Pérouse expedition.28 While away from Europe war was declared and at Java, Bruni d’Entrecasteaux’s ship La Recherche was seized, along with La Billardière’s scientific collections. The latter were returned to Britain where the government released them to the exiled French king Louis XVIII, who in turn gifted the whole to Queen Charlotte. In late March 1796 she commanded Banks to look over the plant collection wishing only to receive a complete set of herbarium specimens. Banks agreed to sort through the 10,000 or so sheets (which he estimated would take a year’s work) at Soho Square, where he also received the mineral and fauna specimens. However, the French Directory (the five-member committee that governed France from 2 November 1795 until 9 November 1799) applied to the British 273

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS government for the return of the whole collection and, aware of Banks’s influence and principled reputation, both it and La Billardière (now back in France) also appealed directly to him. Banks wrote encouragingly to La Billardière on 9 June that he had found some support for his case within the Cabinet and expressed his belief that international science should rise above international conflict with the memorable phrase that ‘the science of two Nations may be at Peace while their politics are at War’.29 Banks’s lobbying was successful and La Billardière received his specimens later that year. What Banks had done in the name of neutral science was remarkable. He had succeeded in reversing a governmental decision in favour of a hostile nation; he had withdrawn an already bestowed royal gift from the French king to the British queen (he persuaded her to relinquish the collection ‘for the honour of the British nation and for the advancement of science’);30 and he had freely yielded up a substantial and interesting collection that he no doubt would have enjoyed adding to his own. In fact Banks believed ‘Misogallus’ to be ‘Emperor’ John Alexander Woodford; the reason for his attack (as he wrote to William Aiton on 21 December 1801) being Banks’s return of the La Billardière collections: Woodford was paymaster of the French émigrés’ allowance provided by the British government and had a tacit licence from the duc d’Harcourt to plunder the collections.31 Banks was a man of honour and he was respected for it, but his actively pursued policy of fair-minded international scientific neutrality was a pragmatic one, too. After all, Britain too had scientists and their collections transported by sea, and Banks was also operating on something of a quid pro quo basis; for example, through the influence of Benjamin Franklin in Paris as the envoy of the new Congress of the United States, Banks had secured for James Cook in 1779 exemption from attack by the French Navy. And yet Banks was nationalistic: take for example his pro-colonisation stance and his celebration of France’s military defeats. On the occasion of the enemy’s collapse in India, Spain and Persia in 1810 he saluted Lord Wellesley with a gift of fine wine.32 ROYAL OBSERVATORY AND BOARD OF LONGITUDE

Banks was no mathematician but nor was he blind to the benefits of the discipline – especially if its application had useful outcomes. The same was true of 274

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER astronomy. As president of the Royal Society he automatically held the chair of the Visitors to the Royal Observatory and through the Council both controlled the Royal Observatory’s funding and was responsible for the production of the annual Nautical Almanac. Consequently, Banks was strongly of the opinion that astronomy was the sole preserve of the Royal Society: he was quick to respond to a very important astronomical discovery made early in the third year of his presidency by a non-Fellow in order that he and his work be brought within the Society’s orbit. And this was another instance of Banks showing the thoroughly decent side of his character. Between ten and eleven in the evening of 13 March 1781 the self-taught astronomer William Herschel (1738–1822) was scanning the constellation of Gemini from his garden at 19 King Street, Bath when he observed through his 7-foot Newtonian telescope a celestial body which he took for a new comet. His resulting paper, ‘Account of a Comet’, was read before the Royal Society on 26 April. But already, earlier that month, the astronomer royal was mooting the idea that what Herschel had seen was much more significant, and in fact was a new planet. A year of further observation by various astronomers across Europe confirmed Maskelyne’s hunch and Herschel tactfully named the first planet to be discovered since antiquity Georgium sidus (‘Georgian Star’, now Uranus). In the meantime Herschel himself became a star overnight: elected a Fellow of the Royal Society on 6 December 1781 (Banks arranged a special exemption of his fees in recognition of his financial plight) he was also awarded the Copley medal that year, the citation reading ‘For the Communication of his Discovery of a new and singular Star; a discovery which does him particular honour, as, in all probability, this star has been for many years, perhaps ages, within the bounds of astronomic vision, and yet till now, eluded the most diligent researches of other observers’. Then in February 1782 Banks secured a royal invitation for the astronomer and further used his friendship with the king to have a new position – that of king’s astronomer – created for Herschel. To Herschel’s delight the appointment came with a house, £200 a year and a royal grant of £2,000 for astronomical instruments (administered by Banks). William and his sister, Caroline (1750–1848) – a noted 275

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS astronomer in her own right who was subsequently granted £50 a year by the king – moved to Datchet, Berkshire where they pursued their stargazing with ever-improved, self-made equipment, which by 1795 had developed as far as the remarkable 40-foot telescope, the latter funded by an additional £2,000 grant from the king (Plate 34). Yet the practically minded Banks was ever-thoughtful and returning home from a particularly chilly visit to the Herschels on 30 December 1783 he unsolicitedly and with good humour sent William a present of a pair of ‘old Shoes[:] I should not have venturd so whimsical & so unusual a present had it not occurrd to me in the short walk we had this morn that the Construction as well as the materials of them might be usefull’33. Banks must have had large feet and Herchel small ones for the grateful astronomer replied to say he was able to wear seven pairs of stockings inside the shoes while making his observations, a great aid to fending off the bitter night chill of a winter that saw temperatures fall as low as −7 °F, so cold that it risked cracking the great speculum of his telescope.34 The astronomer royal had been one of the foremost of the ‘Mathematical Faction’ that had railed against Banks’s presidency during the Dissensions. But Maskelyne realised that if he wished to stay in his position he was inextricably bound to Banks because of Banks’s presidential control over the Royal Observatory. Additionally, the two men were commissioners on the Board of Longitude; writing to Blagden of the Board’s meeting held on 6 March 1784, the first following his victory over the Dissenters, Banks smugly gloated that he had extracted some small revenge on Maskelyne in the form of a censure for acting without the committee’s permission in the matter of certifying Mr Bonds and Messrs Wright and Gill (the latter were a stationary company).35 The Board had been established in 1713 during the last year of Queen Anne’s reign with the aim of encouraging research into the best methods of determining longitude at sea, to test such methodologies and to dispense rewards for success. The latter included £20,000 for a timepiece or chronometer that would determine longitude to within 30 geographical miles. In the now well-known story, on 14 July 1773, having endured years of governmental heel-dragging and only because of the direct intervention of the king (who tested the watch No. 2 (H5) 276

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER personally), did the eighty-year-old John Harrison at last receive an £8,750 reward from Parliament (not the Board) for his chronometer or ‘sea watch’ No. 1 (H4). However, neither he nor anyone else received the full £20,000 reward. From his nautical adventures Banks had picked up enough to have a working knowledge of the subject of longitude and its associated challenges, and knew that both the instrumentation and the theory fell under the heading of very useful science. Moreover his interest in the matter had transmitted into expenditure and for his intended second voyage with Cook he spent £400 on instruments including two 15-inch sextants, a Gowin Knight azimuth compass (an early equatorial instrument), and a No. 5 pocket timepiece (these last two made by Jesse Ramsden (1735–1800)). The Board met on the first Saturday of March, June and December, and unlike many of his fellow commissioners (in 1782 for example there were thirtyseven) who were professors from Cambridge and Oxford universities and not recompensed either for their time or expenses, Banks was scrupulous in his attendance. His position as president of the Royal Society was ex officio but he regularly chaired meetings of the working committees and fulfilled an active commissioner’s role for forty-one and a half years. Moreover, he was not afraid to take issue with even the prime minister in the name of independent science. In 1775 two new rewards of £10,000 and £5,000 respectively had been offered for an improved chronometer that would keep time to within two minutes or four minutes respectively over a six-month period. In 1776 a claim for the prize was made by Thomas Mudge Senior, but on Maskelyne’s assessment only £500 was awarded to fund further work. There followed a fifteen-year-long battle by Mudge against the decision before, finally, his eldest son petitioned Parliament in 1792. What now concerned Banks was that a decision which was the responsibility of the Board was to be made by politicians not fully cognisant with the matter at issue, thus potentially establishing a precedent of governmental interference and leading to the resultant gradual eroding of the Board’s authority. Banks argued against the award both on meritorious and administrative grounds, battling with both the Whig politician and leading anti-Jacobin William Windham and in June 277

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS with William Pitt the Younger himself. In an example of his ability to disagree openly on specific issues without in any way impairing a friendship, Banks challenged Pitt to ‘rescue Science from the discredit she must fall into if public rewards are given to those who have the greater [political] interest in preference of those who have the most merit’, adding that he personally hoped that the prime minister possessed ‘that fostering love of Science which Ministers are always believed to possess’.36 Powerful words, but ones which got Banks precisely nowhere: on 17 June the government voted to award £3,000 to Mudge Junior. Eleven years later Banks took on another fight over chronometers, this time with Maskelyne who favoured those pieces made by Thomas Earnshaw and to whom, with the Board’s approval – but not Banks’s support – he advocated a similar £3,000 award be made. Banks was a supporter of John Arnold’s instruments and carried out a number of scientific tests with the aid of George Gilpin which appeared to prove their advantage, results which he published in the pamphlet Sir Joseph Banks’s Protest dated 19 March 1804. This was to be another dispute that rumbled on for years, in this case five, before Thomas Earnshaw and John Arnold’s son were both awarded £3,000. Banks’s last significant contribution to the Board came in 1818, when he achieved a long-held aim to make it more efficient by replacing the non-attending professors. Through the 1818 Longitude Act parliament empowered the president of the Royal Society to elect to the Board five Fellows with expertise in those sciences most likely to lead to a method of establishing Longitude at sea most immediately,37 but it was something of a pyrrhic victory: the Board was dissolved a decade later in 1828. PRESIDENTIAL LEGACY

Whatever his faults, throughout the long years of his presidency Banks guided the Royal Society as an effective administrator perpetuating the Baconian vision that it be a body which afforded a forum for practical improvements as well as scientific discoveries, and that useful science should be ‘the relief of man’s estate’. Ever-conscientious, Banks lived up to the pledge he gave in his inaugural speech in 1788 to give ‘an equal encouragement . . . to all branches of science’,38 and in spite of the gout he suffered in later life he presided at 417 of the 450 278

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER Council meetings held while he was in office.39 Enjoying the general good will of the majority of Fellows, who respected his firm-handed fairness, his perennial re-election was recognition of a safe pair of hands who could be trusted in his dealings with the king (and subsequently the prince regent). This was important because the president was the Society’s conduit to the monarch, advising him on scientific and related matters, something Banks often achieved informally but most effectively by means of friendly conversations when the pair walked together at Kew or at Windsor, and through his written advice to the king’s ministers and the Privy Council. When revolution and social upheaval swept France and much of Europe in the late 1780s and 1790s Banks actively fostered enlightened relations between scientists across Europe, but stood fast as a bastion against turbulent change and violent reform at home, distancing the Society from radical politics; a year before his death he boasted to his friend Lord Sheffield that ‘my Freinds of the Royal Society have not been infected with the Mania of Reform’.40 Thus Banks’s legacy as president of the Royal Society was as a patron and protector of the pursuit of science, an encourager and facilitator of discovery, a promoter of education, and a bridge-builder who linked science with the political process and through the union established useful co-operations in the true Baconian model. Or, as his obituarist in the Gentleman’s Magazine delightfully phrased it, Banks gave ‘science a home in the courts of greatness’.41

II THE MULTIFARIOUS SAVANT The Peace of Paris signed on 3 September 1783 effectively ended the American Revolutionary War. Defeat for the British and the resultant loss of national pride inflicted a deep wound on the nation’s psyche; so much so that King George III himself considered abdicating. In the soul-searching aftermath one of the many issues addressed was much-needed governmental reform. The twenty-fouryear-old William Pitt the Younger – a Tory, or as he described himself, an independent Whig – became Britain’s youngest prime minster in December 1783 when at the fourth asking he finally acquiesced to the king’s entreaty. Many 279

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS believed Pitt’s ‘mince-pie administration’, so nicknamed because they doubted it would see out the Christmas season, was but a stop-gap premiership until a more senior and experienced statesman took up the reins of government. But in the event Pitt’s administration would last for seventeen years, a period dominated by seismic European events including the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. Although his 1785 Bill to remove the parliamentary representation of thirtysix rotten boroughs failed to pass, the ever-energetic Pitt recognised the urgent necessity to extirpate the huge national debt and to restructure the dilapidated machinery of state. The former he achieved through a combination of tax reform, lower trade tariffs and ironically, trade with the new nation of the United States of America. In the case of the last, Pitt continued the work begun by Lord North, who in 1780 had established a commission to examine ‘the public accounts of the kingdoms’,42 in other words those state posts which were in fact under the control of private individuals and hardly accountable to the government. Pitt established a second commission of 1785 and the reports emphasised the need for bureaucratic reform: to dismantle a decrepit system based on informal oligarchical patronage and sinecure, and replace it with what would, over time, evolve into a professional civil service. Central government grew as the institutions and instruments serviced by official office-holders were established; but as it did it became clear that in some instances the requisite skills and knowledge necessary to meet its responsibilities let alone its aspirations were missing. Quite naturally then advice and counsel was sought from a range of experts and of course one such to be frequently called upon was Banks. He had the requisite personal credentials: as a friend of the king he was influential, as president of the Royal Society he was respected, as a wealthy landower he was a well-connected (albeit apolitical) member of the ruling social elite. THE APOLITICAL SCIENTIST-ADVISOR

Additionally, Banks was a practical, enterprising entrepreneur with a flair for improvement and an energetic and effective administrator who achieved results. Equally important was his deep and wide-ranging knowledge. Banks had long 280

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER recognised the advantages to be gained from the exchange of information and ideas; he was for example a member of the informal Lunar Society of Birmingham (from 1775 the Lunar Society), a group of prominent free-thinking industrialists, intellectuals and scientists who believed that advance of science and technology could help build a better world. The Society had no constitution, minutes, publications or membership lists, nor did Banks attend meetings; but he was a frequent correspondent with and friend or colleague of many of it members, including Matthew Boulton, Erasmus Darwin, Benjamin Franklin, William Herschel, James Kier, Joseph Priestley, William Small, John Smeaton, Daniel Solander, James Watt and Josiah Wedgwood. But Banks went further, and as an active member of the Republic of Letters cultivated and nurtured a global network of influential friends and correspondents including administrators, botanists, businessmen, diplomats, explorers, government officials, military and naval personnel, politicians and scientists. By means of exchanges with them and his own diligent studies the keen-minded and perennially curious Banks became an acknowledged expert on a wide range of subjects including agriculture, botanic gardens, canals, cartography, coinage, colonisation, currency, drainage, earthquakes, economic botany, exploration, farming, leather-tanning, Merino sheep, plant pathology and even the plucking of geese. In his capacity as advisor Banks was a politically engaged, politically savvy and politically motivated operator able to adroitly manoeuvre and manipulate the machinery of state. Yet always and scrupulously he remained apolitical, as he wrote to Benjamin Franklin: ‘I have never Enterd the doors of the house of Commons [and so] I have escapd a million of unpleasant hours & preservd no small proportion of Friends of both Parties.’43 Similarly to a friend in 1798 who was seeking his patronage for ‘a place of Emolument’, Banks wrote: ‘I hold no such place myself nor do I mean to receive a Salary from Government. My independence of action & opinion I value beyond any thing that can be given to me and as I am not or ever have been in Parliament I have not even a Vote which I can give to a Minister.’44 Thus, from the time of his election as president of the Royal Society in 1778 Banks remained at the centre of global scientific endeavour and in modern terms 281

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS carved out and evolved for himself the position of what might be today described as an honorary permanent secretary in a Ministry of Science and Technology. He performed his duty as savant-advisor and facilitator-enabler with distinction and skill, in the process gaining the gratitude of his king and the (sometimes grudging) respect of ministers and business leaders. As was demonstrated in the context of his economic plant transfers (see Chapter 6, part III), he did not always succeed with his enterprising, sometimes ambitious schemes but where he did not he laid the foundations for the successes of those who followed. FOUNDING THE ORDNANCE SURVEY

Surveying was another application of mathematics and optical instruments that Banks perceived as useful. The Peace of Paris also marked the cessation of hostilities between Britain and France, and soon after Banks played a key role on behalf of the Royal Society, organising and supervising the British half of an Anglo-French survey to determine the relative positions of the Greenwich Observatory and its sister Observatoire Royal in Paris. Officially his role was one of liaison but it is clear from his active involvement that this was a project in which he was both interested and whose usefulness he could see. The project was the brainchild of Jean-Dominique, comte de Cassini, director of the Observatoire Royal whose memoir was passed by the French ambassador to the foreign secretary, Charles James Fox, on 7 October 1783, then and with the king’s approval to Banks at Revesby. Banks discussed the project with LieutenantColonel William Roy (1726–90) of the Royal Engineers, who had previously worked on a military survey of the Highlands in the aftermath of the Jacobite rising of 1745. Elected to the Council of the Royal Society with Banks in November 1774 and a member of his ‘rebel’ dining club, Roy was duly appointed to direct the survey under the purview of Banks. He in turn was given charge of the £3,000 grant from the Privy Purse for equipment and instruments, the latter supplied by Jesse Ramsden. It had been a particularly cold winter but on 16 April 1784 when Banks was to be found strolling on Hounslow Heath with Roy, Charles Blagden and Henry Cavendish, the weather was almost spring-like. The men walked over a stretch 282

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER of the Heath in a northwesterly direction from near Hampton Poorhouse to the King’s Arbour close by the Bath Road, west of Harlington. This, however, was no genteel stroll but rather a significant perambulation for what was being sought was a suitable 5-mile stretch of land to survey as the baseline from which the triangulations would be made to form the British half of the project (today part of the baseline crosses Heathrow Airport). However, with the location chosen, the pleasant spring gave way to an especially wet summer, and the poor weather delayed the clearance work necessary to create a clear line-of-sight along the baseline until mid-July. On the 16th Banks and Roy together with the civil engineer John Smeaton (1724–92), Blagden, Cavendish and the naturalist John Lloyd gathered to inaugurate the survey. Yet more rain prevented progress and delayed the king and queen’s visit to observe the process until 21 August. Throughout the surveying phase Banks was to be found in attendance: supervising, encouraging and genially distributing hospitality to curious guests from his own tents. The measuring methodology was complex: suffice to say that the five mile base line was accurately measured using three wooden surveying rods (called deal rods) each of 20 feet in length. The survey began with aligning all three rods, each supported on its individual trestle, to an accuracy of 1/1,000 of an inch. The first rod was then carried to the end of the third one and aligned again. This process was repeated 1,370 times to result in an observed distance of 27,404.31 feet. This was a mere 2.9 inches longer than the first approximation measurement of the base line using the specially made 100-foot steel chain (which survives in the Science Museum, London). Concerns that the wooden deal rods could be affected by atmospheric pressure, temperature and moisture led to glass rods being manufactured and used in a comparative survey. By 31 August the work was done and the equipment stored in a barn at Spring Grove, where in early September tests were conducted to assess the impact of moisture on the wooden deal rods. Comparison of dry rod length and overnight exposure to dew added 45.484 inches to the baseline measurement. With the baseline survey complete, Roy commissioned from Jesse Ramsden ‘the great circular instrument’ or Ramsden theodolite (Plate 37). Three years in 283

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS the bespoke-making it was delivered in 1787 and used for the triangulation survey from the historic baseline to Dover, which was reached on 20 September. Three days later details were agreed with the French party for the cross-Channel measurements and the project completed to the satisfaction of both parties. But this was just the beginning, because between 1791 and 1853 the survey was extended nationwide to culminate in the Principal Triangulation of Great Britain or Ordnance Survey of the United Kingdom. Today the name Ordnance Survey is familiar to all British map users and thus, through his involvement with the initial baseline, Banks was an instrumental and formative player in the significant and pioneering survey which in due course culminated in the first accurate cartographical record of the United Kingdom. Moreover, it was this AngloFrench project that inspired the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India begun in 1802 by the HEIC under the supervision of William Lambton and competed in 1871. THE BOARD OF AGRICULTURE

The tireless Scottish laird and member of Parliament Sir John Sinclair began corresponding with Banks over the matter of improving the British sheep flock in 1785 and the following year Banks assisted with introductions when Sinclair took a whirlwind research trip through Northern Europe to study agricultural improvement. In 1790 Sinclair formed the Society for the Improvement of British Wool (of which Banks was not a member) and in the late spring of 1793 asked for Banks’s opinions of his latest scheme, a ‘Plan for Establishing a Board of Agriculture and Internal Improvement’.45 France had declared war on Britain on 1 February that year and food security and agricultural self-sufficiency were urgent matters of concern.46 Banks was in favour provided that the Board be non-regulatory and private; he additionally ruled out any support from the Royal Society. Unabashed, Sinclair recommended his idea to the House of Commons on 15 May, the motion was carried and the Board of Agriculture duly formed on 4 September with Sinclair as president, John Call as treasurer, Arthur Young as secretary and fourteen official members – Banks was the only one not to hold an 284

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER office of state and, together with the surveyor general of Crown Lands, the only one who actually bothered to attend meetings. There were an additional thirty ordinary members and several hundred honorary (non-voting) members, but the Board itself was an unusual beast. Possessing a Royal Charter and funded by the Treasury it was part voluntary organisation, part department of state, but lacking executive authority it could be largely ignored by the government if it so wished. What it achieved in promoting agricultural improvement was therefore through its own initiatives and endeavours. Here the mildly obsessive Sinclair came into his own as the driving force behind the ambitious series of surveys which assessed and recorded the agricultural status of each county, and obstacles to its improvement. The Board produced and published what came to be called the General View county surveys in two series: ‘the original reports’ comprising some ninety-one surveys between 1793 and 1795 and the ‘revised’ or ‘corrected’ reports, some eighty-five surveys between 1795 and 1817. However, Sinclair’s obsession to publish brought the Board into grim financial straits within the first five years of its existence. He blithely ignored the distressing overspend and by March 1798 the situation was so dire that he was removed from the presidency. The surveys were nevertheless a notable achievement but regretfully the Board was met with a general indifference by the government, a situation not helped by the mutual antagonism and antipathy that had developed between Pitt and Sinclair, who was as politically tone deaf as he was budgetarily inept. Thus under his presidency the Board achieved little more except, and at the government’s behest, administering such humble tasks as the bounties for drainage and potato cultivation. One other notable achievement under the presidency of Lord Carrington (1800–3) was the passage of the Enclosure Consolidation Act of 1801, legislation that simplified the process of enclosure and was seen by the Board as a significant catalyst for promoting agricultural improvement. For Banks the outcome of his involvement with the Board was very different from Sinclair’s. From being initially lukewarm lest the Board encroach into the scientific territory of the Royal Society he became an active member and used his position to advance his concerns about, and solutions for, national food security, a worry that had become manifest in 1795 when famine loomed as a result of a 285

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS failed grain harvest. Since its introduction in the sixteenth century the humble potato had been regarded with suspicion by the English but now, and in a somewhat similar way to Antoine-Augustin Parmentier (1737–1813) in France in the 1770s but lacking his flair for publicity, Banks stolidly championed the potato’s many benefits as a foodstuff, pushing for its cultivation and rehabilitation. He even conducted some of the experimental trials, the results of which appeared in such publications as the Board’s Hints Respecting the Cultivation and the Use of Potatoes (1795). And when the prospect of famine reared its ugly head again in 1801, Banks’s proposal dated 3 February to increase the potato acreage47 became the subject of a formal submission from the Board to a committee of the House of Commons called to consider the ‘High Price of Provisions’.48 In another drive to stave off shortages through increasing wheat yield, Banks advocated trialling different cultivars and through the Board determinedly promoted the cultivation of spring wheat. His research extended into the realm of plant pathology, specifically a blight that ravaged the nation’s wheat fields in the years 1803–4. A year later he privately published his Short Account of the Cause of the Disease in Corn, Called by Farmers the Blight, the Mildew, and the Rust. Banks had noticed that mildew-infected barberries (Berberis vulgaris) were frequently found in the vicinity of diseased wheat and hypothesised: ‘Is it not more than possible that the parasitic fungus of the barberry and that of wheat are one and the same species, and that the seed is transferred from the barberry to the corn?’49 Widely ridiculed by the agricultural press at the time it was not until 1865–66 that Anton de Bary experimentally proved him correct. More kind were the words of the Agricultural Magazine in 1811, which warmly praised Banks’s tireless activities on behalf of the Board: ‘The institution of the Board of Agriculture has had its utility greatly increased by means of the counsels of the President of the Royal Society.’50 ENGINEERING AND GEOLOGY

The land was the source of Banks’s wealth and he was an assiduous landowner who worked on both agronomic and livestock improvements. He experimented with breeding sheep for wool and cattle for meat, and became a founding member 286

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER of the Royal Smithfield Club (originally instituted as the Smithfield Cattle and Sheep Society). Established in 1798 the Club’s aim – then as today – was to improve the overall quality of animals for the meat trade by means of organising fatstock classes and staging a national show. Improving the agricultural productivity of his Lincolnshire land, which by the 1790s stood at some 9,383 enclosed acres yielding a gross annual income of c. £5,500, was another endeavour to which Banks diligently applied himself, in large part by increasing the acreage under the plough. The flat, low-lying Fenlands of England are today renowned as some of the richest and most productive soil in the country, but in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries much of the area was wetland. Banks’s ancestors had drained marshes and farmed the reclaimed fields and he continued the tradition. But on a grander scale he became involved in extensive works: embankment, drainage, navigation, survey and accurate mapping, not just at Revesby but across the county of Lincolnshire. One especially ambitious project about 10 miles distant from Revesby that he instigated late in the 1790s was the survey and drainage of the East, West and Wildmore Fens, together with the subsequent enclosure, division and sale of the reclaimed land. The first lots went on the market in February 1802 and by October 1807 the sale of 10,548 acres had raised £433,230, against which the cost of the works had to be set. Banks had placed the project in the capable hands of John Rennie Senior (1761–1821), the last of a number of civil engineers with whom Banks worked on canal, drainage, pumping and surveying projects and from whom he acquired an extensive working knowledge of civil engineering and associated technologies. Another was the multi-talented John Smeaton, who had been involved with the Ordnance Survey baseline, and who had built the third Eddystone Lighthouse 9 miles off the south coast of Cornwall; he also pioneered the use of hydraulic lime, which led to the development of Portland cement and thus modern concrete. Smeaton was in fact the first to call himself a civil engineer, and in 1771 founded the Society of Civil Engineers (now the Smeatonian Society of Civil Engineers). Upon his death in 1792 the Society went into decline, but Banks not only helped re-establish and re-invigorate it in 1793 (in the process becoming an honorary amateur member) but also in an act of philanthropy purchased all of 287

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Smeaton’s papers and persuaded the Society to set up a special committee to publish them. An explanation of the circumstances is given in the Preface of the first of four illustrated volumes entitled Reports of the late John Smeaton, F. R. S. which appeared between 1812 and 1814, with the production cost borne by the Society’s members and the profits returned to Smeaton’s family.51 During his peregrinations through the industrial heartland of Britain as a young man in the autumn and early winter of 1767 (see above, p. 35) the mining industry had piqued Banks’s interest. Moreover there were coal and lead ore works at Derbyshire in which his uncle Robert Banks-Hodgkinson held shares and in which Banks had an interest. Therefore he kept himself abreast of the latest developments as well as learning something of the associated sciences – in particular, geology, developing his knowledge through correspondence with among others, members of the Lunar Society. Unfortunately these mining investments would lose Banks a considerable amount of money in the decade following his inheriting Overton Hall upon Robert’s death in 1792. Nonetheless for the enterprising Banks it was a logical extension to unite his interests in geology and mining with those in surveying and mapping, and advance another pioneering subject: that of stratigraphic geology. William ‘Strata’ Smith (1769–1839), who is today credited with making the first nationwide geological map of Britain, was introduced to Banks in 1801 by Thomas William Coke, the great land improver from Norfolk. At 32 Soho Square the well-versed Smith explained to Banks his ideas on ‘the natural Order of the various Strata that are found in the different parts of England and Wales’. The phrase appears on the title page of Smith’s printed prospectus Prospectus for ‘Accurate Delineations and Descriptions of the Natural Order of the Various Strata . . . ’ dated 1 June 1801. To map the strata was the natural next step. Banks supported Smith intellectually and in 1804 funded him to the tune of £50 for the publication of his first national stratigraphic map. For the next decade Smith continued his pioneering work which resulted in the sixteen sheets of A Delineation of the Strata of England and Wales, with a Part of Scotland. The first edition of the map is dated 1 August 1815 and Smith in his dedication acknowledged his debt of gratitude to Banks (Plate 38). 288

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER THE ORDER OF THE BATH

When, in 1794, Banks was appointed high sheriff of Lincolnshire by Pitt, it was no mere honorary position. With the country on a war footing Banks arrived in Lincolnshire on 11 March to raise subscriptions from among his county’s monied landowners in order to meet the objective and cost of a five-point defence plan issued by the Home Department. The aim was to augment the pre-existing militias by volunteer companies of foot and fencible cavalry troops which were to defend the county in case of French invasion. Banks received the rank of lieutenant-colonel, Supplemental Militia, Northern Battalion, Lincolnshire which he was to resign in November 1798, citing two months spent bed-ridden with gout as rendering him unfit for military service. While no doubt mostly true, Banks was finding the martial demands interfering with his duties as a privy councillor and was thus looking for an excuse to relinquish his commission.52 That March of 1794, however, he also found time to set down his Outlines of a Plan of Defence against French Invasion (published on 4 April as a 3,300-word pamphlet) in which he proposed the raising of a national militia structured around county-organised and funded mobilisations. The innovative concept was not lost on the war secretary, Henry Dundas, who seeing a draft in mid-March had approvingly passed along the idea to the king and government. On 2 April it was proposed that Banks be made a knight of the Order of the Bath, a military honour he refused three days later because he saw in its awarding a political overtone. However, the king was not to be gainsaid and a year later on 30 June 1795 Banks was summoned to the Court of St James’s to be informed that the following day he was to receive the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, and because this time the award was in recognition of his work as president of the Royal Society, Banks accepted. Banks was the first civilian to receive the red ribbon of the Order, and it was an honour King George clearly enjoyed bestowing, as Banks wrote to his cousin Sir Henrey Hawley five days after his investiture: While I was kneeling on the Cushion before the King & the Sword which had [dubbed] me a Knight was Still hanging over my Shoulders the King 289

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Said to me in a Low voice ‘Sir Jos: I have many years wishd to do this’. A mark of distinction so flattering has made me pleasd with an honor which as it came without Sollicitation you may easily beleive not to have been any Object of my wishes, it had in the First instance been made palatable by coming in a direct Course from the pure Fountain of honor without any portion of Ministerial Contamination but this Latter instance of Gracious Condescention had made it inexpressibly valuable to my Feelings.53

In due course in 1803 Banks was made a knight of the Bath and was elevated to the Grand Cross of the Order under the Regency. But of course Banks was never without his detractors, and the honour inspired the most famous caricature of the new knight, James Gillray’s The great South Sea Caterpillar, transform’d into a Bath Butterfly (Plate 39). Published on 4 July 1795, it lampooned Banks as a crawler, a sucker-up to royalty. He is depicted basking in the warm sun of royal approval, a climbing-plant-bestrewn caterpillar rising up (a sexually corrupt and phallic allegory recalling the pornographic satires of the 1770s) and metamorphosing into a gaudy butterfly. Sporting a floral wreath, the red ribbon is prominent across his chest but within the insignia the three crowns are replaced with insects. His wings are patterned with the shells, insects, and crabs of the virtuoso, but the motif nearest Banks’s left shoulder is in fact the bonnet rouge of the French revolutionaries, perhaps articulating conservative fears that philosophical experimentation and intellectual pursuits could stimulate similar catastrophic socio-political upheaval in Britain. The parody caption at the foot of the cartoon purports to be a scientific ‘Description of this New Bath Butterfly’ taken from the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions: ‘This Insect first crawled into notice from among the weeds and mud of the South Sea; and, being afterwards placed in a warm situation by the Royal Society, was changed by the heat of the sun into its present form. It is notic’d and valued solely on account of the beautiful Red which encircles its body, and the shining spot on its breast; a distinction which never fails to render caterpillars valuable.’ As he had with earlier lampooning (see above, p. 173), Banks maintained a dignified public silence. But in recognition of the reason for the honour he 290

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER habitually wore the red ribbon when taking the chair at Royal Society meetings; for him this was more than a personal recognition, it marked a waypoint for the rising status of science within the establishment and a growing awareness of the value of the discipline. APPOINTED PRIVY COUNSELLOR

With its origins and antecedents extending as far back as Anglo-Saxon England, the Privy Council remains to this day an august and formal body of advisors to the sovereign of the United Kingdom. Banks began to have dealings with it in the 1780s, and in particular its Committee on Trade and Foreign Plantations which had been re-established in 1784 as part of its full title explained ‘for the Consideration of all Matters relating to Trade and Foreign Plantations’. Renamed in 1786 as the Board of Trade it was placed under the presidency of Banks’s longtime friend and ally, Charles Jenkinson, Lord Hawkesbury (1727–1808, from 1796 first earl of Liverpool). Those of Banks’s endeavours that came within the orbit of the Committee/ Board and thus brought him to its attention included Anton Hove’s mission to seek out new cotton strains in Gujarat, India, the scheme for developing tea plantations in Assam, India and the transfer of breadfruit from Tahiti to the West Indies (see above, pp. 214–16). Another was the 1788 request from the Privy Council to the Royal Society to provide a detailed analysis of the risk to British wheat cultivation from the American Hessian fly blight and possible means of control should it break out. Banks personally prepared the report, albeit in co-operation with both British and French entomologists. His wheat and potato interventions made in the 1790s as a member of the Board of Agriculture have been mentioned (see above, p. 286), and it was Banks who prepared a 1,800-word report on the nation’s corn supplies at the request of Lord Hawkesbury (who, incidentally, had been opposed to the formation of the Board of Agriculture). Presented on 30 August 1795, his account was thought ‘very satisfactory and elaborate’ by the Board of Trade, which put it before the king who received it with ‘infinite satisfaction’ finding that Banks’s opinions mirrored his own.54 291

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS On 29 March 1797, in large part in recognition of his contributions to the Board of Trade, at the Court of St James’s Banks was ‘Sworn of His Majesty’s Most Humble Privy Council, and took his Place at the Board accordingly’.55 The Right Honourable Sir Joseph Banks was swiftly seconded onto the Board of Trade and the Coin Committee, which had been tasked to ‘consider of the measures necessary to be taken for procuring an immediate Supply of such Copper Coinage, as may be best adapted to the payment of the laborious Poor in the present Exigency’.56 However, soon after taking the oath and having suffered the ill effects of gout on and off since his first attack in the summer of 1792, Banks was struck down with his most debilitating attack yet, crippling him throughout that spring and summer. With links to so many scientific societies, an extended personal network and wide knowledge-base, the connected and informed Banks was to prove an indefatigable and effective Privy Councillor, a flexible pivot around whom many overlapping issues, remits and topics were leveraged for maximum effect. On the Board for Trade he used his position not only to advance progress through improvement but by the very process to assimilate useful science within government, to make it indispensable and thus recognised. As has been noted, one of his imperatives was self-sufficiency, be this military materials such as hemp (a plant product he hoped would be successfully cultivated at New Holland), saltpetre (for gunpowder) and coal57, or food supplies. As a result of the last concern, though no politician he became so closely identified with the passage of the 1815 Corn Law that 32 Soho Square was attacked on 11 March by the anti-Corn Law mob, a frightening event which he described to Sir James Edward Smith: the windows and doors of my house and the hall-table and chairs was all they destroyed. They dared not enter the house as those inside must have been caught, when the soldiers came, and hanged them as burglars. The papers they threw about were old letters of no possible value, but of these the greater part have been picked up and returned to me. Nothing could behave better and few persons so nobly as Lady B and my Sister. They sat by 292

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER me without any expression of extravagant fear till the door was burst open. I then requested them to retire which they did but not out of the house . . .58

Banks’s work on the Committee for Coinage is yet another example of his dynamic entrepreneurship. Two main problems faced the committee. First, the nation had an insufficient supply of specie to mint silver coin (caused in the main by the HEIC each year removing from the country the huge quantity of silver it required to trade for tea with China), a shortage that necessitated a vast recoinage of copper coins. Second, the Royal Mint, mired in arcane practices and oversight, was unfit for purpose. Two years prior to his becoming a privy councillor, Banks had become well acquainted with the matter of copper coinage when he offered Lord Hawkesbury advice on the younger George Dance’s coin designs and the industrialist Matthew Boulton’s new coin presses. Now he devoted himself to the laborious and prolonged business of designing and minting the new copper coinage, including in 1807 drafting a 5,000-word report on re-coining for Earl Bathurst, the new president of the Board of Trade in the new Portland administration. He also committed himself to reforming the Royal Mint, a state institution crying out for change. But turning around what was in effect the independent fiefdom of the Company of Moneyers and the master of the Mint (a lucrative sinecure) was to prove a protracted and painful process. Banks began by playing the mediator between the Committee for Coinage and Boulton, who represented technical advances (including new steam-powered minting technology); the scientist Charles Hatchett, who conducted an important series of experiments on the wear of metals used for coinage; and, in matters of contracts to mint coins, between Boulton and the Company of Moneyers. Nonetheless change was painfully slow and was fought against at every step by the Company of Moneyers. A move of premises for the Royal Mint out of the Tower of London was completed by 1812, but other reforms were not completed in Banks’s lifetime, including the major administrative overhaul conducted between 1812 and 1823 by the first non-sinecurist master for many years, the energetic William Wellesley Pole (brother to the duke of Wellington), and at long last, the abolition of the 293

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Company of Moneyers in 1850. But yet again it had been Banks who had seen what needed to be done, who started the clearance of dead wood and who laid the foundations for the path towards improvement.

III THE DEDICATED ACTIVIST As we have seen, Banks was actively involved with many clubs and societies whose areas of interest intersected his own wide-ranging studies. By his own admission his proclivity had always been towards natural history and while he stood falsely accused of orchestrating a bias towards the subject within the Royal Society (see above, pp. 267, 271), he actively encouraged the formation of a new society with biological science as its specific remit. Yet in doing so he has been accused of hypocrisy. THE LINNAEAN SOCIETY59

The Linnaean Society was the first learned body founded during Banks’s presidency that precisely trespassed on the territory of the Royal Society. In all other situations of potential encroachment on sacrosanct fields of knowledge Banks was assertive in his attempts to forestall them, for example in the cases of the Geological Society (1807) and the Astronomical Society (1820). When the former initially evolved from an informal dining club into a constituted society Banks accepted an honorary membership but resigned it in March 1809 when he came to believe that the new society desired greater institutional autonomy from the Royal Society. But with the latter Banks was opposed to its formation from the first hearing of its proposed founding firmly believing that an astronomical society would be a direct competitor to the Royal Society. In the case of the Society for the Promotion of Animal Chemistry (biochemistry in today’s parlance), founded in 1808 with Banks’s close Royal Society confrère Charles Hatchett as president, Banks was only able to tolerate its existence because Hatchett wrote to him personally with effusive flattery and an assurance that its activities would not impinge on those of the Royal Society. But when it came to 294

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER the Linnaean Society, here was Banks throwing his not inconsiderable weight behind a new biological society whose activities would clearly overlap with those of the Royal Society. One possible reason was realist self-preservation, that he saw the Linnaean Society as a vehicle through which he could indirectly achieve more in the advance of natural history than he knew he could at the Royal Society, while by simultaneously and surreptitiously reducing the emphasis placed on the subject by the Royal Society he would hopefully blunt the accusations of bias from detractors. The Linnaean Society of London was founded by his friend, the botanist James Edward Smith. Carl Linnaeus had died in 1778, followed five years later by his son, Carl Linnaeus the Younger. In 1782, Banks had offered 1,000 guineas for the great Linnaean collection and library but had been turned down (in April that year the younger Linnaeus named the genus of Australian plants Banksia in his honour); now, in the wake of the younger Linnaeus’s demise, Banks was approached by the family and asked if he would take the lot at the same price. This time Banks declined; on what grounds is not clear, perhaps financial, for certainly Linnaeus’s famous assemblage would have made a perfect addition to his own at 32 Soho Square. But by good chance, when the offer to purchase was delivered to Banks at Spring Grove on 23 December 1783 he had a visitor, the twenty-four-year-old Smith. Banks immediately recommended that the young man make the purchase, which he – or rather his father, a wealthy Norfolk wool merchant – did, for a bargain 900 guineas. The consignment arrived in London in late October 1784 and in leased rooms at 14 Paradise Row, Chelsea during that winter and following spring Smith, aided by Banks and Dryander, unpacked and rearranged the contents of the twenty-six cases: ‘Some 19,000 dried plant specimens, including many duplicates; of insect species, 3198; shells, 1564 with another 200 unclassified; geological specimens, 2424; birds, 35. Of books there were some 1600 titles in the library amounting to between 2 and 3000 volumes.’60 That same spring Smith and Banks’s contemporary from his student days at Christ Church, the Rev. Dr Samuel Goodenough, were elected members of the Society for Promoting Natural History (founded in 1782), but it was clear that something was needed to replace this moribund 295

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS institution and for the next three years Banks and the two men corresponded about exactly what. At last, at the Marlborough Coffee House, Marlborough Road on 26 February 1788 seven men (John Beckwith, James Dickson, Jonas Dryander, Samuel Goodenough, Thomas Marsham, Edward Smith and John Swainson) held the inaugural ‘Fellows Meeting’ of the Linnaean Society. Smith was elected president (for life); Goodenough, treasurer; Marsham, secretary; and Dryander, honorary librarian, and these are the four original Fellows named on the Charter of The Linnean Society of London dated 26 March 1802. Banks held an honorary membership from the beginning and while wholeheartedly supporting the Society (including making donations to its library), and no doubt working through Dryander where he thought necessary, he had no executive role. To have had one would have been too obvious a conflict of interests with his chair of the Royal Society. THE AFRICAN ASSOCIATION

A second new venture of which Banks was a founding figure in 1788 was the African Association (or to give it its full name the Association for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of Africa). It was born out of the Saturday’s Club, a group of twelve like-minded liberal-thinkers who shared an interest in exploration, supported the abolitionist agenda and opposed the war with the American colonies, and who met periodically over a good dinner at the St Alban’s Tavern off Pall Mall. On 9 June 1788, six months or so after the First Fleet arrived at Botany Bay, nine of the twelve including Banks and the agricultural improver Sir John Sinclair met for a specially called meeting at which it was resolved that ‘as no species of information is more ardently desired, or more generally useful, than that which improved the science of Geography, and as the vast coastline of Africa, notwithstanding the efforts of the ancients, and the wishes of the moderns, is still in great measure unexplored, the members of this Club do form themselves into an Association for promoting the discovery of the inland parts of that quarter of the world’.61 The west coast of Africa had for long been the source of the millions of slaves shamefully transported to British plantations in the American colonies and 296

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER the West Indies, but the unknown interior came under renewed scrutiny in the 1780s for a number of important reasons. The African Association’s primary aim was geographical discovery, but for Banks personally the allure of exploration was allied (as it had been for Botany Bay and would be for the Pacific North West of America) with the potential scope for future colonial expansion and the economic advantages to be reaped by means of agricultural improvement and plant exchange. In addition there was the emotive issue of abolition, and interest in the area as a large new market for British-made products of the Industrial Revolution, and for its gold. Yet, as the African Association was to learn, the indigenous inhabitants did not receive their ‘improvers’ with much enthusiasm. An unknown correspondent was to write to Banks in 1794 that ‘They express on all occasions a conviction that the soil and country is their own, saying this is not white man’s country, this belong to black man, who will not suffer white man to be master here . . . They have no intention of embracing Christianity, saying they are too old for that.’62 By ballot at the inaugural meeting a committee of five was chosen: Henry Beaufoy, Lord Rawdon, Andrew Stuart, Richard Watson, the bishop of Llandaff and Banks. He was to prove a faithful committee member for thirty-two years, serving as treasurer between 1788 and 1805, and secretary twice, between 1795 and 1797 and again in 1799. Interestingly, at no time did the African Association have a president or chairman. The proactive Banks was a driving force, or as fellow committee member Bryan Edwards later put it, the Assocation’s ‘life and soul’,63 and Banks made things happen in short order. The committee met three times in June 1788, at both 32 Soho Square and the St Alban’s Tavern. On the 13th Banks resolved to enlist the support of the government and four days later reported he had met the home secretary, Lord Sydney, who had promised to approach the king with the matter. On 21st two new rules and fifteen new members were approved and admitted. In time Banks was to promote and cojoin the Association’s aims and activities with various government departments including the Admiralty, the Home Office, the Department of War and the Colonies (after its inception in 1801), and the Treasury. Here his influence was felt a mere six weeks after the founding meeting, with the Treasury official 297

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Sir William Musgrave, writing on 18 July that it was a ‘particular pleasure to be of any service to Sir Jos. Banks whose endeavours are so laudably directed to the publick advantage’.64 The African Association would in 1831 merge with the Royal Geographical Society of London, but in its early years it tirelessly sponsored exploration into the interior of the continent. The prime objective was to discover the course and source of the mighty River Niger and the location of the quasi-mythical ‘golden city’ of Timbuktu (in today’s Mali). These expeditions marked the start of the age of African exploration and no time was lost in the recruitment and dispatch of the Association’s first explorer. John Ledyard (1751–89), a Marine corporal on Cook’s last voyage, had long entertained a desire for ‘traversing the Continent of Africa’ and was known to Banks.65 Three years earlier he had co-funded the thirty-four-year-old on an expedition (made at the suggestion of Thomas Jefferson, now in Paris) to explore the American continent by proceeding overland through Russia, crossing the Bering Strait, heading south through Alaska and thence traversing the American West to Virginia. Ledyard left London in December 1786 and after eleven gruelling weeks of travel made it as far as Yakutsk in the east of Russia. Here he encountered another Cook veteran, Joseph Billings (formerly a seaman and astronomer’s assistant in the Discovery), who was now in the service of Empress Catherine the Great, and leading a larger expedition to northeast Russia. Ledyard planned to join the team but was instead arrested and deported, penniless, to Poland, from where he eventually made his way back to London having been forced to draw on Banks for money. Now, on 30 June 1788 he set out for Cairo and arriving on 19 August began preparations for his westward journey inland in search of a route to the River Niger. Unfortunately he fell ill and died at Cairo, either from dysentery or inadvertently poisoning himself while attempting to relieve his ‘bilious complaint’ with a tartar emetic, or both. Dead by the end of November, he was the first of four explorers to lose their lives in the Association’s service. As Ledyard reached Cairo, so the Association’s second explorer was already en route for the continent. Simon Lucas (fl. c. 1766–99) had spent sixteen years as British consul at Morocco before returning to London in 1785 where he was 298

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER appointed oriental interpreter to the Court of St James’s. Enticed away by Banks with the prospect of adventure he left for Tripoli in August 1788 with the aim of crossing the desert to Fezzan (in modern-day Libya), thence south and west to return home by way of the Gambia or the Guinea coast. Arriving in October, Lucas hired guides but their desert journey was continually thwarted by tribal conflict. Deserted by his team Lucas persevered as far as Lebida from where he returned for Tripoli on 20 March 1789, arriving back at Britain on 26 July66. While his mission had been a failure he did return alive and with useful intelligence on Fezzan. The Association dispatched its third explorer in autumn of 1790. The Irish soldier Major Daniel Houghton (c. 1740–91) was tasked to explore upstream from the mouth of the Gambia River (which flows into to the Atlantic Ocean at the city of Banjul in today’s the Gambia). From the highest navigable point on the river he continued on foot northeast toward Bundu, eventually reaching as far north as the Saharan village of Simbing, 160 miles north of the River Niger and 500 miles short of Timbuktu. Thus he successfully penetrated farther into Africa than any European before him, but tragically in September 1791 he was lured into the desert, before being robbed and murdered. MUNGO PARK AND HIS TRAVELS

The Association’s most famous and successful explorer though, was its fourth, Mungo Park (1771–1806). A Scot from Foulshields, he completed his medical studies at Edinburgh University in 1791 and passed that summer botanising the Scottish Highlands in the company of his brother-in-law, James Dickson (1738– 1822). Dickson was a Scottish botanist, plant collector and mycologist, known to Banks as a founding member of the Linnaean Society and as a Covent Garden seed merchant who at his recommendation had supplied fruit trees to the botanic garden in Calcutta in the 1780s. Later, in 1804 both men would be founding members of the Horticultural Society of London (see below, p. 306). Thus it is likely that Dickson recommended Park to Banks, who in turn facilitated Park’s first expedition as assistant surgeon aboard the HEIC East Indiaman Worcester, which sailed for Bencoolen (today Bengkulu), Sumatra in February 1792. Here Park passed a year’s apprenticeship as a naturalist and upon his return in 1794 299

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS presented Banks with various rare Sumatran plants and had a paper read before the Linnaean Society describing eight new species of Sumatran fish he had discovered. Impressed by his diligence, on 23 July 1794 Banks secured for Park the position of ‘geographical missionary’ to the African Association on a salary of 15 shillings a day in Africa, half that elsewhere. His objective was the same as Houghton’s: to explore the course of the River Niger. Leaving Portsmouth in the small brig Endeavour on 22 May 1795 he arrived a month later at the River Gambia. Setting off upstream, Karantaba was reached on 2 December and from here Park set out, carrying ‘a few changes of linen, an umbrella, a pocket sextant, a magnetic compass and a thermometer, two fowling pieces and two pairs of pistols’.67 Nothing was heard from him until he arrived back at Falmouth on 22 December 1797, thirty-one months to the day since leaving Britain. (However, during this long silence the Association’s fifth explorer, German Friedrich Hornemann (1772–1801) had left Britain in the summer of 1797 to attempt the route from Cairo across the Sahara toward Timbuktu while disguised as a Muslim. He joined a caravan heading in 1800 but was never heard from again; two decades passed before explorers learned he had died of dysentery after apparently reaching the River Niger.) And so the Association had its first big success and Mungo Park returned with a gripping story to tell. He had seen the River Niger but had not reached the fabled Timbuktu and Banks obtained authorisation for him to publish the account, which appeared on 5 April 1799 as Travels in the Interior of Africa (Plate 36).68 An instant bestseller, the first edition of 1,500 copies sold out in a fortnight, netting Park a welcome 1,000 guineas; by 1800 it was in its fourth edition. In May 1798 Park offered his service to make an expedition into the interior of New Holland; realising such an undertaking would dovetail neatly with his ambitions for Flinders’s coastal survey (see above, p. 246), Banks secured permission from the African Association at its General Meeting of 25 May to recommend Park to the Home Office. Permission granted, Park suddenly withdrew, the reason for his change of heart – which annoyed Banks considerably – that he had lost it to Ailie Anderson. Banks tried persuasion but to no effect, and the pair wed in August 1799. 300

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER In May that year Banks (by now a privy councillor) prepared the Association’s policy towards West Africa and on 8 June presented it to his friend Charles Jenkinson, Lord Liverpool, president of the Board for Trade, in the form of a memorandum for the Cabinet. Banks’s and by inference the Association’s views had broadened from merely exploration to now include commercial exploitation – and recalling the French attack at Freeetown, Sierra Leone in April 1794 – possible British colonisation: ‘Should the undertaking be fully resolved upon the first step of Government must be to secure to the British throne, either by Conquest or by Treaty the whole of the Coast of Africa from Arguin to Sierra Leone; or at least to procure the cession of the River Senegal, as that River will always afford an easy passage to any rival nation who means to molest the Countries on the banks of the Joliba.’69 Banks’s concern that rival powers were seriously considering colonising West Africa rose measurably in 1802 with the publication of Sylvain Meinrad Xavier de Golbéry’s Fragments d’un Voyage en Afrique.70 As Banks informed John Sullivan, under-secretary of state at the Colonial Office, by letter on 1 August the tone of the work, he believed, was to promote if not bring about French colonisation of the whole region of Senegambia. Geopolitical fears were compounded for Banks by worries that such a land grab would have a dramatic and deleterious economic effect on British colonial products from the West Indies, in particular sugar. However, the reverse was equally true: if a British colony, the region could become a significant economic contributor. On the basis of Banks’s report Sullivan drafted a memorandum on the development of British trade there, both for economic advantage and as a preemptive thwarting of French ambitions. The matter was taken to the king and recognising the need for more information about the region, in October 1803, Park – who for the previous two years had been happily settled at Peebles practising as a physician – was summoned to London and offered a second expedition, this time on behalf of the government. The collapse of Prime Minister Henry Addington’s ministry put the plan on hold and it was not until 31 January 1805 that Park and his team left Portsmouth aboard the troopship Crescent. Well aware of the potential dangers that lay ahead, Park had secured from the government a life-insurance payment 301

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS of £3,000 for his wife (whom he had left without saying goodbye) if nothing was heard from the expedition within two and a half-years, money which sadly Ailie was to claim: with most of his team having died of fever, his boat, the Joliba, became stuck on a rock at the Bussa rapids, south of Timbuktu, and remained fast. Coming under assault from hostile tribespeople who attacked with bow and arrow and throwing spears, Park, Lieutenant Martyn and two soldiers jumped into the river in an attempt to escape. Sadly all but one were drowned, and the exact date of the tragedy remains unknown. Park’s was the second death of a British explorer in the interior of West Africa in two years. In 1804 the Association had sent out its sixth, Henry Nicholls. With attempts to follow the course of the River Niger and reach Timbuktu all having failed from the north (Tripoli), the east (Cairo), and the west (the Gambia), Nicholls was to try from the south. By a cruel twist of irony his point of departure upriver – from a British trading post at the Gulf of Guinea – was in fact his destination, for unbeknownst to him this was the mouth of the River Niger. By 1805 Nicholls was dead, probably of malaria. The last Africa Association explorer was the Swiss Johann Ludwig Burckhardt (1784–1817), who in 1809 was to attempt the Cairo route again. Given an equipment allowance of £70 and £55 for passage to Malta and paid a day-rate of 10s 6d while in Asia Minor and Syria, rising to 1 guinea a day for a year once in Cairo (to cease if nothing was heard from him after a year), Burckhardt left Britain on 2 March arriving in Aleppo on 14 July. While waiting for a caravan to form and disguised as a Muslim, the Arabic-speaking Burckhardt spent the years until 1815 travelling in Nubia, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine and Transjordan (on 22 August 1812 he became the first European to visit Petra), roaming as far east as Mecca. He passed the last two years of his life at Cairo waiting for a caravan of returning pilgrims to form with whom he intended to head west to Fezzan or the Maghreb. Unfortunately, just as he was at last ready to leave, Burckhardt became another victim of Cairenian dysentery. Thankfully, his records were rescued and subsequently published by the Association between 1822 and 1831, while his collection of Arabic manuscripts is held in the Cambridge University Library. 302

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER AFRICAN ASSOCIATION ACHIEVEMENTS

The annual subscription to the African Association was 5 guineas, which generated an income of about £300 a year or somewhere in the region of £13,000 throughout the forty-three years of the Association, of which some £9,000 was spent on expeditions.71 And while Park’s Travels certainly fired the imagination of the armchair traveller, the Association’s considerable investment yielded a small dividend beyond some new geographical knowledge and perhaps in the short term dissuading French colonisation. Indeed, it may be said that the little gained was paid for by too a high price in human life. In the last decade of Banks’s life the influence of the Association waned as its role was subsumed by the everstrengthening Colonial Office. Yet as in many other aspects of his work, here too Banks had played a formative and pioneering role. The outcomes may not have matched his hopes but the work of the Association’s explorers and in particular Park’s published account were a catalyst for dispelling the homogenised view of Africa and helped advance the abolitionist agenda. Banks had helped set the ball rolling, set an agenda and left a legacy for others to build on – for good and ill. Not until the Berlin Conference of 1884–85 did European colonisation of subSaharan Africa begin in earnest, and then only because of an assured supply of plantation-produced quinine, something else Banks had advocated for (see above, p. 207) but which did not come to fruition in his lifetime. But Banks and the African Association, and to a lesser extent the Sierra Leone Company (see above, p. 188), had placed the first markers. THE ROYAL INSTITUTION

One might think that with the the many calls on his time – privy councillor, president of the Royal Society, unofficial director of Kew, guardian of the Penal Colony at New South Wales, officerships on various committees and his own private studies at 32 Soho Square – Banks would think twice about increasing an already heavy workload and adding to an already full calendar. But that would be to underestimate the man: in 1799 he became heavily involved with founding the Royal Institution of Great Britain, or as it is more familiarly known, the Royal Institution. The driving force in this instance was the American-loyalist physicist 303

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Benjamin Thompson (1753–1814) who was in Britain after an eleven-year stint in the employ of Charles Theodore, elector of Bavaria. In reward for his achievements, which included laying out the Englischer Garten, Munich in 1789 and introducing potato cultivation, the elector had elevated Thompson to Reichsgraf (count) von Rumford. Rumford was known to Banks: on 12 July 1796 he had written to him offering to endow the Royal Society with a biennial award of one gold and one silver medal to the combined value of £60. The Rumford Medal was to be awarded for the most important discovery ‘on Heat, or on Light’ with preference given to such discoveries that ‘tend most to promote the good of mankind’ (today the medal is given for ‘an outstandingly important recent discovery in the field of thermal or optical properties of matter made by a scientist working in Europe’). The inaugural medalist in 1800 was Benjamin Thompson himself, as per the citation, for his sufficiently vague ‘various discoveries respecting Heat and Light’. Both men were avid improvers, but where Banks’s focus was primarily science and agriculture, Rumford’s was science and invention as vehicles for improving the domestic economy and the social conditions of the poor. He was eager to found a scientific institute to run in parallel with the Society for Bettering the Conditions and Improving the Comforts of the Poor, established in 1796 by Sir Thomas Bernard (1750–1818), who was additionally the treasurer of the Foundling Hospital between 1795 and 1806. Rumford assembled a steering committee of like-minded individuals that included Bernard, William Wilberforce (a co-founder of the Bettering Society) and the enthusiastic cricketer George Finch, ninth earl of Winchelsea (1752–1826). The interested men met for the first time on 31 January 1799 to discuss the Proposals Rumford had drawn up in the preceding weeks, after which events moved with alacrity. On 23 February a list of original subscribers – including Banks – was printed and on 7 March the Institution’s inaugural meeting of proprietors and original subscribers was held at 32 Soho Square. A committee of managers, with Banks as chairman, was elected, and the list of names of fiftyeight proprietors and original subscribers (seven of whom were also members of the Board of Agriculture) read. Each had agreed to contribute 50 guineas towards this new ‘Institution for diffusing the knowledge of, and facilitating the general 304

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER introduction of, useful mechanical inventions and improvements; and for teaching, by courses of philosophical lectures and experiments, the application of science to the common purposes of life’. Momentum was maintained throughout the spring with the purchase of 21 Albermarle Street for £4,850 to be the Institution’s headquarters, and on 4 May the publication of full details of the Institution. With the draft charter written, on 22 June Banks resigned the chair upon the election of the earl of Winchelsea as the first president. Through his and Banks’s good offices with the king, the Institution swiftly received its Royal Charter on 31 January 1800. In 1801 and at the instigation of Rumford (who returned to Bavaria that year leaving Banks, feeling mildly abandoned, to oversee the direction of the new Institution) the services of Humphry Davy (1778–1829) were engaged as assistant lecturer in chemistry, director of the Chemical Laboratory, and assistant editor of the journals of the Institution at an annual salary of 100 guineas plus accommodation. The twentytwo-year-old chemist and inventor, who had made his name with his discovery of the physiological action of nitrous oxide or laughing gas and of five new elements, was an engaging and popular public speaker who researched science and disseminated knowledge in exactly the way Banks and Rumford hoped the Institution would. A year later Davy was appointed the Institution’s professor of chemistry: an example of his research there, and of the overlapping spheres of Banks’s interests and network, was his work on an alternative to tanner’s bark for the leather-curing industry. The possible substitute under investigation was terra Japonica or catechu, an extract from the kher tree (Senegalia catechu), which Banks had acquired from India through his contacts at the HEIC and his membership of the Board of Trade. In a similar vein, when appointed to the Institution’s Committee of Science in 1803 – one of its roles was to regulate the programme of lectures and public experiments – Banks arranged for Davy to repeat his lecture course on the chemistry of agriculture first given to the Board of Agriculture. And it would be Banks as president of the Royal Society who on 30 October 1815 would write from Revesby with congratulations to Davy on the invention of his mining safety lamp, promising that his paper on the subject would be read before the Royal Society as soon as he returned, which on 2 November it duly was.72 305

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Sadly though there was to be a parting of the ways between Banks and the Institution. He believed its activities should advance, promote and disseminate useful scientific knowledge but disillusionment set in when he realised (as did Rumford) that other managers favoured fashionable popularity. Davy’s lecture course finished on 10 June and Banks attended the managers’ meeting immediately following, but for the penultimate time, even though his term had two more years to run. A year later, on 6 June 1804, he disconsolately wrote to Rumford, now in Paris (that year he wed Marie-Anne, the widow of the chemist Antoine Lavoisier, who had been executed on 8 May 1794): the Institution has irrevocably fallen into the hands of the enemy, and is now perverted to a hundred uses for which you and I never intended it. I could have successfully resisted their innovations had you been there, but alone, unsupported, and this year confined to my house for three months by disease [gout], my spirit was too much broken to admit of my engaging singly with the host of H[ippesley]’s and B[ernard]’s who had possession of the fortress [The two men had been treasurers in 1800 and 1799 respectively]. Adieu, then, Institution: I have long ago declared my intention of attending no more.73

What the ‘enemy’ was doing that Banks objected to so strongly was, in his view, dramatising and introducing lecture programmes on non-scientific, nonuseful subjects (for example, art, history, literature and music) in an attempt to draw in larger audiences and thus improve the Institution’s precarious finances. Though thoroughly dispirited with the Institution by the time he wrote to Rumford, Banks, ever-energetic, had already that year co-founded yet another society. THE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY OF LONDON

The detailed instructions issued by Banks to Kew’s plant hunters and travelling gardeners included garnering all available knowledge of the principles and practices of horticulture from foreign parts. However, it was John Wedgwood 306

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER (1766–1844) of the famous pottery family who was the progenitor of the Society for the Improvement of Horticulture (what was founded as the Horticultural Society of London and became the Royal Horticultural Society by Royal Charter in 1861). On 29 June 1801 Wedgwood wrote to William Forsyth (1737–1804), the royal gardener at Kensington Palace, informing him that he was turning his ‘attention to the formation of a Horticultural Society’ and further requesting that should Forsyth ‘see Sir Joseph Banks, will you be so good as to ask him his opinion of the plan, and learn how far we might have a chance of having his patronage of the scheme’. Banks was duly sounded out, and seeing no conflict with the Royal Society gave the project his blessing, replying that he ‘approve[d] very much the idea’. Thus encouraged, Wedgwood proceeded with his plans ‘to form a society for the sole purpose of encouraging Horticulture in its different branches, to form a repository for all the knowledge which can be collected on this subject and give a stimulus to the exertions of individuals for its farther improvement’.74 The founding meeting, held in Hatchard’s Bookshop, Piccadilly on 7 March 1804, was attended by Banks, Forsyth, Wedgwood, W.T. Aiton, James Dickson, Banks’s old friend and travelling companion Charles Greville, and the amateur botanist Richard Anthony Salisbury. True to form, Banks moulded the emergent society to his agenda. Just under a year later on 5 March 1805 a second meeting was held at 32 Soho Square, from which emerged a committee of seven with Banks as chairman ‘for the purpose of preparing a Prospectus declaratory of the intentions of this Society’.75 Banks was keen to secure for the new society the efforts of the late eighteenthcentury’s most pioneering horticultural experimenter, Thomas Andrew Knight (1759–1838). Knight was investigating plant physiology and plant breeding – he studied variation in peas too, but did not make the leap of intuition that Mendel was later to do. As a hybridiser he also earned a well-deserved reputation for creating many new and successful fruit cultivars, particularly of apple, cherry, currant, grape, plum and strawberry. However, in 1789 Knight had been involved in an acrimonious controversy with William Forsyth over a ‘plaister’ Forsyth had invented for healing tree wounds (it was composed of cow dung, lime, wood 307

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS ashes and sand), the questionable efficacy of which Knight had scathingly attacked.76 Banks had remained on friendly terms with both men and proved to be an enthusiastic mentor to Knight, whom he introduced to Humphry Davy in 1803. Davy’s research into soil chemistry interested the horticulturist and the two men not only became friends (sharing fishing holidays) but also developed a working relationship that in 1813 manifested in Davy’s Elements of Agricultural Chemistry, in which he referenced Knight’s research. With Forsyth’s death on 25 July 1804, less than five months after the founding meeting, Banks had brought his protégé into the fold, writing to inform Knight that ‘I have taken the liberty of naming you an original member’ to which Knight assented ‘provided the members of it possessed a sufficient stock of scepticism to guard them from imposition’.77 At a third committee meeting on 7 March 1805 Knight was asked to write the Society’s prospectus, and thus from its infancy the Society came to focus on and support the fields of research that Banks thought proper and which Knight was pursuing on his country estate (Elton Hall and from 1808 Downton Castle), and Banks at Spring Grove. The prospectus was read by Banks before the General Meeting of the Society on 2 April 1805, and although the credit is Knight’s78 the ‘Introductory remarks relative to the objects which the Horticultural Society have in view’ have a truly Banksian ring: ‘Almost every ameliorated variety of fruit appears to have been the offspring of accident, or of culture applied to other purposes. We may therefore infer, with little danger of error, that an ample and unexplored field for future discovery and improvement lies before us, in which nature does not appear to have formed any limits to the success of our labours, if properly applied.’79 Knight was to prove a driving force during the first five years of the Horticultural Society with nineteen papers presented and published in the Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (hereafter Transactions). However, his first paper had been published in the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions in 1795, two years before his influential Treatise on the Culture of the Apple and Pear and on the Manufacture of Cider and Perry. In all Knight had nine papers printed in the Philosophical Transactions covering a wide range of botanical and horticultural topics including the structure of seeds, the movement of sap, 308

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER cross-pollination and grafting. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1805 and a year later was awarded the Copley Medal ‘for his various Papers on Vegetation, printed in the Philosophical Transactions’. In 1811 Knight was elected president of the Horticultural Society (remaining in the chair until 1838) with Banks as vice-president, a role which ensured his consultation on matters of importance but did not require his presence at meetings. Grateful for all Banks’s support down the years, Knight named one of his new apple cultivars ‘Spring Grove Codlin’ and Banks gave ‘a Short Account’ of the ‘new Apple’; read before the Society on 3 April 1810 it appeared in the Transactions for 1812.80 (Once thought lost to cultivation, it was rediscovered in 2004 and is both a good eater and cooking apple.) In 1812 Knight named a new peach cultivar ‘Spring Grove,’ and when exhibited at a meeting of the Horticultural Society in 1822 The Gardener’s Magazine reported it was also called the Persian peach because it had been raised at Spring Grove from a stone received from Persia by Banks’s gardener Isaac Oldaker. THE HORTICULTURAL RESEARCHER

Banks, it will be recalled, authored not a single paper for the Philosophical Transactions but he was an obscured contributor. Not only was Banks closely associated with at least 243 papers published in his lifetime,81 but Banks and Knight also conducted an extensive correspondence that ran to an accumulated 100,000 words, 80 percent of which was published before Banks’s death in twenty-two papers: this corresponds to 2.3 per cent of the total periodical content published during Banks’s presidency.82 It is also often with some justification claimed that Banks was not an investigative botanist, and certainly not a pioneering research scientist as were members of his peer group: Matthew Baillie, Henry Cavendish, Erasmus Darwin, Carl Friedrich Gauss, William Herschel, Edward Jenner, Antoine Lavoisier and Joseph Priestley, to name a few. Yet Banks did experiment and in many ways his garden at Spring Grove was a private horticultural research station. Sadly there are few contemporary garden descriptions and none of them detailed – at this time the horticultural press had yet to emerge83. What is known 309

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS is that, inspired in part by the private botanical collections of Dr John Fothergill at Upton Park and Dr William Pitcairn at Islington, Banks developed a collection of botanical rarities – his own mini-Kew. There was also a productive garden which supplied the family kitchen at 32 Soho Square and where Banks carried out his trials and experiments. A range of glasshouses and stoves including a Malta orangery and pine, peach and grape houses lined the south-facing wall of the kitchen garden; among the vegetables cultivated were asparagus (not so good for his gout), beans, Brussels sprouts (Banks must have been one of the very early cultivators), cabbage, kale, lettuce, mushrooms, peas and many different potato cultivars. Of fruits, dwarf apricots, blueberries, cherries and pineapples were grown, there was a melon ground and a half-acre gooseberry garden.84 Banks published the results of his research in twelve often-overlooked articles in the Transactions.85 Collectively they reveal him as an obscured researcher who contributed insights into the subjects of plant and garden history, glasshouse design and heating, plant breeding and epidemiology. Read on 7 May 1805 and appearing in the Transactions for 1812, ‘An attempt to ascertain the time when the potatoe (Solanum tuberosum) was first introduced into the United Kingdom’ was a historiographic investigation86 while ‘On the forcing-houses of the Romans’,87 read on 4 April 1809, was a transdisciplinary piece that drew on Daniel Lyson’s excavations in Gloucestershire for evidence of Roman heating techniques as well Banks’s antiquarian interest in archaeology and horticulture, providing too ‘a list of fruits cultivated by them, now in our gardens’. Looking to the future, Banks presciently predicted the larger, steam- and hot-water-heated greenhouses that became reality from the 1840s onwards. Moreover for his pinery he experimented with an ‘above ground all round’ flue that anticipated such piped heating systems. One avenue of research that Banks pursued with vigour but less success was his belief that over successive generations plants could adapt to a climate different from their native one. He experimented with various taxa including New Zealand flax (Phormium tenax), a Chinese Magnolia called Yulan (M. denudata), turnips from Bhutan, wheat from Bihar and Canadian wild rice (Zizania aquatica). The results, read on 3 December 1805, appeared in ‘Some hints respecting the proper mode of inuring tender plants to our climate’ in the Transactions of 1812,88 and 310

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER inspired others to continue experimenting in this field well into the nineteenth century. Perhaps associated with this research was his employment of Isaac Oldaker, previously a gardener to Tsar Alexander I at Saint Petersburg, Russia where winter temperatures were much lower than at Middlesex. What, if any, knowledge on plant acclimatisation Oldaker imparted is unknown, but he did design for Banks a mushroom house along Russian principles. Oldaker’s paper on the subject was read on 4 March 1817 and published together with a plan of the mushroom house at Spring Grove in the Transactions of 1817.89 The plan was widely copied with mushroom houses erected across the country and in 1870 the noted garden writer William Robinson observed that the Oldaker/Banks house was the genesis of successful mushroom growing in Britain.90 Another edible that Banks pioneered was the cranberry, which was not cultivated on a commercial scale in its native America until the 1840s.91 And although not responsible for introducing the plant into Britain, Banks seems to have been the first to have grown it for fruit, which became ‘an object of some importance in the economy of the family’.92 Banks may also be acknowledged as a pioneer in two further important horticultural sciences. With his last paper, ‘Notes relative to the first appearance of Aphis Lanigera, or the apple tree insect, in this county’, read on 4 April 1815 and published, with an illustrative plate, in the Transactions of 1817,93 that of epidemiology; and with his privately published 1805 paper Short account of the cause of the disease in corn . . . (see above, p. 286), of plant pathology. One last example of Banksian horticultural innovation appeared in the 1817 Botanical Register report on ‘Sir Joseph Banks’s Aerides’ (Cleisostoma paniculatum) which made reference to his invention of the orchid basket as a means of cultivating epiphytic orchids.94 The next generation of pioneering horticulturists, among whose luminaries were George Bentham, John Lindley (who succeeded Dryander as Banks’s assistant librarian for the last eighteen months of Banks’s life) and John Claudius Loudon, contributed to and witnessed remarkable advances in all aspects of nineteenthcentury horticulture. It was this generation that systematised horticultural knowledge and widely disseminated it through a range of periodicals and monographs published for the professional/informed amateur readership. 311

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Regretfully – and somewhat arrogantly – the previous generation and their work were regarded in the most part as generally ignorant and unenlightened. But the great flowering of all things horticultural which this group nurtured and matured would have been as seed cast on barren soil had it not been for the fertile loam carefully prepared by pioneers such as Banks and Knight. THE ANTIQUARIAN

Banks held a life-long interest in all things antiquarian. It will be remembered that as a young man he conducted an archaeological excavation of a barrow grave in Wales while staying with his uncle Robert in 1767 (see above, p. 34) and again at Orkney returning from his Iceland expedition in 1772 (see above, p. 169). Moreover, during his Endeavour expedition and at Iceland he made ethnographic collections of ‘curiosities’ together with written and visual anthropological observations of the peoples and cultures encountered. But it is fair to say that while engaging him, his antiquarian interests were more a hobby than a topic of serious study. But he was also a social animal who enjoyed relaxing in company of like-minded men, an ‘ardent clubbist’,95 and certain of the many clubs he patronised had a leisure element in the true spirit of otium (often involving dinner held at a tavern). One such outlet for his antiquarian interests was the Society of Dilettanti, to which he was elected on 1 February 1774 with James ‘Athenian’ Stuart standing his sponsor. Here he joined Constantine Phipps and Lord Sandwich who, as well as long-established personal friends and colleagues, were also Fellows of the Royal Society. As was Sir Joshua Reynolds who also shared with Banks membership of both Society of Dilettanti and the Literary Club (see below, p. 314). With its membership drawn primarily from the landowning aristocracy who met for dinner on alternate Sundays at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall, the Society of Dilettanti had been founded in 1734 by a group of ‘young men of rank and fashion’ who had enjoyed a Grand Tour and ‘desirous of encouraging at home a taste for those objects which had contributed to their entertainment abroad, formed themselves into a society under the name of the Dilettanti’. 312

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER In the 1740s it evolved from a convivial dining club to a patron of culture (for example, sponsoring the earl of Middlesex’s opera for the 1744 season) and broadened the base of its activities from the promotion of artistic taste to incorporate the study of classical, and in particular, Greek antiquity. In 1761 the idea of establishing a public sculpture gallery was mooted – a space to show the ‘best Statues, Bustsos & Bass-relievos & that may be now in Great-Britain & Ireland’ – but nothing came of it. Instead, for the next two decades the lion’s share of the Society’s funds went to sponsor expeditions and publishing projects (and beginning in 1775 scholarships to Royal Academy students to study in Italy and Greece). One such outcome was the 1764 archaeological expedition conducted by Richard Chandler, William Pars and Nicholas Revett, which in turn resulted in Chandler’s Travels in Greece (1776) and Ionian Antiquities (1769), both of which had a substantial influence on British neoclassicism. Incidentally the collection of classical marbles brought back by the team, including two fragments from the north frieze of the Parthenon, were housed at 32 Soho Square for a while in the 1780s. Neither noble nor a grand tourist, Banks might appear to have been an ill fit for the Society, but he was proud of his membership and in January 1777 sat for one of two group portraits by Reynolds entitled ‘The Society of Dilettanti’ (1777–79). He is shown, still looking quite slim in the face, on the far left of the group which comprises Lords Camarthen, Dundas, Mulgrave and Seaforth, John Charles Crowle and Charles Greville; Banks’s share of Reynolds’s fee was £36 15s (Plate 33). He was also an active participant in the Society, and in 1778 was elected very high steward (treasurer and secretary combined), an office which he held with ‘much satisfaction and advantage’ for sixteen years.96 He attempted to resuscitate the Society’s museum ambitions to no avail and perhaps unwisely supplied Richard Payne Knight – today best remembered for his theories of picturesque beauty and his interest in ancient phallic imagery – with a letter from Sir William Hamilton, then in Naples, describing his finds concerning the Neapolitan cult of the worship of Priapus. This epistle Knight included in another Society-funded book, An Account of the Remains of the Worship of Priapus (1786). 313

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS In fact the Dilettanti was the second learned antiquarian society that welcomed Banks as a member. The first had been the Society of Antiquaries of London, to which he had been elected Fellow on 27 February 1766. Subsequently he sat on its council from 1785 to 1787 and again from 1813 to 1820, and there is a better record of his doings in the Society’s journal Archaeologia than the Royal Society’s Philosophical Transactions: the former published seven papers from Banks between 1789 and 1821. Indeed, for the last two decades of his life, as his involvement with government declined, Banks placed more focus on his interest in antiquities as a hobby, and from around 1808 continued an extensive correspondence with the antiquary Francis Douce (1757–1834) on such abstruse topics as the etymology of arcane words. In these last two decades too, Banks was called on extensively by the Board of Trustees of the British Museum. He had been granted his first reader’s ticket on 3 August 1764 and in 1778 he became a member of the Board, remaining so for the same duration that he was also president of the Royal Society. He proffered advice on a wide range of subjects including policy and collection management. This included the 1817 donation by William Burchell (1761–1863) of natural objects collected during his South Africa expedition (1811–15). In many ways Banks saw the museum’s collections as an extension of the Royal Society – a resource to be expanded and used by serious scientists. As such he encouraged the acquisitions policy but was vociferous in his objections against public admission (lest the hoi polloi disturb the studious). THE CLUB

Banks became a Freemason some time before 1769 and was a member of both Old Horne Lodge No.4 and Witham Lodge No. 297. Yet the most social and exclusive club to admit Banks was the Literary Club or ‘The Club’, founded in 1764 by the artist Sir Joshua Reynolds, the writer Dr Samuel Johnson and the Irish philosopher-politician Edmund Burke with an initial membership of just nine. According to Thomas Percy, elected when membership was expanded to twelve, Johnson’s intention was that: ‘The Club should consist of Such men, as that if only Two of them chanced to meet, they should be able to entertain each 314

THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER other without wanting the addition of more Company to pass the Evening agreeably.’97 Thus the gatherings were a forum for invigorating discussion and open displays of wit enjoyed within a convivial atmosphere of food and drink, and with the famous poet, playwright, essayist, moralist, literary critic, biographer, editor and lexicographer Dr Johnson at the centre of it all (Plate 40). The Club was only twenty-six-strong when on 11 December in 1778 Reynolds informed Banks that his admission had been granted. This club had nothing at all to do with Banks’s professional work or his hobbies, it was purely for pleasure, and his membership perhaps calls into question the comments of John Byng and Joseph Farington (see above p. 231) who proclaimed Banks as somewhat uncouth, illmannered and graceless. Had he been he would not have been considered, let alone accepted by such exalted company for whom cordial, amusing and entertaining confabulation was a pre-requisite. Banks’s membership of The Club suggests he was recognised for his good and diverting company, albeit perhaps within a particular coterie. In the early years meetings were held weekly at seven o’clock on Tuesday evenings, but in 1772 the day was changed to Friday and about that time to every fortnight during the sitting of Parliament. The location until 1783 was the Turk’s Head in Gerrard Street, Soho and afterwards in various other taverns. Banks was a regular attendee and when Johnson died on 13 December 1784 he acted as pallbearer to his friend who was interred in Poet’s Corner at Westminster Abbey. The Club agreed that a memorial should be erected to the great man and a committee formed to decide what form it should take. Years passed and nothing happened, until on 5 January 1790 a special committee was elected to progress the matter. Members included Banks and Reynolds and debate centred around whether the monument should be with the grave in Westminster Abbey (Banks’s choice) or, because of a recent change in the rules that now allowed such monuments, in St Paul’s Cathedral (Reynolds’s choice). On 15 April 1791 the president of the Royal Society lost the vote to the president of the Royal Academy of Arts (six to three), and Banks withdrew from the committee. Placed there in 1796, John Bacon’s statue of Johnson stands at the entrance of the cathedral’s 315

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS north quire aisle, and Banks, rarely one to hold a grudge, continued to enjoy the conviviality of The Club. THE CLUBBIST

While resident in London, Banks’s calendar was busy with meetings of the many and varied learned societies and social clubs which he actively joined and of which he was a proactive member. That he was so heavily involved and gave so much of his precious time reveals the importance that Banks attached to them and their activities; and it was exactly because he understood just how effective clubs and societies could be as mechanisms for conducting specific activities, disseminating results and aiding progress that he was a formative founding member of several significant new ones. At a personal level, regular gatherings of like-minded men gave Banks a form of convivial, companionable recreation that he enjoyed and excelled at. Simultaneously, the stimulating environment of meetings and discussions, where ideas were born and exchanged, nourished his ever-curious and engaged mind. Indeed, it was in large part through his club activities that Banks developed the wider-ranging and often deep knowledge that enabled him to hold discourse with, and be respected by, so many expert and influential individuals. This knowledge, in combination with his memberships and personality enabled Banks to develop, nurture and expand a huge network of personal friendships and/or professional associates; and it was by means of his perspicacious orchestration of this network of royalty, nobles, politicians, civil servants, naval and military personnel, businessmen, scientists, farmers, engineers, skilled craftsmen, etc., that Banks was able to influence policy on a national, colonial and international level. In summary, Banks joined clubs and societies for personal enjoyment and improvement, but simultaneously he recognised them as interconnected sources of expertise. By means of orchestrating them and their members he utilised them as important vehicles for furthering his twin aims of advancement and improvement.

316

NINE 

The Last Two Decades

On 1 January 1800 Banks was six weeks shy of his fifty-seventh birthday with twenty more years of life ahead of him, and he was busy with commitments to many different but often concurrent and overlapping endeavours. Indeed, his last two decades were full, although his work was conducted at not quite such a frenetic pace as in the preceding third of a century. For not only was Banks getting older but he also suffered the incapacities and endured the torments of chronic gout. The first attacks had occurred in November 1787 with the second a year later in November 1788, with the incidents over the coming years becoming more incapacitating. However, from 1800 onwards, the attacks left Banks a bedridden or homebound invalid for an average of seven months a year, and for as many as eleven months in 1812. Gout variously affected his feet, ankles, knees, legs, hands, arms and in his words (written to an unidentified friend in May 1814) his ‘loins’, all of which caused him ‘Exquisite Pain’.1 In remedy Banks tried horseriding and an austere alcohol-free vegetarian diet, and from February 1810 found some succour from a French preparation of a Dr Husson called eau médecinale. This he first tried at the persuasion of Lord Spencer; subsequently both Banks and his initially very sceptical personal doctor Sir Everard Home were to conclude that the active ingredient in the palliative was an extract of autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale) – when French supplies dried up because of war, a home-made concoction – vinum colchici – containing crocus root proved equally efficacious. Nevertheless, from 1810 onwards Banks was 317

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS chair-bound and from 1813 forced to bandage his legs because of extensive oedematous swelling. Quite understandably his affliction affected Banks’s mood, rendering him on occasions short of temper, listless and slow. However, blessed with a formidable constitution and determined strong will, Banks dug deep and kept himself mentally energetic and engaged. To look at the man portrayed by Thomas Phillips (the portrait was begun in 1807 and completed in 1809) one would not know anything was awry with the authoritative, albeit perhaps a little tiredlooking, grey-wigged gentleman who gazes calmly but penetratingly back at the viewer (Plate 41). Commissioned by Banks’s good friend, the astronomer José de Mendoza y Ríos (the Spaniard’s 1801 paper ‘On an improved Reflecting Circle’ lies on the table), Phillip depicted Banks presiding in the chair at the Royal Society wearing a waistcoat embroidered with flowers and his decorations bestowed by a grateful king – the star of the Bath and the red ribbon. In his right hand he holds Humphry Davy’s 1807 Bakerian Lecture, and thus neatly celebrates astronomy, botany and electrical chemistry while indicating that he, science and the Royal Society had the king’s approval and support. As this short iconographical summary demonstrates, Banks was very careful about how he was presented in portraits for which he sat and engravings made thereof; and perhaps another story of this painting – that shows no sign of Banks’s gout – is a contradiction of his own a year before his death that ‘I do not feel as if Vanity was a Prominent tree in my character’.2 CONTINUING LONG-ESTABLISHED COMMITMENTS

Throughout the period in question Banks had a perennial set of established commitments to which he routinely attended. There was of course the management of his estates and land interests, as well as the overall management of the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew and, in the rooms behind 32 Soho Square, his scientific and engraving teams to be overseen. Here too he conducted much of his own research into multifarious subjects and wrote various papers, welcomed scientists to his private research institute and conducted an extensive, international correspondence. When his hands and arms were swollen and 318

THE LAST TWO DECADES painful and he found it hard to write, his handwriting deteriorated and the volume and the length of his letters declined, and on occasion he was obliged to dictate to his ever-faithful assistant, Robert Brown. The acquisition of the herbarium of Jean François Berger (1779–1833) was Banks’s last purchased addition to his own, and was made in 1814 when the Swiss botanist and geologist returned to his native Switzerland after seven years of exile in Britain. As president of the Royal Society Banks chaired the weekly Thursdayevening meetings held during the ‘season’ from November to the end of June, although when especially incapacitated by gout he was forced to miss them. He carried out his presidential responsibilities – vetting prospective candidates for election, promoting science within government and discussing the Society’s work with the monarch, and after 1810, the prince regent. Ex officio, he participated at the Board of Longitude and oversaw the Royal Observatory and its activities. And he remained a committed privy councillor, although over the years his close association with the government waned. In his last major single contribution he drafted a 5,000-word paper in 1807 on the subject of new coinage, but he remained a dedicated reformer of the Royal Mint for the coming decade (see above, p. 293). By 1800 and in many manifest ways Banks had provided twelve years of stalwart support to the new penal settlement at New South Wales. In the new century Banks continued to guard the interests of the colony which had been established primarily at his instigation. By working hard, mainly through the Privy Council and with successive secretaries of the Department of War and the Colonies, Banks fulfilled a vital role as advisory, logistical and material provider. He was, too, involved with various societies and organisations with which he had had close associations over many years. For example, in the years of the new century until 1805 Banks served as treasurer of the African Association, during which time he additionally helped plan the expedition undertaken by the Association’s explorer Henry Nicholls (see above, p. 302); with the Home Office and Board of Trade the arrangements for Mungo Park’s expedition (see above, p. 301); and advised on policy for the possible colonisation of West Africa (see above, p. 301). At the same time Banks was heavily involved in his personally 319

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS appointed role as protector of Iceland and its people, and until 1808 worked tirelessly through the offices of – among others – the Admiralty, the Department of War and the Colonies and the Privy Council to secure their welfare and alleviate the privations resulting from Royal Navy actions against Danish shipping (see above, p. 170). NEW PUBLICATIONS

In addition to his long list of ‘regular’ commitments there were numerous additional projects, on all of which he expended considerable time and energy. On his estates there was the financial ramifications of the decline of mining income in Derbyshire to be resolved (see above, p. 288); agricultural improvements at Revesby to be planned, instigated and overseen, in particular fen drainage and land reclamation (see above, p. 287); and experimental work breeding cattle and sheep conducted both in Lincolnshire and at Spring Grove. In the garden of Spring Grove Banks additionally conducted horticultural trials and experiments, the results of which together with his garden history research were reported in his twelve papers to the Transactions of the Horticultural Society in the 1810s. In the early summer of 1800 he privately published, with the king’s approval, the pamphlet A Project for extending the breed of fine-wooled Spanish sheep, now in the possession of His Majesty, into all parts of Great Britain, where the growth of fine clothing wools is found to be profitable. Widely republished and translated over the coming years, it was followed in 1803 and 1804 by reports on ‘the State of His Majesty’s Flock of Fine Wooled Spanish Sheep’. Banks was to oversee the royal flock until 1807 and worked tirelessly over many years to introduce Merinos into the national flock (see above, p. 253). In January 1801 he published both his Remarks Concerning Iceland (see above, p. 170) and his detailed advisory for Matthew Flinders’s forthcoming third voyage, the preparations for which he had been involved with for the previous three years: co-ordinating the efforts of the Admiralty, the Home Office, the Royal Society and Kew, and securing a scientific team in the Investigator which included Robert Brown and Ferdinand Bauer (see above, p. 246). In 1803, Banks set in motion the preparation of the second edition of Hortus Kewensis (see above, p. 207), in the process of which 320

THE LAST TWO DECADES W.T. Aiton was ably assisted by Jonas Dryander. The first of three volumes was published in 1810 and the third in 1818. In 1805 Banks published his paper hypothesising a link between wheat rust and barberry (see above, p. 286) and beginning late that year or early in 1806 Banks and his team at Soho Square began working hard aiding the recently returned Brown and Bauer with preparing the scientific and published outcomes of their exploration of Australia: botanical classification and description, and the preparation of plates that would result in eventual publication of their respective books: Prodromus Florae Novae Hollandiae et Insulae Van Diemen (1810) and Illustrationes Florae Novae Hollandiae (1813). And that summer of 1806 Banks produced three papers pertaining to the colony: ‘Some Remarks on the Present State of the Colony of Sidney . . .’ in June (see above, p. 249); ‘Some Observations on a Bill for admitting the produce of New South Wales to entry at the Customs-house of the United Kingdom’ in July (see above, p. 250); and ‘Observations of Sheep in New South Wales’ in August. That same August he also drafted an advisory to the Court of Directors of the HEIC, presenting considerations for the management of its botanic garden at Calcutta in which and in the strongest terms he advocated for its continued management under William Roxburgh and that the Company make proper provisions for him and his son. Approval to publish Flinders’s Voyage to Terra Australis was received from the Admiralty in January 1811, and Banks and his team at Soho Square began work on the volume, which appeared in July 1814. And a last publishing project for which Banks was a driving force and which he brought to the busy rear premises at Soho Square was supervising the production of the third volume of Roxburgh’s Plants from the Coast of Coromandel, published in 1818, four years after Roxburgh himself had died. FOR LADY BANKS

In light of visits to Windsor Castle and Blenheim Palace with his wife Dorothea to view collections of porcelain in the summer of 1803, four years later Banks composed a personal essay for his wife entitled ‘Collections on the Subject of Old China and Japan Wares with some Remarks on these interesting Manufacturers made in Lady Banks’s Dairy at Spring Grove 1807’. Written 321

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS partly in the hope that ‘English ceramic manufacturers . . . might improve their ware after consulting the information about Chinese production methods’ this was a significant piece of research: ‘as both a catalogue of a collection and a history of production’ the manuscript is ‘perhaps the earliest of its kind’.3 Banks was more comfortable with dry, scientific penmanship than poetic composition, but one touching exception was the verse which he dedicated to his wife. The fourth and final verse of his ‘Sonnet adresd to Lady Banks’ is particularly affectionate, and reveals Banks as a devoted and loving husband: Take from his hands this Little Quire Written by him at thy desire ’Twill serve at Least to Prove A husbands wish his wife to Please Abates not as the years increase if it began in Love . . .4 BOTANY REMAINS A PASSION

In the culmination of two years planning the plant hunter William Kerr departed for China in 1803 (see above, p. 203) and six years later Banks personally arranged and paid for William Hooker’s botanical expedition to Iceland. That autumn of 1809, in the aftermath of a hurricane which blew down 103 mature oak trees on the Revesby estate, he wrote to Thomas Andrew Knight describing the technique he had been using for over thirty years for transplanting mature trees, and which he intended to use for re-erecting fifty of the fallen oaks (a year later during the great storm of 10 November 1810, 395 trees were blown down).5 The next year saw Banks conduct his last botanical discussions with the king, and before His Majesty’s mental faculties became impaired by illness Banks persuaded him to establish a new Botanic Garden at Peradeniya at Ceylon (where Kerr would be appointed Superintendent in 1814, see p. 204 above). With George III now incapable of discharging his duties as monarch, a Regency Act, the Care of King During his Illness, etc. Act 1811, was passed. No doubt it was with sadness that Banks lost contact with the king, but he continued to be an energetic and effective 322

THE LAST TWO DECADES unofficial director of and guardian to Kew, as well as providing guidance and counsel on botanical and staffing matters to various colonial botanic gardens. Later that year, and with the blessing of the prince regent, Banks was at work again for Kew issuing instructions and arranging the departure of two Kew plant hunters, James Bowie and Allan Cunningham both first to Brazil and subsequently South Africa and Australia, respectively (see above, pp. 205, 251). And after the establishment of the new botanic garden at Ceylon, William Hooker had volunteered to visit the island in 1810. In spite of much work by Banks, nothing had come of the plan, and so in 1813 he persuaded Hooker to undertake a botanical expedition for Kew, this time to Java, now a British possession. To Banks’s chagrin, however, Hooker’s concerned family poured cold water on the scheme. Remembering his own experience of pestilence-ridden Batavia, Banks may have had a modicum of understanding why, but nonetheless on 19 June he wrote to Hooker in a mildly reproachful tone: Let me hear from you how you feel inclined to prefer ease and indulgence to hardship and activity. I was about twenty-three when I began my peregrinations. You are somewhat older; but you may be assured that if I had listened to a multitude of choices that were raised to dissuade me from my enterprise, I should have been now a quiet country gentleman ignorant of a number of matters I am now acquainted with, and probably have attained no higher rank in life than that of country Justice of the Peace . . .6

Hooker however remained in Britain, and in the spring of 1820 took the regius chair of botany at Glasgow. He was knighted in recognition of his services to botany in 1836 and resigned the chair of botany in 1841 to become the first officially appointed director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew where his first job was to revivify the now state-run but moribund institution, and subsequently to oversee its expansion. Banks also maintained his royal botanical connections with Queen Charlotte, whom he first entertained at Spring Grove for the first time on 13 August 1813. On this occasion and because of inclement weather the pair were forced to 323

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS remain indoors, with the gout-afflicted Banks wheeled around in a chair. One topic of discussion was Banks’s current pet project, collating the 1585 and 1610 editions of Thomas Tusser’s Five hundred points of good Husbandry. The queen was to make occasional late summer and autumnal visits (sometimes accompanied variously by the Princesses Augusta, Elisabeth and Mary) to the villa over the next five years until her death on 17 November 1818. News of the queen’s passing came to Banks while he was still in deep mourning for the loss of his beloved sister Sarah Sophia. She died at the age of seventy-four on 17 September, a few weeks after she, Dorothea and Banks had been involved in a coach accident: on the evening of 25 August their drunken coachman had overturned their carriage, trapping the threesome in the wreckage for half an hour, an event which may have precipitated Sarah’s demise. Banks’s botanical swan-song was the considerable energy he invested in preparations for Amherst’s second embassy to China in 1816, hoping to improve on the disappointing botanical outcome of the Macartney embassy. He recruited and prepared the Kew gardener James Hooper, discussed with the HEIC Clarke Abel’s natural history role, and provided him with extensive guidance in correspondence dated 10 February, essentially an updated version of the ‘Hints on the Subject of Gardening’ which he had prepared for the first embassy. Frustratingly though for Banks the botanical outcome was to be almost as disappointing as the first (see above, p. 193). LAST VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY

In July 1815 Banks again offered himself as a scientific guinea pig, this time consuming part of a roast fillet of veal which had been hermetically sealed in a tinned iron vessel on 5 December 1812 by Bryan Donkin (1768–1855). In 1813 Donkin had established a canning factory – Donkin, Hall and Gamble – in Bermondsey, and an advertisement that ran in The Times of 15 August 1815 included an endorsement from Banks attesting to the quality of the veal and thus the canning process. From July that year and until its departure in February 1816, Banks was heavily involved with the planning of Tuckey’s tragic River Niger expedition (see above, p. 206). More positive and successful was his scientific 324

THE LAST TWO DECADES swan-song as an active advocate for and planner of voyages of exploration. In the spring of 1818 a Royal Navy arctic expedition sailed north to seek the Northwest Passage. It was the culmination of eleven years of correspondence and exchange between Banks and William Scoresby Junior (1789–1857), whom Banks had first met in late December 1807 soon after the eighteen-year-old had been discharged as a voluntary ordinary seaman following service conveying the captured Danish fleet from Copenhagen. As he subsequently explored the Arctic region and Greenland as a whaling captain, Scoresby became a faithful correspondent of and (when home) visitor to Banks, informing him about arctic natural history and scientific phenomena – in particular ice. Based on his assessment of the large quantity of data from Scoresby (who while on land also studied chemistry and natural philosophy at Edinburgh University), along with 1817 reports from whalers that the expected sea ice between Greenland and eastern Svalbard had disappeared, and with forty-four years passed since Phipps’s arctic expedition, on 29 November 1817 Banks wrote to the first lord of the Admiralty, Robert Dundas, second Viscount Melville (1771–1851) urging that ships be sent to endeavour to correct and amend the very defective geography of the Arctic Regions more especially on the side of America. To attempt the Circumnavigation of old Greenland, if an island, as there is reason to suppose. To prove the existence or non-existence of Baffin’s Bay; and to endeavour to ascertain the practicability of a Passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, along the Northern Coast of America. These are objects which may be considered as peculiarly interesting to Great Britain nor only from their proximity and the national advantages which they involve but also for the marked attention they called forth and the Discoveries made in consequence thereof in the very earliest periods of our foreign navigation . . .7

Banks’s proposal was well received and promptly acted upon, with the dispatch in April 1818 of two pairs of specially strengthened whalers: HMS Dorothea under the command of Captain David Buchan (1780–1838) and HMS 325

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS Trent under Lieutenant John Franklin (1786–1847) sailed north between the east coast of Greenland and Spitsbergen (Plate 43); while HMS Isabella under Captain John Ross (1777–1856) and the Alexander under Lieutenant William Edward Parry (1790–1855) headed through the Davis Strait along the west coast of Greenland to explore Baffin Bay and investigate any exit into the Bering Sea. A letter from the twenty-seven-year-old Parry written to his parents on 23 December 1817 paints a delightful verbal portrait of Banks, semi-crippled and seventy-four years old yet still abrim with excitement for adventure (albeit vicariously) and the pursuit of useful science; the generous grandee still eager to fire the next generation with enthusiasm: At ½ past 9 this morning, my Uncle called for me, and we went to Soho Square together. People who know Sir. J. walk into his library without asking any questions, and we were there about a quarter of an hour before ten, which is the breakfast hour. In the mean time, I was introduced to Mr. Brown, his librarian, who is a walking catalogue of every book in the world, and of whom I asked several questions. At ten precisely Lady & Mrs Banks [Sarah Sophia] made their appearances, to whom I was introduced in fonu, and without waiting for Sir J. (who was wheeled in, five minutes after) we sat down to breakfast. Sir J. shook hands with me very cordially, said he was glad to become acquainted with a Son of Dr. Parry’s, for whom he entertained the highest respect, and was glad to find I was nominated to serve on the Expedition to the North West. Having breakfasted, I wheeled Sir j. into an ante-room which adjoins the library, and without any previous remark, he opened a map which he had just constructed, and in which the situation is shewn, of that enormous mass of ice which has lately disappeared from the Eastern coast of Greenland . . . It is impossible, in the compass of a letter, to repeat to you half of what Sir Joseph Banks said to me upon the subject – much less, to give you any idea of his very affable, communicative manner; he desired that I would come to him as often as I pleased (the oftener the better) and read or take away any books I could find in his library that might be of service to me . . . Having obtained Carte blanche from Sir J. I shall of 326

THE LAST TWO DECADES course go to his library without any ceremony, whenever I have occasions: for his invitations are not those of fashionable life, but are given from a real desire to do every-thing which can in the smallest degree tend to the advancement of every branch of science . . .8

The ships were all safely returned by 21 November that year with sufficient accomplished for Parry to venture north again in 1819 with the Hecla accompanied by Matthew Liddon in the Griper (both ships were supplied with tinned meat by Donkin, Hall and Gamble). THE GREAT MAN BOWS OUT

One of the last tasks that occupied Banks was to bring his influence to bear in the matter of completing the Lincolshire County Ordnance Survey. Early in 1818 and acting on a request made the previous December by the lord lieutenant, John Cust, first Earl Brownlow (1779–1853), Banks gently pressured both Colonel William Mudge (1762–1820) as head of the Ordnance Trigonometrical Survey and Henry Phipps, first earl of Mulgrave (1755–1831) as master-general of the Ordnance (and younger brother of Banks’s long-standing friend Constantine Phipps, who had died in 1792). The eventual reply was positive, with the proviso that 500 subscribers be collected for the map at a cost of £4 14s 6d each. By late April surveyors were out in the fields (even though the subscription was not full) and proofs of the first accurate survey of his county were brought for Banks’s inspection at Spring Grove a couple of months before his death. Poignantly, it was another botanical link with the past that brought Banks to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew for the last time in 1819.9 Forty-four years previously, Kew’s first plant hunter Francis Masson (see above, p. 194) had brought from South Africa the palm-like cycad (Encephalartos altensteinii) to the garden, and now Banks wished to see the very first (and as of 2020, only)10 cone it bore. Today the plant continues to thrive in Kew’s Palm House (Plate 44) and has the honour of being the world’s oldest pot plant, providing too a direct, living link with Banks, who chaired his last Royal Society meeting on 16 March 1820. A few weeks later he tendered his resignation on grounds of failing health 327

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS but the Council voted unanimously that it ‘most cordially wishes that the President should not withdraw from the Chair of the Society, which he has filled so ably and so honourably during a period of forty-two years’.11 This was a kind and generous gesture and a gratified Banks retracted his resignation; nevertheless with hindsight an argument can be made that his four decades as president stymied the Society’s need for reform and initially left it ill-equipped to meet the challenges and changing circumstances of the nineteenth century. Sadly, Banks did not live to discover how successful Parry’s expedition had been, nor to learn that on 8 August 1820 Parry wrote in his journal ‘the Western most land yet discovered in the Polar Sea . . . was honoured with the name of Banks’s Land’.12 For, at about three o’clock in the morning of 19 June 1820, Banks died at Spring Grove. According to Sir James Edward Smith, who had had a last conversation with the ailing man a few days before, he was ‘quite easy about the event, which he knew could not be far distant, considering the state of his stomach’.13 At his own request Banks was buried in an unmarked grave in Heston churchyard. Various obituaries showed Banks in a generally good light, for example the notice in The Gentleman’s Magazine14 (a piece later in the year also mentioned that Banks had imported beavers to England, ‘where they are novelties’)15 and the ‘Biographical Memoir’ in The Philosophical Magazine of July 182016 (see below, p. 330). However, three months later the latter magazine made a volte-face and printed ‘A Review of some leading Points in the Official Character and Proceedings of the late President of the Royal Society’.17 This anonymous character assassination by ‘A Correspondent’ – in truth Olinthus Gregory (1774–1841), the mathematician who in 1807 had succeeded Charles Hutton in the chair at Woolwich – fired the starting gun for a negative, anti-Banks sentiment which saw his personal standing as a scientist and the value of his wider works posthumously undermined. The corrosion was continued by Banks’s protégé and successor as president of the Royal Society, Sir Humphry Davy. As he wrote in 1820: He was a good-humoured and liberal man, free and various in conversational power, a tolerable botanist and generally acquainted with natural history. He 328

THE LAST TWO DECADES had not much reading, and no profound information. He was always ready to promote the objects of men of science, but he required to be regarded as a patron and readily swallowed gross flattery. When he gave anecdotes of his voyages he was very entertaining and unaffected. A courtier in character, he was a warm friend to a good King. In his relations to the Royal Society he was too personal and made his circle too like a court . . .18

Davy’s words are disingenuous (Banks’s skill as a botanist was more than ‘tolerable’, and he was far more than ‘generally acquainted’ with natural history, for example) and he could be construed as being disloyal to the memory of a man to whom he owed a debt of gratitude. Nevertheless, Davy’s words were but a fingerpost along the path of an all but extirpation of Banks from the nineteenthcentury scientific narrative. With the radically shifting socio-economic, politicoscientific landscape, and as natural history crystallised into the specialised disciplines we recognise today, so the scientific fraternity began to look askance at Banks’s modus operandi. Active and influential within his time, Banks had achieved much and had laid many a foundation for science to build on. But instead of fair recognition he was cast as old-fashioned and benighted, nothing more than amateur dabbler and meddler, not worthy of attention; condescension exacerbated because he had no major scientific discovery on which to hang his reputation. A few writers who had know him personally remembered him kindly,19 but even the British Museum, to which Banks had generously bequeathed his great herbarium and library (valued in 1822 for insurance purposes at £14,000), did not warrant his papers worthy of saving for the nation. In 1884 it could not agree a price with Lord Brabourne, a descendant of Lady Banks, who sold the collection at auction in 1886 realising a measly £182 19s. And a decade later Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker felt no compunction when mangling and misrepresenting Banks with his truly awful editing of the first publishing of Banks’s Endeavour journal. The censure of Banks continued into the twentieth century, for example when Edward Smith’s biography appeared in 1911 certain reviewers roundly criticised his generally positive depiction of Banks. Indeed it was not until the 1960s that 329

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS both Banks and his works experienced the beginnings of a concerted rehabilitation within historico-scientific academe, a momentum that reassuringly continues. Intelligent and ever-curious to learn, the perennially energetic and dedicated Banks was a remarkable man, whose multifarious interests and achievements were as considerable as his charismatic, fair-minded, honourable and yet pragmatic personality was complex. As he was presented in the ‘Biographical Memoir’ which appeared in The Philosophical Magazine of July 1820: Sir Joseph in person was tall and manly, and his countenance expressive of dignity and intelligence. His manners were polite and urbane; his conversation rich in instructive information, frank, engaging, unaffected, and without levity, yet endowed with sufficient vivacity. His information was general and extensive. On most subjects, he exercised the discriminating and inventive powers of an original and vigorous mind; his knowledge was not that of facts merely, or of technical terms and complex abstractions alone, but of science in its elementary principles, and of nature in her happiest forms . . .20

Banks was not wasteful of his privileges and facilitated by his considerable independent wealth he developed over years of study a profound understanding of many subjects. With this knowledge he was generous, enthusiastically sharing it and using it to catalyse improvements; and while eschewing political office he was societally well-connected and canny enough to develop and use to good advantage his political contacts and many friendships, including that of the king. Not for personal advancement (except perhaps in the case of his baronetcy), but philanthropically, for what he saw as the improvement of his country, its economy and people, and the furtherment of science. And he was brave too: believing science was above war he knowingly risked and received ill-considered criticism for his international correspondence and links with foreign, and in particular, French scientists: There can have been few men who devoted so much of their time and person fortune to the service of their country with quite the same measure of 330

THE LAST TWO DECADES disinterested philanthropy and, on the whole, of beneficial common sense. Nor can royalty anywhere have enjoyed for so long such unselfish devotion from someone . . . with no [financial] drain . . . a friend who never exploited his place of favour in the Court either for himself or there, an attitude of integrity he kept unblemished whatever the doubts of a cynical world . . .21

A man of his time, some of Banks’s views and actions do not withstand informed twenty-first-century scrutiny. For example, certain of his opinions on colonial expansion and exploitation are now considered reprehensible and it is recognised that the impact of colonisation has had hugely detrimental effect on indigenous peoples, not least those of the South Sea Islands and the Ma¯ori, and Australian Aboriginals. Today, too, his agriculturally improving fen drainage schemes would be labelled wetland habitat destruction. While it is correct to recognise and articulate such criticisms of the man and his actions, he should not be judged by modern standards, but rather by the values of his time. When we do so, for the most part Banks must be acknowledged as a complex character who was, for example, compassionate yet controlling, enlightened yet exploitative, humane yet opportunistic and moral yet profligate. Indeed, it is the paradoxes of the man which make him such an interesting topic of study. It has been written of Banks that he ‘gave social and scientific prestige to natural history’;22 and when viewed with twenty-first-century hindsight, Banks is also a paradigm of the hypothesis that the advancement of science requires not only minds of genius to make breakthrough discoveries, but also those, like him, with the vision to recognise where advances would be advantageous, for example in trialling new wheat cultivars; those who can create the conducive environment for scientists to operate in, for example the Herschel siblings and Sir Humphry Davy; and those who can proselytise discoveries for the betterment of science and society in general, for example so many of the publications that Banks engineered. Banks’s greatest achievement was therefore the establishment of new methodologies for advancing science (and thus improvement) within his time, by means of devising, organising and conducting diverse vehicles of progress – including, notably, voyages of discovery, the establishment of new 331

THE MULTIFARIOUS MR BANKS institutions and the invigoration of existing ones, and partnerships with government; and by the application to them of high standards of knowledge, co-operation, organisation, management and dissemination. He was able to achieve so much exactly because he was of his time, and simultaneously very much his own man. And in several important instances the Banksian legacy continues to be strongly felt today. For example, the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew is the world’s foremost botanic garden; the Royal Society, Linnean Society and the Royal Horticultural Society (to name but three) are world-leaders; and carefully planned voyages of scientific discovery continue to be made. By knowing more about Banks and his work we come to a better understanding not only of the man and his time but also the diverse elements of global history, and in particular Australian and British history, which Banks helped forge and which shaped the world as we know it today. In conclusion, a telling story in his own words. When selecting his personal seal, Banks chose the lizard, saying: ‘I have taken the Lizard, an Animal said to be Endowed by nature with an instinctive Love of mankind, as my Device, & have causd it to be Engraved as my Seal, as a Perpetual Remembrance, that a man is never so well employd, as when he is Laboring for the advantage of the Public; without the Expectation, the hope or Even a wish to Derive advantage of any kind, from the Result of his Exertions.’23 A fitting epitaph for a great and remarkable man.

332

A Note on Banks’s Journals & Correspondence

Unfortunately for those who study Banks, all of his papers suffered a sad fate against the express wishes of his will. Upon his death in 1820 his library, herbarium and the lease of his house in Soho Square were left to his librarian and assistant Robert Brown (1773–1858), the noted botanist who is today better remembered for his description of Brownian motion, with the caveat that after Brown’s demise the library and herbarium were to pass to the state. Thankfully this came to pass and his herbarium is held in the Natural History Museum, London and his library is in the British Library, London.1 However, and unfortunately, in the 1880s a collateral descendant of Banks, E.H. Knatchbull-Hugessen, first Baron Brabourne, claimed and carried off the letters and journals. The collection was broken up into 207 lots and sold by auction at Sotheby’s on 14 April 1886, realising a paltry £182 19s. Banks’s papers are thus today frustratingly scattered among some fifty or so institutions the world over. The Newfoundland and Labrador journal was purchased for Mr S.W. Silver for the sum of 3 guineas and in 1905 Silver’s book collection (the York Gate Library) was bought by the Royal Geographical Society of South Australia; the manuscript now resides in their library in Adelaide. Banks’s descriptions of plants and animals (the McGill Manuscript) was another lot, and passed through various hands before being purchased by the McGill University, Quebec in 1939 where it is currently held in the Blacker-Wood Library. However, the journal is 333

A NOTE ON BANKS’S JOURNALS & CORRESPONDENCE readily available for study having been transcribed and accompanied by much detailed analysis by Dr Averil M. Lysaght in 1971. Banks’s Endeavour journal survives as two thick quarto volumes running to something in the order of 260,000 words and became Lot 176 at the Sotheby’s auction (inaccurately described in the catalogue as: ‘Banks’s (Sir Joseph) Journal of a Voyage to the Sandwich Islands and New Zealand, from March 1769 to July 1771, in the autograph of Banks’). Purchased for £7 2s 6d by the autographdealer John Waller, it was subsequently acquired by the member of Parliament John Henniker Heaton, who in 1894 ‘disposed of it to a gentleman in Sydney, N.S.W’. This gentleman was Alfred Lee. Lee subsequently deposited the volumes in the State Library of New South Wales, Sydney. They are available to view online. Five manuscript copies of Banks’s original survive.2 Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker edited the first publication of the journal, but this was in fact a copy of a copy. As he recalled, after inheriting Banks’s papers, Robert Brown intended to produce a biography of Banks but ‘Age and infirmities, however, interfered with his prosecution of this work, and at his suggestion the materials were transferred with the same object to my [Hooker’s] maternal grandfather, Dawson Turner, FRS, an eminent botanist and antiquarian, who had been a friend of Banks.3 Turner now intended to produce the biography and as well as the Endeavour journal received 27 volumes of Banks’s correspondence, and had the whole transcribed by his daughters in the mid-1830s. The transcriptions in 20 volumes, the Dawson Turner Copies (DTC) are held in the Library and Archive, Natural History Museum, London.4 Hooker, for his purposes, had a copy of the Dawson Turner transcript made. John Beaglehole, whose own edition of the journals was published in 1962, was justifiably scathing of Hooker’s editing: He was at a stage indeed when an eminent Victorian acted with vigour and entire lack of remorse. It is consequently difficult to forgive him for what he did. In his preface he remarks, ‘I have largely exercised my duties as editor in respect of curtailments’. He exercised his duties with red ink. These volumes are not a journal, they are a scene of carnage: a sort of battlefield, where 334

A NOTE ON BANKS’S JOURNALS & CORRESPONDENCE stricken battalions lie inanimate and bleeding, and mutilated captives, dragged from massacre, are forced beneath the triumphant general’s yoke. Whole paragraphs, whole pages are scored through: what was left, Hooker did not hesitate to rewrite [and] reduces a text of something like 260,000 words to about 175,000 . . . it had ceased to be Banks’s journal [but] remains an awful witness to a large conception of duty.5

The Iceland voyage journal is in two documents. ‘A journal of a voyage up Great Britain’s west coast and to Iceland’ being the larger part (ninety-six pages) with entries from 12 July until 6 September, and in an Appendix a copy of the passport. It details the Scottish component of the voyage (sixty pages) and breaks off soon after arrival at Iceland. This manuscript is held in the McGill University Library, Montreal (available online as a digitised copy). The shorter manuscript (nineteen pages) covering the dates 17 to 30 September and 16 to 22 October exists in the form of sporadic notes in a rough (but Banksian) hand and is held in the Kent History and Library Centre, Maidstone. The missing dates are dealt with in various notes and memoranda held in the Natural History Museum, London. Thus the only day for which there is not a record in Banks’s own hand is 16 October. In respect of Banks’s correspondence, one must be grateful that Dawson Turner transcribed what he received, but what was only a small part of the whole. What survived and what Brabourne sold is widely scattered.

335

A Note on Banks’s Date of Birth

Over the years there has been some confusion over Banks’s date of birth. The Gentleman’s Magazine announced the birth for 15 February 1743.1 However, an examination of the parish register of St James’s Church, Westminster (civil registration of births did not begin until 1837) reveals the date 2 February 1743. The disparity arises because Banks was born when Britain was still using the old Julian calendar (Old Style, O.S.), which would be replaced by the Gregorian calendar (New Style, N.S.) in September 1752, in order to align Britain with the rest of Europe. While the parish record-keeper was using the O.S., The Gentleman’s Magazine appears to have been an early adopter of the N.S. When the parish register’s O.S. date is converted to N.S. a 13 February 1743 birth date for Banks is the result. This date is given by Carter2 and confirmed by Beaglehole3 who discovered a copy made from the parish register dated 15 November 1753 (held in the Public Library, Dunedin, New Zealand) at the bottom of which in Banks’s hand is the note ‘Born Feb 13 1743’. It would appear therefore that The Gentleman’s Magazine made an error as did Brougham,4 who gave the date 2 February 1743, O.S. (perhaps a typographical error), a date repeated by Cameron.5

336

Endnotes

INTRODUCTION 1. Philibert Commerson, the naturalist with Louis-Antoine de Bougainville on the Frenchman’s scientific ‘circumnavigation’ (1763–69) only spent ten days at Tahiti. Nevertheless he was an astute observer and partly responsible for spreading the myth of Tahitians as the embodiment of the concept of the noble savage.

CHAPTER 1: THE BANKS FAMILY AND THE YOUNG JOSEPH 1. The Gentleman’s Magazine (1743), vol. 13, p. 106. 2. ‘Argyll Street Area’, in Survey of London: Volumes 31 and 32, St James Westminster, Part 2, ed. F.H.W. Sheppard (London, 1963), pp. 284–307. British History Online http://www.british-history. ac.uk/survey-london/vols31-2/pt2/pp284-307. 3. Perhaps drawn by the pedigree of its designer, subsequent tenants of No. 30 would include the noted nineteenth-century architects William Eden Nesfield and Richard Norman Shaw. 4. The Gentleman’s Magazine. Vol. XCIII, part 2, 1823. p. 12. 5. Lysaght (1971), p. 43. 6. O’Brian (1987), p. 20. 7. Chambers (2000), pp. 7–9. 8. Brougham (1847), p. 223. 9. O’Brian (1987), pp. 23–4. 10. See Cameron (1952), Appendix D. 11. O’Brian (1987), p. 25. 12. Brougham (1847), pp. 223–4. 13. Ibid., p. 224. 14. Nichols (1782), footnote, pp. 294–5. 15. Carter (1988), p. 330, see also pp. 323–330 for summary of family land holdings and estate income, 1702–90. 16. Ibid., p. 563. 17. O’Brian (1987), p. 29. 18. Ibid., p. 37. 19. Chambers (2000), pp. 77–80. 20. ‘Peter Pindar’ [John Wolcot], ‘Sir J. Banks and the Thieftakers’, Subjects for Painters (London, 1789), pp. 61–5. 21. Brougham (1847), p. 342.

337

NOTES to pp. 22–53 22. O’Brian (1987), p. 192. 23. Lysaght (1971), p. 235.

CHAPTER 2: NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR (1766) 1. Lysaght (1974), p. 93. 2. Lysaght (1971), pp. 236–7. 3. Ibid., p.144. 4. Ibid., p.151. 5. Ibid., pp. 276–7. 6. Carter (1988), p. 67. 7. Maiden (1909), p. 4. 8. Hasted (1797), p. 742. 9. The small quarto volume resides in the Cambridge University Library, Department of Manuscripts and University Archives; a transcript with notes and a preface by the antiquarian and previous owner Spencer George Perceval appeared in the Proceedings of the Bristol Naturalists Society n.s 9 (1899), pp. 6–37. 10. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962) places it ‘after June 20’; vol. 1, pp. 17–18. 11. This ‘Journal of an Excursion to Wales etc. Began August the 13th 1767 Ended January the 29th 1768’ also resides in the Cambridge University library with a copy made later by Sarah Sophia and illustrated with sketches and diagrams held in the National Library of Wales (MS 147).

CHAPTER 3: HMS ENDEAVOUR (1768–71) 1. O’Brian (1987), p. 62. 2. Royal Society: Council Minute Book Vol. 5, 1763–68., pp. 181–97. 3. Ibid., p. 227. 4. Alexander Dalrymple, Account of the Discoveries made in the South Pacifick Ocean Previous to 1764 (1767), pp. iii–iv, vi–vii. 5. Exactly what kind of vessel the Endeavour was has generated much debate amongst naval historians, she being called both ‘a cat-built vessel’ by the Navy Board and ‘Bark by the name of the Endeavour’ by the Admiralty in 1768. The authority of the subject Karl Heinz Marqardt (1995) concludes she was a cat-rigged bark. A bark being a type of sailing vessel with three or more masts and a cat, specifically a Whitby cat being a wide-beamed, shallow-draught, lightly rigged vessel built in Whitby designed for the coastal trade. 6. Carter, H.B. ‘The Royal Society and the Voyage of HMS ‘Endeavour’ 1768–71’. Notes and Records of the Royal Society of London. Vol. 49, No. 2 (Jul., 1995), p. 253. 7. Lysaght (1971), pp. 245-6. 8. Smith (1911), p. 16. 9. Chambers (2000), pp. 1–3 10. Carter (1988), p. 61. 11. Cockerell, T.D.A. ‘Dru Drury, an Eighteenth Century Entomologist’. The Scientific Monthly, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Jan., 1922), p. 73. 12. For biographies of Cook see: Beaglehole (ed.) (1968), Beaglehole (1974), Hough (1994), Thomas (2003) and Williams (ed.) (2004). 13. Williams (ed.) (2004), p. 49. 14. Chambers (2000). pp. 77–80. 15. Carter (1988), p. 65. 16. Ibid., pp. 70–1 17. In John Fothergill, Explanatory Remarks on the Preface to Sydney Parkinson’s Journal of a Voyage to the South-Seas by John Fothergill (London, reissue 1784), p. 4. 18. Beaglehole (ed.) (vol.1,1962), footnote 1 p. 75. 19. Carter (1988), pp. 71–3.

338

NOTES to pp. 54–135 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

25.

26. 27. 28.

29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

Ibid. Chambers (2000), p. 1. Gascoigne (1994), p. 17. Beaglehole (ed.) (vol.1,1962), p. 153, footnote 1. There is some time discrepancy between times and dates in Banks’s and Cook’s journals due to the fact that (with the exception of the stay at Tahiti) the former used the terrestrial calendar day from midnight to midnight and the latter the nautical day which began at noon. A nautical day entered in a ship’s log as 10 July, for example, commenced at noon on 9 July civil reckoning, PM therefore coming before AM. The quoted texts from Banks’s and Cook’s journals that appear in Chapter 3 are referenced within the text by journal entry date and not as separate endnotes. This is intended to make referencing the source straightforward, irrespective of which hard copy or online edition of the journal(s) the reader is studying. The text referred to herein is the online edition of Beaglehole (1962). Blainey (2008), p. 17. O’Brian (1987), pp. 66–7. For those wishing to read Banks’s words, Beaglehole’s edited transcript is freely available online in two volumes: volume I: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Bea01Bank.html and volume II: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Bea02Bank.html The interested reader will be deeply grateful for his conscientious and painstaking scholarship in providing copious and insightful notes. Cook’s journal is also available online, at http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks/e00043.html with the holographic manuscript at http://southseas.nla.gov.au/journals/cook/about.html Chambers (2000), pp. 77–80. Carter (1988), p.75. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 168. Chambers (2000), pp. 10–12. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 212. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1 p. 253. Ibid., p. 276, footnote 1. Matra (1771), p. 46. Parkinson (1773), p. 32. Eckstein and Schwarz (2019). Hatch (1982). Solander’s manuscript is in the Natural History Museum, London. Hatch (1982), p. 5. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 6. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 435. Hatch (1982), p. 6. Ibid. Parkinson (reissue 1784), p. 114. Hatch (1982), p. 7. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 9–42. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 2, p. 57, footnote 1. Ibid., p. 61, footnote 1. Benson and Eldershaw (2007), pp. 119–22. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 2, p. 77, footnote 2. Ibid., p. 94, footnote 1; Carter (1998), pp. 90–1. Sheffield quoted in Bell, T. (ed.) Gilbert White, The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne (reprinted Henley-on-Thames, 1877), vol. 2, pp. 97–100. Carter (1988), pp. 95–6. Beaglehole (1968), vol. 1, p. cclxviii. Ibid.

339

NOTES to pp. 135–158 61. Department of Manuscripts, British Museum Library, Add. MSS 9345, 15507, 15508, 23920 and 23921. 62. Capt W.J.L. Wharton Captain Cook’s Journal: During the First Voyage Round the World Made in H.M. Bark Endeavour 1768-71 by James Cook. (1893), p. vii. 63. ‘Hooker (ed.) (1896), p. ix.

CHAPTER 4: THE HERO AND THE EGOTIST 1. Chambers (2000), pp. 14-15. 2. The Annual Register, 1771, p. 150. 3. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1 p. 54. 4. ATL, ALS 269. 5. Ibid. 6. Beaglehole (ed.) (1974), p. 274, footnote 1. 7. O’Brian (1987), p. 172. 8. Chambers (2000), pp. 17–24. 9. He kept at least one copy: an example of the twelve-page pamphlet annotated in his hand is in the Mitchell Library, Sydney: ML, Z/C 922. 10. O’Brian (1987), p. 150. 11. NHM, MS Banks Coll BRO p. 94; also Cameron (1952), Appendix C. 12. LS, L4556. 13. Chambers (2000), pp. 283–4. 14. Cameron (1952), Appendix C 15. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 73. 16. A record of salaries is to be found in the archive volume ‘Voluntiers, Instructions, Provision for 2d. Voyage’ SLNSW, Banks Papers/Series 06. 17. Brougham (1847), p. 383. 18. ‘Voluntiers, Instructions, Provision for 2d. Voyage’, ML, Banks Papers/Series 06. 19. Chambers (2000), pp. 25–9. 20. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 75, footnote 2. 21. See Cameron (1952), Appendix D. 22. It may thus have been as a result of his being awarded an honorary degree that Banks gave some curiosities to his old college. In later years Christ Church presented the collection on loan to the University Museum and it was subsequently incorporated into the Pitt Rivers Collection in the mid-1880s. Rediscovered in 2002, it contains twenty-seven artefacts from Tahiti and New Zealand. 23. In 1990 the painting was bought by Lincolnshire County Council for £1,922,250 (the purchase supported by many generous donations) and now hangs in the Usher Gallery, the Collection Museum, Lincoln. 24. Leslie and Taylor (1865), vol. 1, p. 429. 25. Purchased for £297,765 in 1986, the Reynolds portrait painting now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery, London. 26. Carter (1988), p. 99. 27. O’Brian (1987), p. 153. 28. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p. 75, footnote 5. 29. BL, Add. MS 42714, f.10v 30. O’Brian (1987), p. 159. 31. BL, Add. MS 27888, ff. 4–4v. 32. BL, Add. MS 42714, f.10v 33. Chambers (2000), pp. 25–9. 34. Beaglehole (ed.) (1962), vol. 1, p.77. 35. O’Brian (1987), p. 162–3. 36. Town and Country Magazine (1773), vol. 5, pp. 457–9.

340

NOTES to pp. 159–177 37. Lysaght (1971), p. 261. 38. Geoffrey, A. The Hell-Fire Clubs: A History of Anti-Morality (Gloucestershire, 2000), p. 37. 39. Carter (1988), p. 152. – Sarah Wells is first named in a letter dated 3 November to Banks from his good friend, the antiquarian and politician Charles Greville (1749–1809) with whom Banks had travelled to the Netherlands. 40. Ibid. & Gascoigne (1994), pp. 50–1.

CHAPTER 5: TO ICELAND: THE INDEPENDENT EXPLORER 1. Banks’s Iceland expedition is comprehensively and authoritatively examined by Anna Agnarsdóttir (ed.) (2016). Banks’s original journal was composed of two manuscript parts and Agnarsdóttir reproduces it in its entirety. Part 1: July 12 to 6 September, pp. 45–92 and Part II: 17 September to 22 October 1772, pp. 93–114. The dates given within this text refer to the relevant entries here. 2. Their results were published in two volumes totalling over 1,100 pages as Reise igiennem Island in 1772, and translated into English as the abridged Travels in Iceland in 1805. 3. BL, Add. MS 8094, ff. 29–30. 4. Pascoe (2006), p. 65. 5. DTC, vol. 1, ff. 82–3: Lind to Maskelyne, 30 January 1775. 6. Agnarsdóttir (ed.) (2016), pp. 168–78, 181, 202. 7. The sources include a journal kept by Banks’s servant James Roberts (likely prepared for publication and now held in the Mitchell Library, Sydney (A1594), but reproduced in pp. 115–40 and available online at http://archival.sl.nsw.gov.au – search Reference Code: 456959), Troil’s account of the island published first in Swedish as Bref rorande en resa til Island (1777) and translated by J.R. Forster as Letters on Iceland (1780), Solander’s manuscript Plantae Islandicae et Notulae Itinerariae (1772) held in the Natural History Museum, London, Botany Manuscripts MSS BANKS COLL SOL) and Sir William Hooker’s Journal of a Tour in Iceland in the Summer of 1809 (privately printed in 1811), which quotes various of Banks’s notes. Hooker (1785–1865), father of Sir Dalton Joseph and from 1841 the first official director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, made his botanical trip at Banks’s suggestion; unfortunately on his homeward voyage the ship caught fire and William lost his entire collection, almost all his belongings and nearly his life. 8. The Scots Magazine (1772), vol. 34, pp. 637–8. 9. Banks quoted in Hooker (1811), pp.403–4. 10. Agnarsdóttir (ed.) (2016), p. 140. 11. BL, Add. MSS 15511–12. 12. BL, Add. MSS 45712, ff.4857–96. 13. Hooker (1811), p. 51. 14. Agnarsdóttir (ed.) (2016), pp. 218–24. 15. Ibid., pp. 30–1. 16. Hooker (1811), pp. 51–2. 17. Agnarsdóttir (ed.) (2016), pp. 33–4. 18. Ibid., pp. 168–74. 19. Carter (1988), p. 121. 20. The Oxford Magazine, 1770, quoted in Joseph Twadell Shipley, The Origins of English Words: A Discursive Dictionary of Indo-European Roots (Baltimore, 1984), p. 143. 21. O’Brien (2006), p. 64. 22. Ibid., p. 67. 23. Gascoigne (1994), p. 50.

CHAPTER 6: THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, KEW 1. Lodge (1834), p. 6. 2. Ibid. 3. BL, Add. MS 33982, f.286.

341

NOTES to pp. 178–203 4. SML, Sterling Reel 1. 5. Carter (1988), pp. 343–6. 6. BL, Add. MS 41855, f.251. 7. Bodl., MS Wilberforce, c. 44. 8. Chambers (2000), pp. 264–5. 9. Carter (1988), pp. 135–44 and for details on the reprographic processes. 10. At long last Alecto Historical Editions, using Banks’s original plates, published 100 sets of 743 prints in 35 parts between 1980 and 1990. 11. Desmond (1995), p. 41. 12. Ibid., p. 42. 13. Ibid., p. 89. 14. Today it is officially Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (RBGK) but ‘Kew Garden’ has, and continues to be known by various names. In its early incarnation it was simply the Royal Garden at Kew. But upon becoming unofficial director in 1772 Banks most commonly referred to it as the ‘Royal Gardens at Kew’, while Masson (1776) was the first to use ‘Royal Botanic Gardens’ in a publication. However, the full title of the first official publication during Banks’s tenure as unofficial director was Hortus Kewensis, or, A catalogue of the plants cultivated in the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew (1789) and the unsuccessful periodical which ran to only three issues (1796–1803) was titled Delineations of Exotick Plants cultivated in the Royal Garden at Kew. In 1840 it changed status from a private royal garden to publicly administered and funded National Botanic Garden under the responsibility of the Board of Woods and Forests (see Desmond (1995), pp. 143–57 for an account of the transition). Written by the first official director, Sir W J. Hooker’s Report on Kew Gardens were published annually between 1855 and 1858 by the Royal Gardens, Kew. As were the succeeding annual Report on the Progress and Condition of the Royal Gardens at Kew (1861–62) and The Bulletin of Miscellaneous Information (1887–1900). Then in 1901 the publisher’s name changes to Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. 15. DTC, vol. 10 (1), ff. 38–43. 16. Desmond (1995), p. 90. 17. Anon [?C. Tomlinson] (1844), p. 89. 18. DTC, vol. 19, f. 240. 19. Desmond (1995), p. 92. 20. Smith (ed.) (1821), vol. 2, p. 3. 21. Carter (1988), p. 124. 22. Biswas (1950), p. 7. 23. ML, MS A300. 24. LS, MS 115. 25. Suttor (1855), p. 11. 26. Philosophical Transactions (1776), vol. 66, part 1, pp. 268–317. 27. Quoted from Alexander Chalmers The General Biographical Dictionary . . . (London, 1815) vol. 21, pp. 447–8. 28. www.measuringworth.com/calculators/ppoweruk/ 29. Carter (1988), p. 172. 30. Ibid. 31. Chambers (2000), p. 86–8. 32. Desmond (1995), p. 113 33. Ibid., p. 114. 34. Ibid., p. 115. 35. RBGK, ‘Banks correspondence’, vol.1, p. 122. 36. Williams (2002); p. 355. 37. Mackay (1985), p. 100. 38. BL, Add. MS 33979, f. 75v. 39. Mackay (1985), pp. 105–6. 40. Lamb (1984), p. 1630. 41. Carter (1988), pp. 406–7.

342

NOTES to pp. 203–229 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

BL, Add. MS 33981, f.104. Carter (1988), p. 406. The Chinese Repository, (September 1833), vol. 2, p. 227. Miller (1996), p. 52. Ibid., The Chinese Repository. Ibid., pp. 227–8. SL, Bo I: 39. Carter (1988), p. 486. DTC, vol. 19, ff. 40–41. Appendix V in James Hingston Tuckey, Narrative of an Expedition to Explore the River Zaire, usually Called the Congo, in South Africa, in 1816 (London, 1818). Desmond (1995), p. 90. The Botanical Magazine (1794), vol. 8, p. 260. Desmond (1995), p. 100. Ibid., p. 134. Carter (1988), pp. 302–4. With its operations always shrouded in secrecy the Royal Bounty Fund was a government fund set up in 1782 by Edmund Burke which paid out gifts, grants and pensions under the patronage of the prime minister. No accounts were ever published and the fund was finally wound down in 2002 by Tony Blair. Gascoigne (1994), p. 19. DTC, vol. 15, ff. 184–91. Bulletin of miscellaneous information (1899), Appendix III. Smith (1911), p. 120. SL. Bo I:39. Carter (1988), p. 276. Ibid., pp. 276–7. Ibid., p. 271. Chambers (2000), pp. 114–19. For more on Banks and tea, see Baldwin (1993) and Carter (1998), pp. 271–3. Newell (2010), p. 148. Mackay (1974), p. 63. Smith (1911), pp. 126–9. Ibid., p. 138. Masefield (1967), pp. 275–301. SLNSW, Series 16.13. BL, Add MS 33980, ff. 65–6. Smith (1911), p. 94.

CHAPTER 7: THE FATHER OF AUSTRALIA 1. Portrait of Omai sold at auction in 2001 for a hammer price of £9.4 million, while Omai, Sir Joseph Banks and Daniel Charles Solander by William Parry was purchased in 2003 jointly by the National Portrait Gallery, London, the Captain Cook Memorial Museum, Whitby and the National Museums and Galleries of Wales. 2. Sheppard (1966), pp. 115–21. 3. For a detailed description of the house, see Carter (1988), pp. 331–7. 4. Carter (1988), p. 154. 5. Ibid., p. 156. 6. John Byng, fifth Viscount Torrington, The Torrington Diaries, ed. C.B. Andrews, vol. 2, p. 374. 7. Cameron (1952), p. 255. 8. Ibid., pp. 257–8. 9. DTC, vol. 18, ff. 106–7.

343

NOTES to pp. 230–250 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56.

Walpole (2015), pp. 483–4. The Quarterly Review (1843), vol. 72, p. 195. Edwards (1870), vol. 2, p. 503. Ibid.,Andrews (ed.) (1935), vol. 2, p. 376. Taylor (2018), p. 87. Journals of the House of Commons, (reprint 1803), vol. 37, p. 311. Ibid. Parkinson (1773), p. 135. Ibid., Journals of the House of Commons. Ibid. Suttor (1855), respectively pp. 6, 13, 12 and 18–19. BL, Add. MS 33977, f. 206. Ibid. BL, Add. MS 47568. NA HO, 7/1, ff. 71–6. NA T 1/639, fos.142–6. NA HO, 7/1, ff.71–6. Alan Frost ‘The East India Company and the choice of Botany Bay’, Historical Studies (1975) vol. 16, issue 65, p. 606. Frost (2011), p. 63. Gillen (1989,) p. 445. Watson (1914), series 1, vol. 1, p. 18. Carter (1988), p. 232. John Ramsay M’Culloch quoting a letter from Governor Phillip, M’Culloch’s Universal Gazetteer (New York, 1845) vol. 1, p. 218. Gascoigne (1998), p. 48. DTC, vol.10, ff.275–6. SL, SS 1:47 and 1:48 NA HO, 28/6, f.2,313. Carter (1988), p. 354. Lieut. William Paterson, A Narrative of Four Journeys into the Country of the Hottentots, and Caffraria (London, 1789). Carter (1988), p. 360. Ibid. DTC, vol. 11, ff.122–4. Mackannes, (1936), p. 119. Suttor (1855), p. 17. SLNSW, Series 18.045. Carter (1988), p. 361. For a detailed analysis of this, Australia’s first and only coup d’état, see Herbert Vere Evatt, Rum Rebellion. A Study of the Overthrow of Governor Bligh by John Macarthur and the New South Wales Corps (Sydney, 3rd ed. 1943). Also NSWSL Series 40: Correspondence, being mainly letters received by Banks from William Bligh, 1805–1811. Papers of Sir Joseph Banks: Section 7 – Governors of New South Wales. Carter (1988), pp. 473–5. Marshall (ed.) (1998), p. 248. Webb (2000), p. 618. Carter (1988), pp. 421–2. Ibid., p. 422. Lincoln (1998), p. 49. Carter (1988), p. 433. SLNSW Series 35.35. McNab, R (ed.) (1908), pp. 276–8. Carter (1988), pp. 432–3.

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NOTES to pp. 251–273 57. Lang (1837), pp. 168–70. 58. Australian Dictionary for Biography online entry for Philip Parker King, http://adb.anu.edu.au/ biography/king-phillip-parker-2310 59. RBGK, ‘Kew collectors’, vol. 7A, f.18. 60. Carter (1988), p. 227. 61. Carter (1988), pp. 239–40. Carter also provides detail on the seven subsequent years of crossbreeding experimentation undertaken by Banks, pp. 228-31; see also Carter (ed.) (1979) for more on Banks and sheep. 62. Carter (1988), p. 238. 63. Ibid. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid. p. 239. 66. Ibid. 67. Carter (1988), p. 427. 68. SLNSW, Series 23.31. 69. Carter (1988), p. 428. 70. Ibid. 71. Ibid., p. 451. 72. Cameron (1952), p. 207.

CHAPTER 8: THE SCIENTIST-ENABLER 1. Carter (1988), Appendix XXVII. 2. Hasted (1797), p. 743. 3. Russell (1983), pp. 24–5. 4. Lodge (1834), p. 5. 5. Lyons (1944), p. 198. 6. Carter (1988), pp. 146–7. 7. Ibid., p. 147. 8. BL, Add. MS 38233, ff.273–4. 9. Suttor (1855), p. 15. 10. Drayton (2000), p. 101. 11. Cameron (1952), p. 113. 12. Brougham (1847), pp. 363–4; my italics. 13. Carter (1988), p. 176. 14. Wardhaugh (2017), p. 48 15. O’Brian (1987), p. 209. 16. Gascoigne (1994), p. 62. 17. Weld (1848), p. 164. 18. Geikie (1907), pp. 46–51. 19. Kippis (1784), p. 131. 20. Brougham (1845), p. 368. 21. Weld (1848), p. 153. 22. Gascoigne (1994), p. 13. 23. Lyons (1944), p. 202 and Appendix II C. Lyons provides a summary of Banks’s presidency between pages 179 and 227. 24. Carter (1988), Appendix XV. 25. Cobbett’s Political Register, (1802) c.1, vol.1 Jan–Jun, pp. 327–30. 26. Ibid., (1802) c.1, vol. 2 Jul–Dec, pp. 577–82. 27. Carter (1988), pp.183–5. This interest in hot air ballooning culminated with the first sea crossing by balloon (across the English Channel from Dover to Calais) by the American-born Dr John Jeffries (a visitor to Banks at Soho Square that preceding December) and Frenchamn Jean Pierre Blanchard on 7 January 1785. An achievement which also marked the first air mail carried, including letters (from whom is not recorded) to Louis XVI and Benjamin Franklin.

345

NOTES to pp. 273–295 28. The French Naval officer and explorer Jean-François de Galaup, comte de La Pérouse (1741–88?) was appointed by King Louis XVI to lead a global voyage of discovery with the aims of completing the Pacific discoveries of James Cook (whom La Pérouse greatly admired), correct and complete charts of the area, develop trading opportunities, open new maritime routes and enrich French science and scientific collections. Banks, through the Royal Society, presented the expedition with two inclining compasses that had belonged to Cook. La Pérouse and his two ships – L’Astrolabe and La Boussole – left Brest on 1 August 1785, rounded Cape Horn, visited Chile, Hawai’i, Alaska, California, the Philippines, Japan, east Russia, and various South Pacific islands before arriving off Botany Bay, Australia on 24 January 1788 where the First Fleet was encountered. Heading north from New South Wales on 10 March the expedition vanished in Oceania. Not until 1826 did the Irish sea captain, Peter Dillon, establish that the ships had been lost somewhere near Vanikoro, an island in the Santa Cruz group. 29. Chambers (2000), pp. 171–2. 30. Ibid., pp. 175–6. 31. Carter (1988), p. 387. 32. BL, Add. MS 37809, f.329. 33. Carter (1988), p. 179. 34. O’Brian (1987), p. 212. 35. RSL, MM/7/41. 36. Chambers (2000), pp. 155–6. 37. Waring (2014), pp. 58–9. 38. Carter (1988), p. 147. 39. O’Brian (1987), p. 196 40. Gascoigne (1994), p. 253. 41. The Gentleman’s Magazine, (1820) vol. 90, part 2, p. 88 42. Gascoigne (1998), p. 8. 43. Chambers (2007), vol. 2, p. 5. 44. Gascoigne (1998), p. 49. 45. Great Britain Board of Agriculture. Communications to the Board of Agriculture (London, 1797), vol. 1, pp. xvii–xx. 46. The French Revolutionary Wars were a series of sweeping military conflicts lasting from 1792 until 1802. After the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789 Britain remained neutral but on 1 February 1793 France declared war on Britain and the Netherlands. It was not until April 1796 that a hitherto unknown general named Napoleon Bonaparte began his first campaign in Italy. 47. Annals of Agriculture, and Other Useful Arts (1801), vol. 37, pp. 162–8. 48. Journals of the House of Commons (1801), Vol. 56, pp. 36, 37–8, 83, 104. 49. Banks (1806), p. 12. 50. Anon. (1811), p. 341. 51. Smeaton (1812), vol. 1, pp. ix–xi. 52. Carter (1988), pp. 314–15. 53. LAO, Hawley MS, 6/3/4. 54. Carter (1988), p. 309. 55. Ibid., p. 313. 56. The Parliamentary Register; or, History of the Proceedings and Debates of the House of Commons, (1797), vol. 1, p. 738. 57. On 22 March 1797 Banks published a report, ‘Essay regarding the coal trade, the number of persons it employs, revenue gained from it & the importance of the coal trade to the naval strength of Great Britain’, see Gascoigne (2004), p. 164. 58. LS, Smith Corr. I, f.158. 59. During the discussions about forming the society and in the years following the inaugural Fellows meeting on 26 February 1788 the society was called the Linnaean Society. However, the Royal Charter granted on 26 March 1802 created the Linnean Society of London, often shortened simply to the Linnean Society. 60. Carter (1988), pp.191–2.

346

NOTES to pp. 296–311 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70.

71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79.

80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.

86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91.

Analytical Review: Or History of Literature, Domestic and Foreign . . . (1790) vol. 6, p. 520. SL, A2:7. Lincoln (ed.) (1998), p. 43. SL, A1:12 Musgrave. Guthry (1790), p. 840. An account of Lucas’s travels are given in Proceedings of the Association for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of Africa (1790), vol. 1, pp. 37–73. Park (1838), p. 12. The full title of the work is Travels In The Interior Districts Of Africa: Performed Under The Direction And Patronage Of The African Association, In The Years 1795, 1796, And 1797. BL, Add. MS 38233, ff.94–5 Sylvain Meinrad Xavier de Golbéry (1742–1822) was a French geographer and military engineer best known for his account of his travels in western Africa. His Fragmens d’un voyage en Afrique, fait pendant les années 1785, 1786 et 1787, dans les contrées de ce continent comprises entre le cap Blanc et le cap des Palmes, (Paris, 1802), 2 vols., was translated into English by William Mudford as Travels in Africa: performed during the years 1785, 1786, and 1787 in the Western Countries of this Continent (London, 1812 and 1813), 2 vols. Middleton (1994), p. 172. Royal Institution MMS: HD/9, pp.299–300. Jones (1871), pp. 262–4. For the correspondence relating to the founding of the Society, see Fletcher (1969), pp. 19–36. Carter (1988), p. 401. Knight published his criticisms in a pamphlet entitled Some Doubts Relative to the Efficacy of Mr. Forsyth’s Plaister . . . (London, 1802). Elliott (1994), p. 122. . See Mylechreest (1984) for Knight’s role in the founding of the Society. Knight (1812), p. 2. Interestingly Knight used exactly the same phrase in his ‘Report of a Committee of the Horticultural Society of London Containing a View of Improvement which may be made in Gardening. Drawn up at their request by T.A. Knight, Esq.’ The Scots Magazine and Edinburgh Literary Miscellany, (1806), Vol. 68, pp. 420–23. Banks, J. ‘A Short Account, with a Coloured Figure, of a New Apple, Called the Spring Grove Codling’ Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1812) vol.1, pp.197–8. Carter (1988), Appendix XIV. Ibid., p. 488. A vignette of the house and garden was given albeit 20 years after Banks’s death by George James Aungier in The History and Antiquities of Syon Monastery & c. (London, 1840), p.512–13. Carter (1988), pp. 337–42. Nine of Banks’s papers appear in the first volume of the Transactions (1812), see List of Authors at the end of the volume (no page number). A bibliography of Banks’s publications including those in the Transactions is given in The Penny Cyclopaedia of the Society for the Diffussion of Useful Knowledge (1835) vol. 3, p. 357. Banks, J. ‘An attempt to ascertain the time when the potatoe (Solanum tuberosum) was first introduced into the United Kingdom; with some Account of the Hill Wheat of India’ Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1812) vol.1, pp. 8–12. Banks, J. ‘On the Forcing-houses of the Romans, with a List of Fruits Cultivated by them, now in our Gardens’ pp. 147–56. Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1812) vol. 1, pp. 147– 56. Banks, J. ‘On the Forcing-houses of the Romans, with a List of Fruits Cultivated by them, now in our Gardens’ pp. 147–56. Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1812) vol. 1, pp. 21–5. Oldaker, I. ‘Account of the Method of Growing Mushrooms in Houses’ Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1817) vol.2, pp. 336–46. Robinson, W. Mushroom culture: its Extension and Improvement (London, 1870), p. 12. Sturtevant (1919), p. 402.

347

NOTES to pp. 311–334 92. Banks, J. ‘An Account of the Method of Cultivating the American Cranberry (Vaccinium Macrocarpum), at Spring Grove’, Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1812) vol. 1, pp. 75–8 . 93. Banks, J. ‘Notes Relative to the First Appearance of Aphis Lanigera, or the Apple Tree Insect, in this County’ Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London (1817) vol. 2, pp. 162–9. 94. The Botanical Register (1817) vol. 3, plate 220, text. 95. Smith (1911), p. 158. 96. Smith (1911), p. 38. 97. Curley, T.M. Sir Robert Chambers: Law, Literature, and Empire in the Age of Johnson (Wisconsin, 1998), p. 129.

CHAPTER 9: THE LAST TWO DECADES 1. Carter (1988), p. 533. See Carter pp. 524–35 for a summary of Banks’s gouty condition. 2. For a discussion of the iconography of Banks’s portraiture see Patricia Fara ‘The Royal Society’s portrait of Joseph Banks’ Notes and Records of the Royal Society (1997) vol. 51 (2), pp. 199–210. 3. Pierson (2007), p. 49. 4. Banks quoted in Carter (1988), pp. 441–2. 5. Carter (1988), p. 490. 6. Smith (1911), p. 297. 7. Banks quoted in Carter (1988), p. 508. 8. Parry quoted in Lysaght (1971), pp. 284–5. 9. Desmond (1995), p. 103. 10. http://powo.science.kew.org/taxon/urn:lsid:ipni.org:names:297067-1 11. O’Brian (1987), p. 303. 12. Parry (1820), p. 238. Situated at 73° 00′ North, 121° 30′ West in the Inuvik Region of the Canadian Arctic Archipelago – and home to 68,000 muskoxen (the greater part of the world population) – Banks Land is today called Banks Island and is the world’s twenty-fourth largest at 27,038 square miles. 13. Carter (1988), p. 536. 14. The Gentleman’s Magazine (1820) vol. 90, part 1, pp. 637–8. 15. The Gentleman’s Magazine (1820) vol. 90, part 2, p. 364. 16. The Philosophical Magazine (1820) s.1 vol. 56, pp. 40–6. 17. Ibid., pp. 161–74 and 241–57. 18. H. Davy quoted in J. Davy (1836), p. 126. 19. For example Suttor (1855), Preface. On the title page of this work Suttor includes a poem to Banks by ‘W.C.W’: And thou, the foremost in fair learning’s ranks, Patron of every art, departed Banks; Who, dispising riches and inglorious ease, The rocks and quicksands brav’d of unknown seas. 20. 21. 22. 23.

The Philosophical Magazine (1820) s.1 vol. 56, p. 46. Carter (1988), p. 539. Mayr (2000), p. 867, endnote 18. Kent Archive Office, U951/C141/2.

A NOTE ON BANKS’S JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE 1. The Catalogues of the Library and collection of prints belonging to Sir Joseph Banks is Add MS 33494. 2. Beaglehole (1962) vol.1, pp. 141–5. 3. Hooker (1896), pp. ix–x.

348

NOTES to pp. 334–336 4. Botany Manuscripts MSS BANKS COLL DAW. 5. Beaglehole (1962) vol. 1, pp. 144–5.

A NOTE ON BANKS’S DATE OF BIRTH 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

The Gentleman’s Magazine (1743), vol. 13, p. 106. Carter (1988), p. 23. Beaglehole (1962), vol. 1, p. 4. Brougham (1847), pp. 338–9. Cameron (1952), p. 1.

349

Abbreviations

ATL BL Bodl. DTC LAO ML NA NA HO NA T NHM RBGK SLNSW SML LS RSL SL

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. British Library, London. Bodleian Library, Oxford. Dawson Turner Copies, Banks Correspondence, Botany Library, Natural History Museum, London. Lincolnshire Archive Office. Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney. National Archive, Kew (formerly Public Record Office) National Archive, Kew, Home Office National Archive, Kew, Treasury Natural History Museum, London. Archive, Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. State Library of New South Wales Sterling Memorial Library, Yale University, New Haven. Linnaean Society of London Royal Society Library, London. Sutro Library, San Francisco State University.

350

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357

Index

Abel, Dr Clarke, 185, 193, 324 abolitionism, 178–9 Acacia genus, 117 Account of the Voyage round the World, An…, 145 Adams, Sir Thomas, 27, 29, 43 Adventure, HMS, 148, 225 African Association achievements of, 303 Banks’s involvement in, 296, 297, 298, 319–20 colonisation agenda in West Africa, 301–2 early explorers, 296–9 exploration of the River Niger, 298, 299, 300, 302 Mungo Park, 210, 299–302 Afzelius, Adam, 187–9 Aiton, William, 182, 185–6, 197 Aiton, William Townsend, 203, 205, 207, 208, 307, 321 Amaryllis 64, Plate 25 America, North Nootka Crisis, 199, 200, 237 plant hunters in, 211 transportation to, 231 United States Declaration of Independence, 261 see also Newfoundland and Labrador; Vancouver expedition Anderson, Dr James, 214 Argyll Street, London, 1–2 Arnold, John and chronometer, 278, Plate 35 Arnold, Dr Joseph, 189 Astronomical Society, 294 Aubert, Alexander, 262, 270

Augusta of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, 181, 182–3, 186 Australia Botany Bay, 116–17, 197, 233, Plate 29 collection of natural curiosities in, 189 colonisation of, 124–5, 237, Plate 30 escape out through ‘the Grand Reef ’, 123–4 European settlement of New South Wales, 125 exploration for the Southern Continent, 93–7 exploration of the interior of, 243, 245 first circumnavigation of, 246–7 first sighting, 112–13 herbarium specimens, 116–17 kangaroos, 121, 122 Kew’s plant hunters in, 206, 251–2 near disaster on Endeavour Reef, 118–21 specimens at Kew, 202 suspected existence of Terra Australis Incognita, 40, 44, 48, 111–12 taxa collected, 115–17, 121, 123–4, 125 wool industry, 245 see also New South Wales colony; the First Fleet Australian Aboriginals, 112, 113–15, 122–3 bananas, 82, 214 Banke, Simon, 2 Banks, Dorothea (née Hugessen), 321–2, 324, Plate 22 Banks, Eleanora Margaret, 5–6 Banks, Elizabeth, 5 Banks, Joseph I, 2–4 Banks, Joseph II, 2, 4–5 Banks, Joseph III, 2, 5

358

INDEX Banks, Letitia Mary, 5 Banks, Sarah (née Bate), 1, 7, 8–9, 14, 20, 181 Banks, Sarah Sophia, 1, 29, 141, 228–9, 324 Banks, Sir Joseph at 32 Soho Square, 226, 292–3, 310, Plate 23 abolitionist views, 178–9 agricultural and estate management, 15, 286–7 anticlerical scepticism, 179–80 antiquarian interests, 184, 312–14 appointment as high sheriff, 289 baronetcy of, 266 belief in the exchange of knowledge, 280–1 belief in progress and improvement, 177–8 birth of, 1 and the Board of Agriculture, 284–6 cameo, Plate 22 character of, 11, 24, 142, 229–31, 330–2 chronic gout, 4, 220, 229, 231, 251, 256, 289, 317–18, 319 coat of arms, Plate 42 Committee for Coinage, 293 date of birth, 336 dealings with Sydney Parkinson’s family, 143–4 death of, 328 early love of the outdoors, 8, 9, 181, Plate 3 eccentric, 17, 21, 229 education, 9–16, 17 egotism of, 140, 154–5 election as a foreign associate of Paris’s Institut National des Sciences et des Artes, 272 failure to publish his outcomes, 117, 136 fishing expedition with ‘Ladies of Pleasure’, 22 as a Freemason, 314 guardianship of Mai, 225 honorary degree from Oxford University, 151 honorary membership of the Linnean Society, 296 horticultural research, 309–11 intellectual life of, 176–7 interest in cross-breeding sheep for fine wool, 252–4 interest in geology and mining, 288, Plate 38 interest in industrial technology, 35, 178 knight of the Order of the Bath, 289–91 lampooned, xv, 173–5, 271–2, Plate 18 legacy of, 329–30 as a man of science, 177 membership of clubs and societies, 15, 260, 312, 316, 319 mistaken for a highwayman, 20–1 mistresses, 158–61 national militia proposal, 289

obituaries, 328–9 personal wealth of, 16, 52, 151, 181 philosophical breakfast events, 230 political impartiality of, 262–3, 273, 281 portraits of, 11–12, 151–2, 313, 318, Plates 1, 19, 33, 41 post-voyage fame, 140–1, 143, Plate 9 private herbarium and library, 135–6, 185, 186, 226–7, 295, 318, 329, 333 on the Privy Council, 291–2 projects of, 224–5 relationship with George III, 140–1 relationship with James Cook, 57, 98–9, 196 relationship with Peggy Banks, 6 reputation as a libertine, 22, 25, 158, 160, 173, 175, 227 as research subject, 224 Robert’s guardianship over, 6, 14 role as a scientist-adviser, 280–2 Rosa banksiae 204, Plate 7 and the royal Merino sheep, 253–4, 257, 258, 259, 320 sexual profligacy in Tahiti, 86–7, 173–5 Sir Joseph Banks’s Protest, 278 spelling, 10, 26, 58 supervision of Cook’s A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, 198, 217 ungentlemanly behaviour towards to Harriet Blosset, 55–6, 141–3, 146, 151, 159, 174 vilification of, 173–5 weighing guests, 229 Banks, William, 1–2, 6–8, 14 Banks-Hodgkinson, Robert, 6, 9, 14, 34, 151, 177–8, 227, 288 Banksia genus, 117, 295 B. ericifolia, 117 B. grandis, 202 B. integrifolia, 117 B. praemorsa, 202 B. serrata, 117, Plate 16 Banksian shell collection, 53, 134, 295, Plate 17 Barrington, Daines, 141, 142 Bartram, John, 18, 182, 187 Batavia, 127–8, 221, 323 Bathurst, Henry, third Earl, 206, 250–1 Bauer, Ferdinand, 247–8, 320, 321 Bauer, Franz Andreas, 223 Bayly, William, 151 Beauchamp, Lord, 140, 235 Berger, Jean François, 319 Billings, Joseph, 198, 296 binomial system, 18, 21, 180 Blagden, Charles, 18, 267–8, 276, 282, 283 Blaxland, John, 245–6

359

INDEX Bligh, William as commander of HMS Bounty, 217, 220–1 governorship of New South Wales, 221, 244–5, 250 Rum Rebellion, 244–5, 258 Blosset, Julia Henrietta (Harriet), 55–6, 141–3, 146, 151, 159, 174 Board of Agriculture, 284–6 Board of Longitude, 276–8, 319 Boswell, James, 153, 187, Plate 40 Botanic Garden at Peradeniya, Ceylon, 204–5, 214, 322 Botanic Garden of the University of Coimbra, 30 Botany Bay, 116–17, 197, 231–6, Plate 29; see also New South Wales colony Bougainville, Louis Antoine de, 76, 85, 91, 132, 137, 149 Boulton, Matthew, 19 Bounty, HMS, 217, 220–1 Bowie, James, 205–6, 323 Brancas, Louis-Léon-Félicité de, 146 Brass, William, 187 breadfruit (Artocarpus altilis), xv, 78, 82, 133, 138, 178, 216–17, 220, 221, Plates 13, 28 Briscoe, Peter, 25, 49, 70, 130, 132 British Museum Banks on the Board of Trustees, 314 Banks’s private herbarium and library, 329, 333 collections of, 135, 223, 265, 314 Daniel Solander’s position at, 19, 50 founding of, 17 Reading Room, 17 Sarah Sophia Banks’s collection, 228–9 Brougham, Henry, 11, 13 Broussonet, Pierre Marie Auguste, 253 Brown, Robert, 185, 247–8, 319, 320, 321, 333, 334 Bruce, James, 187 Buchan, Alexander, 49, 69, 79, 102, 135, 150 Inhabitants of the Island of Terra del Fuego in their Huts, Plate 11 Burchell, William, 314 Burckhardt, Johann Ludwig, 302 Burke, Edmund, 314 Burney, Fanny, 145, 230 Bute, John Stuart, third Earl of, 182–3 Byng, John, 228, 231, 315 cabbage trees, 104, 113 Caley, George, 242–4, 247 Cambridge University, 16 Canada, 24

Catalogus Plantarum Horti Botanici Oxoniensis, 15 Catherine II (Catherine the Great), 208–9, 296 Cavendish, Henry, 267–8, 270, 282, 283 Chambers, William, 182 Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, 183, 230, 261, 273, 323–4 Chart of the South Pacifick Ocean…, 43, 99 Chelsea (village), 9, 14, 20–1 Chelsea Physic Garden, 9, 16, 19, 21, 170, 185–6, 243 China Britain’s hopes for trade with, 192–3, 199 HEIC trading factory at Canton, 191–2, 202 plant hunters in, 203–4, 211–12, 322, 324 tea trade, 215 Christ Church, Oxford, 14–16, Plate 5 Clevely, John, 150, 180 cochineal, 190, 214–15 Cochrane-Johnstone, Andrew, 258–9 Coke, Lady Mary, 141, 148 Collinson, Peter, 18, 19, 182 colonialism and the Africa Association, 301–2 British expansion of, 24, 38, 76 colonial botanic gardens, 213 colonial expansionism of Banks, 138, 178 colonial tea gardens, 215–16 colonisation of Australia, 124–5, 237 commodity plants in the colonies, 138, 178, 190–1, 214 possible colonisation of America, 200–1 commodity plants breadfruit, 138, 216–20 colonial tea gardens, 215–16 in the colonies, 138, 178, 190–1, 213, 214 flax, 138, 236 hemp trade, 216, 236 Hon’ble Company’s Botanic Garden, Calcutta, 190–1, 213–14 in the New South Wales colony, 242 plant hunters for in New South Wales, 242–3 Congo, HMS, 206–7 Cook, James as an astronomer, 47, 48 Banks’s first meetings with, 30, 42 on Botany Bay, 116–17, 233 as commander of the South Seas expedition, 43, 46 death of, 198, 265 early career, 47–8 earnings, 16 on HMS Resolution, 154 hopes for a second expedition, 147–8 and Mai, 225

360

INDEX post-voyage press coverage, 140, Plate 9 promotion, 147 relations with the Ma¯’ohi people, 77 relationship with Banks, 57, 98–9, 196 Royal Society Cook Medal, 265 second voyage, 157–8 secret orders, 54, 93–6 selection for the transit of Venus expedition, 41–2, 48–9 A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, 198, 217 see also Endeavour, HMS; Endeavour voyage of discovery Corn Law, 292–3 cowrie shells, Plate 17 crimson bottlebrush (Callistemon citrinus), 117, 208 Cunningham, Allan, 205, 206, 251–2, 323 cycad, 327, Plate 44 Dalrymple, Alexander, 40, 42, 99, 155, 198 Darwin, Charles, 137, 210 Davy, Humphry, 305–6, 308, 318, 328–9, 331 Devisme, Gerard, 31 Dickson, James, 296, 299, 307 Dillenius, Johann Jakob, 15 dingo, 116, 121 Discovery, HMS, 196, 198, 199, 200 Dixon, Jeremiah, 37 Dodd, Robert, 220, Plate 28 Dolphin, HMS, 38, 39, 48, 50, 57, 75 Donkin, Bryan, 324 Douce, Francis, 314 Douglas, David, 202, 211 Drury, Dru, 45 Dryander, Jonas Carlsson, 226, 296, 321 Dutch East India Company, 127 East, Hinton, 187 effects of heat on the body, 224 Ehret, Georg Dionysius, 32 Elliott, John, 154, 155 Ellis, John, 18, 25, 51–2 Endeavour, HMS, Plates 8, 11 Cook as commander of the expedition, 43, 48 Cook’s rules for interactions with the Ma¯’ohi people, 75 crew fatigue/illness, 117–18, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130 departure of, 56 dimensions of, 56–7 onboard living conditions, 57, 59–60, 98, 99 post-voyage life, 138 press coverage of, 50–1 refit in Batavia, 128 repairs to, 63

selection of, 41 ship’s company, 57 ship’s goat, 57, 153 Tupaia’s navigational skills, 92 Endeavour journal, 136, 138, 329, 334–5, Plate 10 Endeavour voyage of discovery Banks’s collections from, 132–4 Banks’s expectations for, 54 Banks’s interest in the expedition, 38–40 Banks’s selection for the transit of Venus expedition, 42–6, 48–9 Banks’s team, 49–50, 57 Botany Bay, 232–3, Plate 29 British colonial aspirations, 38 chronology of, 57–8 commodity plants policy, 138 Cook as commander of the expedition, 43, 46 crew journals, 145–6 equipment and expedition costs, 51–4 first southern circumnavigation, 38–9 Florilegium, non-publication of, 180–1 hopes for a second expedition, 146–8 journey home, 125–31 Leeward Islands, 93 legacy of, 132–40 Madeira to Rio de Janeiro, 60–2 manuscript and natural history graphic outcomes, 135 observation of the transit of Venus, 37 the Pacific Ocean, 71–4 press coverage of, 50–1 publication of collections from, 149 Rio de Janeiro, 62–5 the route back to England, 110–12 Savu, 126–7 ship-based natural history research, 137 taxa collected, 60, 65, 67, 71, 80, 134 Tierra del Fuego, 65–71 see also Australia; New Zealand; Tahiti Enlightenment, 83, 173–4, 177 Etches, John, 198 Etches, Richard, 198, 199 Eton College, 10–11, 13–14, Plate 3 Falconer, Thomas, 44, 153 Farington, Joseph, 231, 315 Faujas de Saint-Fond, Barthélemy, 268–70 firs, 202, 204, 211 First Fleet arrival in Australia, 238–9 Arthur Phillip’s command of, 237 fitting-out of, 237–8 flax equipment onboard, 236 see also New South Wales colony

361

INDEX flax, 100, 104, 138, 151, 219, 236, 310 Flora Cochinchinensis, 31, 223 Flinders, Matthew, 66, 246, 248–9, 300, 320 Fly Catching Macaroni, The (Matthew Darly), 173, Plate 18 Forster, Georg, 157, 230 Forster, Johann Reinhold, 157 Forsyth, William, 307–8 Fortune, Robert, 211 Fothergill, Dr John, 73, 97, 139, 144, 145–6, 186, 187, 310 France American interests, 199, 237 Anglo-French survey, 282–4 Banks as a foreign associate of Paris’s Institut National des Sciences et des Artes, 272 Canadian provinces, 24 colonial ambitions in Africa, 301 gift of the maidenhair tree, 253 Jardin Royal des Plantes, Paris, 184–5 position of the Observatoire Royal, 282 returned natural history collections, 273–4 as a scientific nation, 137 war with Britain, 209, 284, 289 Franklin, Benjamin, 261, 273, 274, 281 Frederick, Prince of Wales, 181 Furneaux, Tobias, 148, 225 General View country surveys, 285 Gentleman’s Magazine, The, 1, 8, 184, 189, 279, 328, 336 Geological Society, 294 George III aftermath of the American Revolution, 279 awarding of the Order of the Bath to Banks, 289–91 Banks and Solander’s presentation to, 140 Bute’s influence on, 19, 182 friendship with Banks, 184, 262, 275 illness of, 205–6, 322–3 interest in farming, 181, 253–4 the lightning conductors dispute, 261–2 love of gardening, 181 practical good sense of, 177 royal Merino sheep, 258, 259, 320 support for Kew, 203, 208–9 support for the Endeavour voyage, 38, 137 Goodenough, Samuel, 15, 295 Gore, John, 57, 75, 82, 89, 113, 121, 122, 164 Great Britain hopes for diplomatic relations with China, 192–3 post-American Revolution, 279–80

Great South Sea Caterpillar, The (James Gillray), xv, 290, Plate 39 Green, Charles, 45, 68, 69, 101 Greenslade, William, 73, 102 Gregory, Olinthus, 328 Grenville, Henry, 5 Grenville, HMS, 30 Grenville, Louise, 6 Grenville, Thomas, 178 Grenville, William Wyndham, 6 Greville, Charles, 307 Greville, Colonel Robert Fulke, 184, 253–4, 259 Halley, Sir Edmund, 36–7 Harrow School, 9–10 Hasted, Edward, 32 Hatchett, Charles, 293, 294 Hawke, Sir Edward, 42–3, 44, 50 Hawkesworth, Dr John, 87, 145, 173, Plate 9 Hawley, Dr James, 5 Hebridean voyage see Iceland expedition Herball of Generall Historie of Plantes, The (John Gerard), 9, 13, Plate 4 herbarium sheets, 53 Herschel, Caroline, 275–6, 331 Herschel, William, 275–6, 281, 331 reflector telescope, 276, Plate 34 Hervey, Augustus John, 44 Hicks, Zachary, 57, 112, 130 Hints Respecting the Cultivation and the Use of Potatoes, 286 Home, Sir Everard, 12–13 Honourable East India Company (HEIC) cochineal, 214 Hon’ble Company’s Botanic Garden, Calcutta, 190–1, 213–14, 321 interests in Australia, 247 James Lee and, 187 Nopalry, 190 overtures to Banks, 172 plant collectors and, 189 and produce from Australia, 249–50 quid pro quo arrangement with Banks and Kew, 189–92 Saint Helena garden, 190 tea trade, 215 trading factory, Canton, 191–2, 202 Hooker, Sir Joseph Dalton, 137, 138, 210, 211, 329, 334–5 Hooker, William, 170, 171, 211, 322, 323 Hooper, James, 193, 324 Hope, Professor John, 23 Hornemann, Friedrich, 300 Hornsby, Thomas, 37

362

INDEX Horsley, Dr Samuel, 267 Horticultural Society of London, 211, 299 Hortus Kewensis, 186, 207, 222, 248, 321 Houghton, Major Daniel, 299 Houtou de La Billardière, Jacques-Julien, 273–4 Hove, Anton Pantaleon, 197 Hugessen, Dorothea, 227, 321–2 Hugessen, Mary, 228 Humboldt, Alexander von, 230 Hume, David, 18, 160, 177 Hutton, Dr Charles, 266–7, 271, 328 Iceland expedition arrival in Iceland, 166–7 ascent of Mount Hekla, 167–8, 170, Plate 21 Banks as a future protector of, 169–72, 320 Fingal’s Cave, 166, 169, Plate 20 geo-political impact, 170–2 the Hebridean Islands, 164–6 journal, 162–3 in Orkney and Edinburgh, 169 previous scientific studies of, 163 proposed voyage to, 162–3 Remarks Concerning Iceland, 170, 320 taxa collected, 169–70 team and equipment, 163–4 volcanoes, 163 Icones Selectae Plantarum, quas in Japonica, 223 Illustrationes Florae Novae Hollandiae, 248, 321 India Great Trigonometrical Survey, 284 hemp trade, 216 Hon’ble Company’s Botanic Garden, Calcutta, 190–1, 213–14, 321 tea trade, 215 indigenous peoples Australian Aboriginals, 112, 113–15, 122–3 Ma¯’ohi people, Tahiti, 74–5, 76–81, 83–4, 85–9, 91–3, 174–5 the Ona, Tierra del Fuego, 67–8, Plate 11 see also Ma¯ori peoples Jacobite Rebellion, 3, 4 Japan, 199, 212 Jardin Royal des Plantes, Paris, 184–5 Johnson, Dr Samuel, 153, 314–16, Plate 40 journals/Banks, Sir Joseph Account of New Zealand, 111–12, 151–2 after Banks’s death, 333–4 on Australia, 112, 113–15, 119–20, 124 Endeavour journal, 136, 138, 329, 334–5 of the Endeavour voyage, 56, 58–60, 64, 67–8, 71–2, 130–1 Iceland, 335

idiosyncrasies of spelling and grammar, 26, 58 Journal of an Excursion to Eastbury and Bristol etc. in May and June 1767, 33–4 ‘Manners & Customs of S. Sea Islands’, 74, 86, 96 Newfoundland voyage, 26–7, 333–4 personal emotions in, 102, 129–30 publication of, 136 ‘Some account of Batavia’, 128–9 ‘Some account of the Cape of Good Hope’, 130 Journal of a Voyage round the World, A…, 58, 145 kangaroo, 116, 121, 122 Kent, William, 181 Kerr, William, 203–4, 322 Kerria japonica, 204 Kew Gardens see Royal Botanic Garden at Kew King George III’s Island, 48 Knight, Richard Payne, 17, 313 Knight, Thomas Andrew, 307–9, 322 König, Johann Gerhard, 163, 190 Kyd, Lieutenant-Colonel Robert, 190, 191 Lance, David, 202–3 Ledyard, John, 296 Lee, James, 25, 29, 55, 143, 148, 187, 196 Leeward Islands, 93 Leptospermum genus, 117 Lincolnshire County Ordnance Survey, 327 Lind, Dr James, 151, 157, 164, 169 Linnaean Society, 271, 272, 294–6 Linnaeus, Carl Banks’s hopes to visit, 34 and the binomial system, 18, 21, 180 binominal system of classification, 21, 180 collection of, 136, 295 desire to see the Endeavour collection, 140, 149 former pupils of, 18, 163, 185, 187, 194 Pennant’s correspondence with, 17 publications, 54, 134 Linnaeus, Carl the Younger, 117, 295 Literary Club (‘The Club’), 312, 314–16, Plate 40 Livingston, John, 203, 204 Lockhart, David, 206–7 Loureiro, João de, 30–1, 223 Lucas, Simon, 298–9 Lunar Society of Birmingham, 281, 288 Lyons, Israel, 16 Macarthur, John, 245, 255–8, Plates 31, 32 MacKenzie, Daniel, 180, 223

363

INDEX Macquarie, Lachlan, 250, 251 Madeira, 60–1 Mai, 225 mangroves, 105, 106, 117 Manley, Isaac, 57 Ma¯ori peoples artefacts brought back from, 152 Banks’s observations of, 100–1 cannibalism, 107, 108 cloaks, 151–2 hostile encounters with, 101–3, 105, 107, Plate 15 pa¯ (fortified village), 101, 105–6 peaceful encounters with, 104 Martyn, John, 16 Maskelyne, Rev. Dr Nevil disagreement with Charles Green, 46–7 funding for chronometers, 277, 278 Herschel’s discovery of Uranus, 275 relations with Banks, 276, 278 at a Royal Society dinner, 268, 269, 270 transit of Venus, 37, 47, 48 Mason, Charles, 37 Masson, Francis, 194–5, 205, 207, 327, Plate 26 Matra, James Mario, 58, 86, 145, 234–5 Mendoza y Ríos, José de, 318 Menzies, Archibald, 98, 199–202, 211, Plate 27 Miller, James, 150, 180 Miller, John Frederick, 146, 150, 180 Miller, Philip, 16, 19, 21, 32, 135, 185 Molyneux, Robert, 57, 58, 70, 75, 88, 130 Monkhouse, William, 30, 68, 69, 88–9, 90, 120, 128 Montagu, John see Sandwich, John Montagu, fourth earl of Moon, Alexander, 204–5 Morton, James Douglas, fourteenth earl of, 39, 42, 48, 62, 89 Mulgrave, Lord see Phipps, Hon. Constantine John Murray, Sir John, 187 ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’, xv, 220, Plates 13, 28 natural history as Banks’s chosen career, 33, 34 Banks’s horticultural research, 309–11 Britain as a scientific nation, 149 France as a scientific nation, 137 ship-based natural history research, 32, 39–40, 137, 149 Nelson, David, 196, 217, 220 Nelson, Horatio, 172 Nepean, Sir Evan, 235, 240 New Burlington Street, London, 33, 132, 139, 144

New South Wales colony Banks’s oversight of the new colony, 239–40, 249, 251, 319 Banks’s support for the establishment of, 178, 231–4, 235 and Britain’s global colonial interests, 237 economic contributions from, 233, 242, 249–50, 251 governance model for, 236–7, 249 the indigenous peoples of, 239, 241 plant hunters in, 241, 242–3, 251–2 plants and seeds for, 241–2, 244, 245 Port Jackson settlement, 238, Plate 30 Rum Rebellion, 244–5, 258 selection of Botany Bay, 197, 231–6 transportation to, 251 wool industry, 255–8 New Zealand Anaura Bay, 104–5 Banks’s land based explorations, 100 Bay of Islands, 107 Bay of Plenty, 105–6 circumnavigation of, 100 flax, 100, 104, 138, 151, 236 proximity to New South Wales, 236 South Island, 109–10 taxa collected, 99–100, 104–5, 106–7, 108–9, 110 see also Ma¯ori peoples Newfoundland and Labrador Banks’s herbarium sheets, 25, 32 Banks’s hopes for the expedition to, 25, 31 Banks’s journal, 26–7 fishing conflicts in, 24 Fort York, Chateau Bay, 28, Plate 6 James Cook in, 30 McGill Manuscript, 25, 31–2 specimens from, 31–2 voyage to Newfoundland, 27–30 Nicholls, Henry, 302, 319 Niger, HMS, 24, 27, 30, 42 Northwest Passage voyage, 325–7, 328 marine chronometer, 278, Plate 35 Prince Regent’s Bay, Plate 43 ‘Oberea Cycle’, 174–5 orchids 63, 80, 105, 205, 311 Ordnance Survey of the United Kingdom, 282–4 of Lincolnshire, 327 Outlines of a Plan of Defernce against French Invasion, 289 Oxford University, 151 Oxley, John, 251

364

INDEX palms 62, 105, 113, 190 palm wine, 127 paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera), 104, 107, 133 Park, Mungo second voyage to West Africa, 210, 301–2 Travels in the Interior of Africa, 300, Plate 36 voyage to Sumatra, 299–300 Parkinson, Stansfield, 143–5 Parkinson, Sydney on Botany Bay, 232 on the Endeavour voyage, 49, 80, 89, 116, 127, 135, Plate 15 paintings from Newfoundland, 25–6, 32 salary, 52 self-portrait, Plate 14 settlement of the estate of, 143–5 parrots, 104, 219 Parsons, John, 15, 17 Paterson, Colonel William, 240–1, 243, 244, 255 Peace of Paris, 279, 282 penguins, 28, 66 Pennant, Thomas, 17–18, 33, 34–5, 45, 139, 141, 143, 169 peregrinations botanising excursion to Wales, 172 exploring Industrial Britain, 35, 288 information-gathering trip to the Netherlands, 172 in the West, 33–5 Perrin, William, 11, 15, 17, 28, 38, 44 Phillip, Arthur, 237, 241 Phillip, Thomas, 318 Phipps, Hon. Constantine John at Eton, 11 in Lisbon, 31 naval career, 24–5 Newfoundland expedition, 25, 26, 27 North Polar Expedition, 172–3 philosopher David, 22 Society of Dilettanti, 312 support for Banks, 44 pines, 124, 211, 310 Pitt, William the Elder, 11 Pitt, William the Younger, 6, 202, 236, 278, 279–80, 285, 289 plant cabins, 188, 200, 203, 218, 220, 240 plant hunters in America, 199–202, 211 in Australia, 206, 241, 242–3, 251–2, 323 Banks’s detailed instructions to, 217–20, 306 Banks’s plant hunting programme for Kew, 193–4 in China, 203–4, 211–12, 322, 324

for commercial nurseries, 212 for commodity plants, 199–202, 213 in Iceland, 322 in Japan, 212 job description, 195–7 in New South Wales, 242–3, 251–2 for private individuals, 212 in South Africa, 194, 195, 205–6, 207, 241, 323, 327 in South America, 202, 205–6, 323 in Zaire (Congo), 206–7 see also commodity plants plantain, 76, 82, 84, 121, 217, 244 Plants from the Coast of Coromandel, 223, 321 polar bears, 27, 172–3 Portugal, 30, 31 Priestley, Joseph, 150–1, 179 Primitiae Florae Novae Zelandiae, 110, 135 Pringle, Sir John, 140, 261–2 prison hulks, 231, 234 Privy Council, 291–2, 319 Prodromus Florae Novae Hollandiae et Insulae Van Diemen, 248, 321 Project for extending the breed of fine-wooled Spanish sheep, A…, 320 publications on Australia, 321 of the correspondence with Knight, 309 Florilegium, non-publication of, 180–1 A Project for extending the breed of fine-wooled Spanish sheep., 320 Remarks Concerning Iceland,, 170, 320 Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London, 308, 310–11, 314, 320 see also journals/Banks, Sir Joseph Purea, 87–9, 92, 174–5 see also ‘Oberea Cycle’ quninine (cinchona), 28, 128, 207, 303 Raffles, Sir Stamford, 189 Ramsden, Jesse, 277, 282 Ramsden theodolite, 283–4, Plate 37 Resolution, HMS, 148, 151, 154–5, 198, 217 Revesby Abbey, 4, 7, 17, 34, 153, 227, 228, Plate 2 Revesby estate agricultural improvements to, 5, 7–8, 177–8, 287, 320 under Joseph Banks, 17, 33, 34 purchase of, 3 storm damage to trees, 322 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 12, 152, 225, 312, 313, 314, 315, Plate 19 Richmond, Thomas, 69–70

365

INDEX Rio de Janeiro the Endeavour voyage in, 62–5 Kew’s plant hunters in, 205 plants for the Botany Bay colonisation, 238 Roberts, James, 49, 130, 132 roses Rosa banksiae (Banks’ rose), 204 Rosa blanda (smooth rose), 32, Plate 7 Rosa bracteate (Macartney rose), 192 Roxburgh, Dr William, 190, 191, 203, 222, 223, 242, 321 Roy, Lieutenant-Colonel William, 282 Royal Botanic Garden at Kew Banks as the unofficial supervisor of, 183–4, 303, 318, 323 as a centre of economic botany, 212–13 Cinchona seeds, 207 early renown of, 182–3 establishment of, 181–3 funding for, 209–10 glasshouses and hothouses, 195 Hortus Kewensis, 186, 207, 222, 248, 321 Icelandic lava rock, 170, 183 informal donations to, 186–9 Kew-trained botanists in colonial gardens, 213–14 lack of research facilities, 184–5 palm-like cycad, 327, Plate 44 Physic or Exotic Garden, 182 Plan of the Royal Manor of Richmond (Peter Burrell), Plate 24 plant hunters for, 193–7, 205, 209–11 plant hunters in America, 199–202, 211 plant hunters in China, 203–4, 211–12 plant hunters in South America, 202, 205–6 plant hunters in Zaire (Congo), 206–7 plants from Australia, 248 policy of global plant hunting, 138 policy of sharing new plants, 207–9 published outcome of the Kew collection, 222–3 quid pro quo arrangement with the HEIC, 189–92 seeds for Port Jackson, 241 specimens from Australia, 202 specimens from Sri Lanka, 204–5 specimens from Timor, Tahiti, Saint Vincent and Jamaica, 222 taxa collection, 207 the White House (Kew House), 181, 182 William Aiton as the first Head Gardener, 182, 185–6, 197 Royal Geographical Society of London, 296 Royal Horticultural Society, 306–8

Royal Institution of Great Britain, 303–6 Royal Mint, 293–4, 319 Royal Observatory Greenwich, 274–5, 282–3, 319 Royal Smithfield Club, 287 Royal Society Banks as politically impartial, 262–3, 273 Banks as the president of, 227, 260, 262–3, 264–6, 319, 327–8, Plate 41 Banks’s fellowship of, 27, 140 Banks’s presidential legacy, 278–9 competition from other societies, 294–5 Copley Medal, 265, 275, 309 a dinner to celebrate the Elector Palatine, 268–70 the Dissensions, 266–8, 276 founding of, 260–1 lightning conductors dispute, 261–2 move to Somerset House, 265–6 observation of the transit of Venus, 36–8, 39, 48 opposition to Banks’s presidency, 263–4, 266–8, 270–2 oversight of the Royal Observatory, 274–6 Philosophical Transactions, 48, 194, 290, 308–9, 314 reaction to Banks’s entry into Institut National des Sciences et des Artes, 272–3 Rumford Medal, 304 selection of Banks for the transit of Venus expedition, 42–6, 48–9 ship-based natural history research, South Seas, 39–40 ties with the monarchy, 261, 263, 279 Royal Society Cook Medal, 265 Salis, Rev. Henry Jerome de, 55 Sandwich, John Montagu, fourth earl of character of, 24 as first lord of the Admiralty, 25, 38 friendship with Banks, 21–2, 43–4, 141, 151, 156, 217, 263 handling of the Resolution refit, 154, 155–6 HMS Endeavour and 138, Plate 9 liking for female company, 25, 160 and the Newfoundland voyage, 25 promotion of James Cook, 147 Society of Dilettanti, 312 Saussure, Horace Bénédict de, 55 Savu, 126–7 Scoresby Junior, William, 325 Scott, Robert Falcon, 137 seals, 29, 30, 66, 68, 249 second voyage of discovery

366

INDEX Banks’s withdrawal from, 155, 157, 162 hopes for a second expedition, 146–8, 153 team and equipment, 149–51 sheep farming Banks’s interest in cross-breeding Merino sheep, 252–4 Merinos in the royal flock, 253–4, 257, 258, 259, 320 Society for the Improvement of British Wool, 284 Spanish Merino sheep, 253, 255, 258–9, Plate 32 wool industry, Australia, 255–8 Sheffield, Rev. William, 132–4 Short Account of the Cause of the Disease in Corn…, 286, 311 Sibelius, Gerard, 180 Sibthorp, Dr Humphry, 15, 16, 18, 34 Sierra Leone Company (SLC), 188–9, 303 Simpling Macaroni, The (Matthew Darly), 173 Sinclair, Sir John, 284, 285 Sir Joseph Banks’s Protest, 278 slavery, 131, 178–9, 188–9, 217 Sloane, Sir Hans, 17, 19 Smeaton, John, 287–8 Smith, Christopher, 214–15, 222 Smith, Sir James Edward, 295, 296, 328 Smith, William ‘Strata,’ 288, Plate 38 Society for Promoting Natural History, 295–6 Society for the Promotion of Animal Chemistry, 294 Society of Antiquaries of London, 22–3, 314 Society of Civil Engineers, 287–8 Society of Dilettanti, 312–13, Plate 33 Solander, Dr Daniel botanical manuscripts, 134, 135 in Britain, 18–19 congeniality of, 99 death of, 180, 185 on Dorothea Hugessen, 227 on the Endeavour voyage, 49–50, 60, 115, 116, 117, 127, 131–2 experience in Lapland, 25, 34 friendship with Banks, 19–20 honorary degree from Oxford University, 151 on the Iceland expedition, 162, 166, 169 ill health of, 128, 130 lampooned, 173, Plate 18 membership of the Lunar Society, 281 near death experience in Tierra del Fuego, 68–9 Plantae Australiae, 123–4 position at the British Museum, 19 as possible intelligence agent, 19 post-voyage fame, 140–1, Plate 9

Primitiae Florae Novae Zelandiae, 110 as pupil of Carl Linnaeus, 18 in Rio de Janeiro, 62–3 the second voyage, 150 specimens from the Leeward Islands, 93 unpublished plant descriptions, 135 South Africa the Endeavour voyage in Cape Town, 130 plant hunters in, 194, 195, 205–6, 207, 241, 323, 327 South America, 202, 205 Spain Merino sheep, 253, 255, 258–9 monopoly on carmine dye, 214 in North America, 24, 199, 237 Species Plantarum, 54, 134 Spöring Jr, Herman, 49, 54, 89, 129, 135 Spring Grove, 227–8, 253, 311 Banks’s death at, 328 horticultural research, 309–10, 311, 320 mushroom house, 311 Queen Charlotte at, 323–4 spruce, 29, 211 Sri Lanka, 204–5, 322, 323 Staunton, Sir George, 192 Stapelia Nova, 223 Stephens, Philip, 18, 44 Stephensen, Ólafur, 169, 171 stratigraphic geology, 288, Plate 38 Stuart, John, third earl of Bute, 19, 24 sugarcane, 82, 236 Suttor, George, 233–4, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246 Sweden, 34, 36 sweet potato (umara), 82, 104 Tahiti accounts of the Ma¯’ohi people’s sexual behaviours, 85–9, 173–5 Banks’s relations with the Ma¯’ohi people, 80, 91–3, 100–1 breadfruit see breadfruit colonisation of, 76 first encounter, 48, 76 mapping of, 89–90 Matavai Bay, 48, 74, 78, Plate 12 mis-personification of Pacific women, 174–5 observation of the transit of Venus, 48, 79–80, 81, 89–90 Queen Purea see Purea relations with the Ma¯’ohi people, 74–5, 76–81 taro, 82, 104, 121 taxa collected Australia, 115–17, 121, 123–4, 125 binomial system for classification of, 18, 21, 180

367

INDEX from the Endeavour voyage, 60, 65, 67, 71, 80, 134 Florilegium, non-publication of, 180–1 Iceland expedition, 169–70 New Zealand, 99–100, 104–5, 106–7, 108–9, 110 from Newfoundland, 32 in Sumatra, 300 Tayeto, 92, 103, 128 tea industry, 192, 215–16 Thompson, Benjamin (Count von Rumford), 304, 305, 306 Thunberg, Carl, 194 tiger lily (Lilium lancifolium), 204, 208 tinned meat, 327 Town and Country Magazine, 21, 158–60, 173 Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London, 308–11, 320 transit of Venus, 36–8, 39, 48, 79–80 Travels in the Interior of Africa, 300, Plate 36 Treaty of Paris, 24 Troil, Uno von, 162, 164, 169 Tuckey, James Hingston, 206, 324 Tupaia, 83, 88, 92–3, 101, 102, 103, 114, 128 Vancouver, Captain George, 98, 197–8, 200, 201–2 Vancouver expedition Banks’s involvement in, 198–9, 200

colonisation agenda of, 200–1 exploration of America’s northwest coast, 197–8 as exploration voyage, 200 Menzies as the botanist for, 199–202 Vandelli, Domingo, 30, 31 Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, A, 198 vulcanology, 163 Wales, William, 150 Wallich, Nathaniel, 191 Walpole, Horace, 5, 163–4, 182, 230 Wedgwood, John, 306–7 cameos, Plate 22 Wells, Sarah, 227 West, Benjamin, 151 West Indies, 213, 221 White, Gilbert, 18 Wilberforce, William, 179, 188–9, 304 Wiles, James, 213, 222 Woodford, John Alexander, 273, 274 wool industry see sheep farming yam (uhi), 82, 104 Young, Edward, 10 Zaire (Congo) expedition, 206–7 Zoffany, John, 150, 163–4, 187, Plate 1

368