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Oliver Impey; Arthur MacGregor (Editors). The Origins of Museums: The Cab-
inet of Curiosities in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Europe. xiii + 335 pp.,
illus., bibl., index. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985. $105.
Because the knowledge of Nature is very necessarie to humane life, health, & the
conveniences thereof, & because that knowledge cannot be soe well & usefully at-
tain'd, except the history of Nature be knowne and considered;and to this [end], is
requisite the inspection of Particulars,especially those as are extraordinaryin their
Fabrick, or useful in Medicine, or applyedto Manufactureor Trade:I Elias Ashmole,
out of my affection to this sort of Learning, wherein my self have takem& still doe
take the greatest delight;for which cause also, I have amass'd together great variety
of naturalConcretes& Bodies, & bestowed them on the University of Oxford,where-
in my selfe have been a Student & of which I have the honor to be a Member.
(Quoted in Impey and MacGregor,p. 152.)
science would be well advised to read more broadly in the other essays on spe-
cific collections in, say, Basel or Milan, for mineralogicaland zoological collect-
ing almost never occurred in isolation from accumulationof other sorts of ob-
jects, both naturaland artificial.Even collections devoted almost exclusively to
naturalhistory, like that of ConradGesner in Zurich, owed much in their inspira-
tion, orientation,and organizationto the more encyclopedic collections.
Who collected what, when, where, and why? Although the cabinets of the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries stem from a common source, the treasuries
(Schatzkammern)of medieval monarchs and churches, these essays testify to
their branching diversity. Renaissance humanism endowed Roman and Greek
antiquitieswith a certaincachet; ethnographicitems from both the West and East
Indies complementedthose from nearby Turkey and Lapland;technical innova-
tions in the lathe produced objects of labyrinthineintricacy; the post-Vesalian
vogue for anatomy conjoined with the popular "Vanitas"theme posed skeletons
in arrestingmemento mori tableaux;new and mythicalcreatureslike the unicorn
and the equally wondrous bird of paradise were representedby a claw or horn;
fruits and flowers from far-off lands bloomed in the decorative gardens and grot-
toes so often attached to the cabinets. These new categories swelled the older
treasuries of gold, gems, relics, and the occasional secular marvel-it was not
unusual for churches to hang up "giants'bones" by the entrance to boost atten-
dance-and linked collecting to learningand connoisseurshipas well as wealth.
By 1600 aristocrats, professors, and, particularlyin the Netherlands and south-
ern Germany, merchants, lawyers, and doctors of means were avid for fossils,
antique coins, coral, chinoiserie, ostrich eggs, bits of the true cross,6 South
American featherwork, cherrystones artfully carved with a hundred facets or
more, portraits of historical personages, scientific instruments of handsome
workmanship,monstersboth animaland human, and "Any thing that Is Strang,"
as the Duke of Buckinghaminstructed his purchasingagent Balthasar Gerbier
(quoted in MacGregor,p. 20).
What did all of these objects have in common, to make them so coveted? The
collections were miscellanies, but they were not arbitrarymiscellanies; only a
very few objects qualified for membership. The lowest common denominator
was value: indeed, the contents of the cabinets could be read as incarnatingthe
history of economic theories of value. Gems, gold, and silver exemplified value
derived from precious materials;exotica and naturalhistory oddities exemplified
value derived from rarityor dearth;works of craft virtuosityexemplifiedvalue as
crystallized labor. Diverse as the objects were, they were alike in all being pre-
cious and suited for trumpetingor raising the owner's status. Although Nehe-
miah Grew, cataloguer of the Royal Society collection, hoped for common as
well as rare additions, no one followed his lead, not even the Royal Society itself,
as Michael Hunter shows in his essay on the Royal Society "Repository"(Impey
and MacGregor,pp. 159-168). To have done so would have been to betray the
fundamentalprincipleof collecting.
At another level many of the objects resembled one another in blurringthe
boundarybetween art and natureand in playing on the echoes between one form
and another. Giuseppe Olmi remarkson the typically Manneristjuxtaposition of
6 The attachmentto relics survived the transitionfrom ecclesiastical treasuryto secular cabinet:
the Ashmolean,for example, possessed a piece of St. Augustine'spastoralcrook (Ovenell, p. 37); the
Ambras collection boasted "ain gross schens Stuckh von der Archen Noe," accordingto the 1621
inventory (Sammlungfur Plastik und Kunstgewerbedes KunsthistorischenMuseums, Vienna, No.
6654; and Landesregierungsarchiv fur Tirol, Innsbruck,No. A 40/13). I am gratefulto Dr. Elisabeth
Scheicherfor makinga typescriptof partof this manuscriptinventoryavailableto me. Relics related
to famous persons (e.g., the stirrupsof Henry VIII) also turnup in many collections.
ophy" (1.5), but they were not necessarily thus reproaches to philosophers. Al-
though we identify stupefiedwonder with the untutoredlayman, in the sixteenth
and early seventeenth centuries it was still a suitable response for the scholar as
well. As WilliamSchupbachpoints out aproposof the cabinet associated with the
physic garden at Pisa, "wonderwas a proper reaction for the learned as well as
the uninstructed:wonder, paraphrasedperhaps as inquisitive delight in novelty,
mingled with awe and gratitude,was part of the naturalhistory and naturalphi-
losophy of the time" (Impey and MacGregor,p. 170). Writingin the mid-seven-
teenth century, Descartes was considerably more wary of the excesses of
wonder, but he still made it the first of the passions and the fount of all science.
It was in the pursuit of wonder (and perhapsin the flightfrom boredom)that the
deliberatediversity of the objects in the cabinets found its rationale.
The motives for collecting were nearly as diverse as the objects collected. In
the case of royalty and noblementhe cabinets served the ends of princely display
of wealth and splendor. Olmi traces the transformationof the private studiolo of
Francesco I de'Medici into the dramaticallypublic Uffizi gallery when Francesco
became the GrandDuke of Tuscany, for "his deeds and the power of his family
had constantly to be exposed to the eyes of all, and to be strongly impressed on
the mind of every subject" (Impey and MacGregor,p. 10). The Ambras, Prague,
and Munich collections followed this latter model, albeit with less flamboyance.
The privacy suggested by the very word cabinet also had its adherents, as
Francis Bacon makes clear in his recommendationsfor setting up library,garden,
menagerie, cabinet, and laboratory, thus "to have in small compass a model of
universal nature made private" (Gesta Grayorum, 1594; quoted in Impey and
MacGregor, p. 1). But privacy gave way to publicity in the early seventeenth
century, when collections gave the wealthy bourgeois a boost up the social lad-
der. Their cabinets not only emulatedthose of aristocratsand princes; they pro-
vided an occasion for rubbing shoulders with the same. A famous collection
could draw crowned heads to one's doorstep for a tour, and publishedcatalogues
were often frank advertising, sent to various celebrities. Occasionallythe strata-
gem was wildly successful, as in the case of Robert Hubert, alias Forges, whose
collection was eventually purchasedby the Royal Society: in his publishedcata-
logue of 1664 he could boast of "things that hath been seen by Emperors, Em-
presses, Kings and Queens and many other sovereign princes" (quoted in Impey
and MacGregor,p. 153). Hubert's collection was aggressivelypublic, but private
collections were also open to visitors with the proper pedigree. Not only the
leisure and wherewithal but also the eruditionrequiredto assemble a must-see
cabinet were social ornaments,a recognized part of polite learning.10
The cabinets specializing in naturalobjects constitute a separate but not en-
tirely distinct category. Here "useful in medicine", as Ashmole put it, was key,
although "extraordinaryin their Fabrick"could also have been their motto. The
vast majority of both private and institutionalnaturaliacollections were linked
in some way to medicine. Ulisse Aldrovandi, Olaus Worm, Conrad Gesner of
Zurich, Michele Mercati of Rome, and Felix Platterof Basel were all physicians
by training; Francesco Calceolari of Verona and Ferrante Imperato of Naples
both owned pharmacies. The physic garden and the anatomy theater were the
primary loci of university collections, as in Pisa, Leyden, and Oxford. These
were primarily reference collections for naturalists, physicians, apothecaries,
and students, and their catalogues at least, if not the actual displays, aimed at
systematization by the biological canons of the day, as H. D. Schlepern points
out in the case of Worm and Olmi in that of Aldrovandi(Impey and MacGregor,
pp. 127, 7).
However, these collections also partook of the general culture of collecting.
Almost all contained artificialiaas well as naturalia,usually but not always with
an emphasis on exotica, as in the case of the Worm collection. This emphasis
was partly a financial matter-the gems and orfevrerie of the Schatzkammer
were beyond the means of the averageprofessor or doctor-and perhapspartly a
matter of ambiguous definition. Ethnographicitems and the peoples who made
them, particularlyin the Americas, apparentlystruck some Europeans as closer
to nature than to art."1In any case the Pisa physic garden and attached gallery
boasted Mexican idols, distorting mirrors, and Flemish landscape paintings in
additionto materiamedica (includingbezoars and unicornhorns, both reputedto
be effective against poisons), animalremains, and "a petrifiedhuman skull with
coral growingout of it"; the Leyden physic gardenincluded a banknotefrom the
siege of the city and a Sinhalese medical book, as well as a polar bear, a hippo-
potamus, and various Brazilianobjects; Aldrovandicollected clocks and sculp-
tures as well as plants and animals. The arrangementof the naturaliacabinets
was barely distinguishablefrom that of the more compendiouscabinets of curio-
sities, with objects overflowingfrom cupboardsonto walls and ceiling and pro-
miscuously mixed to display nature's (and art's) fecundity and ingenuity to best
advantage(see Figure 3).
These specialized collections were permeable not only to the influence of a
more eclectic culture of cabinets; they also registeredthat of the ambientculture
10See, e.g., Henry Peacham, The CompleatGentleman,2nd ed. (London, 1634),p. 64; see also
Schlosser, Die Kunst- und Wunderkammern (cit. n. 4), pp. 218-219.
" See, e.g., Robert Boyle, "GeneralHeads for the NaturalHistory of a Country,Great or Small,
DrawnOut for the Use of Travellersand Navigators"(1692),in The Worksof the HonourableRobert
Boyle, ed. ThomasBirch, 5 vols. (London, 1744),Vol. V, pp. 191-197,esp. p. 192.
facts from their fascination with anomalies, their deliberate severing of connec-
tions by display, and their obsession with the brute "thing-ness"of the objects.
The fragmentarysyntax of the travelers' accounts and of the inventories-"mys-
terious padlocks . .. Stones which represent Trees, Fruits, Shells, and Animals
the Horn of an Oxe. which is almost six inches in diameter"24-mirrored
both the theoretical and physical isolation of the items listed. The mummy and
the winged cat placed next to it had as little to do with one anotheras either had
to do with explanationsof any kind whatsoever. Bacon transformedthis splendid
aesthetic isolation into splendid scientific isolation; this is why the first facts
were marvels.
Bacon's legal trainingmay also have played its part in this transformation.The
word fact derives from the Latinfacere, "to do" (cf. Frenchfait; German Tat-
sache), and the Oxford English Dictionary informs us that in the sixteenth cen-
tury the word still meant an action or deed, particularlya crime, a meaningnow
preserved in the legal phrase "after the fact." Bacon himself used the word in
this manner, and more specifically to denote a deed with legal issue. By empha-
sizing workmanship,both of nature and of art, the cabinets of curiosities may
have impartedto their treasures an element of the activity and performancein-
herent in the root meaning of the word. (One of the contemporary senses of
curiosity was "proficiency attained by careful application," with similar over-
tones of scrupulous, skillful labor.) Bacon was more likely to have been directly
influenced by the "facts" of legal evidence, based on personal observation or
unimpeachablewitness, which were presumed independent of the interests of
both sides of the case. These etymological filiations must remain speculative;
what can be established is that the more familiar sense of fact as "a datum of
experience, as distinguishedfrom the conclusions that may be based upon it,"
emerges in English only in the early decades of the seventeenth century, contem-
porary with Bacon's own writings.
We must bear in mind how novel the notion of neutralfacts was when it was
introduced. Sophisticated seventeenth-centuryphilosophers of science were no
more comfortable with it than sophisticated twentieth-centuryphilosophers of
science. AlthoughDescartes saw a role for experimentin naturalphilosophy, he
only trusted his own and those performedat his instance, because those of others
were badly explained or false, obliged as they were to make the results "conform
to their principles."25Bacon may have been the father of facts in naturalphilos-
ophy, but he thoughtthey were hardwon. His method as set forth in the Novum
organumis principallya way of combatingthe mind's naturaltendency to leap to
conclusions prematurelyand to refract all experience througha theoretical lens.
Avoiding abstract terms, weighting negative instances as heavily as positive
ones, and patiently compiling and sifting through tables-all these techniques
were meant to discipline minds bent on infusingobservationwith theory. Unvar-
nished facts did not come naturally;it took trainingand tricks.
Somethingas strikingand intractableas the cabinet anomalieswas requiredto
make the idea conceivable. Robert Boyle's experimentalcreed and John Locke's
nominalist philosophy broadened and established it only with difficulty.26Facts
23
For Bacon's links to this traditionsee KatharineParkand LorraineJ. Daston, "UnnaturalCon-
ceptions: The Study of Monstersin Sixteenth-and Seventeenth-CenturyFranceand England,"Past
and Present, 1981, 92:20-54, esp. pp. 43-46.
24 Maximilian Misson, A New Voyage to Italy: With Curious Observations on Several Other Coun-
tries, as, Germany, Switzerland, Savoy, Flanders, and Holland (London, 1699), p. 113.
25 Rene Descartes, Discours de la me'thode (1637),in Oeuvres (cit. n. 20), Vol. VI, p. 73.
26
Steven Shapin and Simon Schaffer, Leviathan and the Air Pump: Hobbes, Boyle, and the Exper-
imentalLife (Princeton,N.J.: PrincetonUniv. Press, 1985).
Experimental probability
Allan Franklin. The Neglect of Experiment. xiii + 290 pp., figs., index. Cam-
bridge/London/NewYork: CambridgeUniversity Press, 1986. $42.50.
For years philosophershave been praising,then burying, experiments. Until the
1950s it was popular to grant observation a primaryrole in the generation and
testing of theories; in the later 1950s and 1960s critics wanted to topple the au-
thority of experiments by exposing them as "theory contaminated"or "theory
laden." Whether attacking or defending observation, both sides ignored the
nitty-grittyof laboratorywork. More recently, historians, sociologists, and phi-
losophers have tackled the problemof the function of experimentwith consider-
ably more attentionto practice-some want to bolster a realism about subvisible
entities, some wish to establish experimental conclusions as "social construc-
tions," while others seek to explore the effects of theoretical orientations. To-
gether these studies have made the history and philosophy of experimentation
one of the most exciting recent lines of inquiryin the history of science.
Allan Franklin'sinterest in these problemstakes several forms. Above all, he
hopes to reveal the quirky byways of modern physical experimentationwhile
salvaging the notion that there is a rationality to the laboratory-basedchoice
between theories. The historicalcore of TheNeglect of Experimentis an analysis
of a fascinating set of particle physics experiments conducted in the 1950s and
1960s on parity conservation and its generalization,charge-parityconservation
(in addition Franklinconsiders some earlier studies, includingRobert Millikan's
oil-drop experiment). Each set of investigations destroyed a deeply held belief
about physical laws. Of these, Franklin'sbest and most dramaticstudy sketches