This post is derived from an article published on the Smithsonian Libraries’ blog. View the original post. 

Pliny, the Elder. Naturalis Historia. 1491. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://s.si.edu/2Ep11Lf.

“Do your reading!” and “Don’t write in your books!” are two oft-echoed directions from schoolteachers. A 1491 edition of Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis Historia, housed in the Smithsonian Libraries’ Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History and recently digitized for the Biodiversity Heritage Library, challenges both of those commands: not only did Pliny write it in such a way that doesn’t necessitate reading it cover to cover, but readers in centuries past have added notes, reactions, and even corrections to every page of the book!

These reader-made notes and symbols are known as marginalia, and in this copy of the Historia, many of them were made in order to make navigating the text as efficient as possible. But the density and the variety of marginalia indicates that at least eight different annotators have added their thoughts to the Cullman’s copy over the course of several centuries, from about 1500-1700.

Unfortunately, due to the loss of evidence resulting from the Historia’s rebinding, the annotators’ identities and relationship to the book remain vague. But understanding—and, in some cases, not understanding—what these annotators were hoping to accomplish in their note-taking offers us some clues to who they were and how they used the book. This, in conjunction with understanding how Pliny intended the Historia to be used, illuminates a period when people didn’t just read books—they interacted with them.

The Summarium. Pliny, the Elder. Naturalis Historia. 1491. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://s.si.edu/2BXFmw4.

In most ways other than its name, the Historia is the first attempt at creating an encyclopedia in the western world—it aspires to be a comprehensive summary of knowledge about a particular subject (the natural world), organized into easily-navigable headings which are laid out in the summarium (a sort of proto-index) at the beginning of the work. In his dedication to the future Roman emperor Titus, Pliny states that he included the summarium “so you [Titus] don’t have to go to the trouble of reading [all thirty-seven books]. And so you will have provided everyone else with the means not to read it through either, instead everyone will look for the particular thing they want and know where to find it.”[1]

But even with all this thinking ahead, the Historia couldn’t please everyone.

In centuries past, attitudes toward books were quite different, both on the part of the author and the reader. Rather than a disruption of authorial intent, many of these reader additions were seen as part of a collaboration over time, resulting in “the production of the best text.”[2]

Marginalia madness: in some places, the notes in the margins are incredibly dense.

Each annotator in the Smithsonian’s copy of the Historia seems to have had their own agenda for their note-making, which shows up in the form and content of their marginalia; this, along with their handwriting and the different inks they used, leads me to surmise that there were eight or more of them. Despite the differences in their marginal styles that make them identifiable as discrete individuals, they employ similar methods of note-making and drawing attention to relevant passages. For example, the annotators used underlining and brackets to highlight passages they saw to be important, or that they wished to discuss further in a longer marginal note. Manicules (Latin for “little hands”) and other symbols of a variety of styles pop up throughout the Historia, and are used in almost the same way that readers use sticky flags in their books today.

Little hands: manicules pointing out important passages.

The nature and content of the marginal notes, indexes, and glosses are what really establish the different annotators as individuals. Although their identities remain unclear at best, they reveal themselves in what they chose to make note of and how they do it; this information has been used to give them nicknames that, while not terribly creative, serve to trace their actions through the text.

For example, the Red Indexer acts exactly as their nickname implies: they have thoroughly indexed the book, pulling out more granular subject headings that are not mentioned in the chapter titles. Following in the Red Indexer’s footsteps is the German, who glosses many—but not all—of the index words as their German equivalent. Understanding that the German glossed the Red Indexer, rather than vice versa, situates the German after the Red Indexer on a time line.

Two other annotators, Faded Red and Sloppy Hand, act as beginning and end points of this timeline: Faded Red’s notes are situated at the extreme edges of the page and have, in some cases, been trimmed away when the book was rebound, while the style of the Sloppy Hand indicates that the annotator was probably working in the early 18th century.

Bracket at work.

Four other annotators occupy the rest of the timeline, but two in particular stand out: Bracket and the Editor. Bracket is responsible for the longest marginal notes, which run the gamut from cross-referencing other works that Pliny has cited, to adding detail about subjects mentioned, and even to drawing diagrams of concepts that Pliny describes. This annotator tends to enclose one side of these notes in a bracket that points back towards the passage being referenced—hence the name. The Editor’s name is self-explanatory too: they have peppered every page of the text with spelling corrections, some of which are so small that they are barely visible.

The Editor reminds you to mind your P’s and Q’s.

But what is interesting about these two annotators is not what we understand about them, but what we do not. Bracket is responsible for the most befuddling note in the text: a grim line from Horace’s Epistles, which when translated reads “the unhoped for hour will be a welcome surprise.”

This is in reference to the inevitability and acceptance of death, which is a heavy topic to refer to in the margin of a chapter about caring for grapes and the diseases of trees. Pliny does not even reference Horace in this chapter, which rules out Bracket’s usual practice of cross-referencing sources. Although its purpose remains mysterious, the fact that Bracket included it gives us a glimpse of other works that they may have been reading at the time, which in turn bolsters our understanding of what texts were available to and being used by literate people.

The Editor’s goal, which at first seems relatively clear, is in fact nearly as ambiguous as Bracket’s reference to Horace: what is the point of being so thorough in making corrections to the text, aside from pedantry? The Cullman’s copy of the Historia was clearly not a working copy, which would have been used for editing purposes in the printing process—the fact that the text is embellished with colorful, hand-finished initials indicates that it was in fact a top-of-the-line book, and not something to be corrected and discarded on the print shop floor.

One correction, though, points to preparation rather than pedantry: a simple suggestion of using an abbreviation rather than the full Latin word quae. It is possible that the Editor was using the Cullman’s Historia to prepare a new edition of the work sometime in the 16th or 17th centuries, and the multitudinous corrections represent their efforts to iron out any mistakes made in this 1491 edition. The suggestion of an abbreviation amongst numerous spelling corrections points to a person who is concerned not only with accurate spelling, but with brevity. Comparing the corrections in this copy to later editions may reinforce this theory, although since the Historia has only rarely been out of print since the 15th century, there will be a lot of material to work through.

Unfortunately, we may never be certain of why the Cullman’s Historia was annotated by so many different people. As it has been rebound at least twice, it has lost a great deal of provenance information, such as bookplates, shelfmarks, or ownership inscriptions. This is one of the reasons why historians treasure marginalia: not only does it reflect the knowledge and interests of the readers making it, it adds precious detail to this book’s individual history. And while we might not know the annotators’ names, their marks, notes, and corrections reveal so much more about them as people than a simple ownership inscription would. Continued research will enable this book, and its annotators, to tell even more of its story.

To facilitate ongoing research and provide greater access to this unique work, the Smithsonian Libraries has digitized the Cullman’s copy of the Historia and made it freely available in the Biodiversity Heritage Library. While digitization allows readers everywhere to study the work’s fascinating marginalia, these annotations also presented quite a digitization challenge.

Smithsonian Libraries’ Digital Imaging Technician Daniel Euphrat had to take special care to avoid losing portions of notations that sometimes trailed into the tightly-bound gutters or extreme edges of a page. Since some marginalia had previously been physically trimmed away, likely during rebinding, staff were careful to avoid any further “trimming” through cropping of pages.

Example of an uncropped image for a page from Naturalis Historia. Notice the marginalia running into the gutter, necessitating careful manual cropping in the post-digitization process to minimize text loss.

During digitization, the book had to be carefully positioned and monitored on a page-by-page basis to make sure that as much text as possible was being captured. Additionally, during the post-digitization process (called “republishing”), the crop-box for each image had to be manually adjusted so that none of the captured text would be accidentally cropped out. Cropping near the gutter was especially difficult because there was very little space between text on the relevant page that needed to be kept in and text from the opposing page that needed to be cropped out for the sake of readability. To fully appreciate the amount of manual processing involved in the post-digitization of this work, take a look at the uncropped image files available on Internet Archive by downloading the “Singe page original jp2 tar” file.

Get a glimpse of the manual processing involved in the post-digitization of Naturalis Historia by downloading the uncropped “single page original JP2 tar” files from Internet Archive.

While manual post-processing work is employed during the digitization of any book, the proliferation of marginalia in this volume added an extra layer of complexity to the digitization of Naturalis Historia. Thanks to the patience and tireless dedication of the staff at Smithsonian Libraries, anyone can now freely access and marvel at the incredible history represented in this natural history treasure.

References

[1] Naturalis Historia, Book 1.
[2] Whitaker, Elaine E. “A Collaboration of Readers: Categorization of the Annotations in Copies of Caxton’s Royal Book 234.” Text Volume 7. (1994): 233-242. P. 234.

First published illustration of a passenger pigeon (Ectopistes migratorius). Pictured with American turkey oak (Quercus laevis). Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 1, ed. 1, pl. 23. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40753186. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26918652441.

In May of 1729, the first part of the first fully illustrated book on the flora and fauna of North America was presented to the Royal Society. Upon the conclusion of the work, Royal Society Secretary Cromwell Mortimer praised it as “the most magnificent Work I know of, since the Art of Printing has been discovered” (Nelson and Elliott, 165).

The work was The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands, and all told it was issued in eleven parts (including an appendix) over an eighteen year period (from 1729-1747). It included 220 plates and accompanying pages of text, a map and account of North America, two indices, a preface, a dedication, and a list of subscribers.

The author of the work was Mark Catesby.

An expansive account of Catesby’s life and work is captured in The Curious Mister Catesby, edited by E. Charles Nelson and David J. Elliott, which received the 2016 CBHL (The Council on Botanical and Horticultural Libraries) Annual Literature Award for Overall Significant Contribution to the Literature of Botany or Horticulture. This work allows us to appreciate the extent of Catesby’s contribution to the study of North American biodiversity.

Mark Catesby was born on 24 March 1682/83 in England (probably in Castle Hedingham, Essex), the (probably) fifth son of John Catesby, a gentleman who became mayor of Sudbury in 1673. When John died in 1703, Mark received a substantial inheritance that included property in Sudbury and London, providing him with a level of security that would allow him to pursue his interest in natural history (Nelson and Elliott, 3-4, hereafter referred to as “N&E;”).

Wood duck (Aix sponsa). Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 1, ed. 1. pl. 97. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40753408. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26987327575.

Catesby first set foot in North America in 1712. Serving as chaperone for his sister Elizabeth, whose husband Dr. William Cocke had arrived in Virginia some two years earlier, Catesby was hosted principally by prominent Virginian citizen William Byrd II during this first visit. Shortly after his arrival, Catesby began collecting plants, specimens of which he sent across the Atlantic to Samuel Dale and Dr. Henry Compton (Bishop of London). During these first several years in America, Catesby also visited Jamaica, Bermuda, Hispaniola, and Puerto Rico (N&E;, 8).

Catesby returned to England in 1719, possibly in response to his brother’s death two years earlier (N&E;, 9). He was, however, determined to return to North America and continue his study of the land’s rich flora and fauna. In 1722, he got his wish. This time, his trip was sponsored by members of the Royal Society, who hoped that he would collect specimens from and generally enhance natural history knowledge about this New World. From 1722-early 1725, Catesby explored and collected in South Carolina. The following year, from 1725-26, Catesby ventured to the Bahamas to continue his research (N&E;, 12-13).

Catesby’s map of Carolina, Florida and the Bahama Islands with the Adjacent Parts.  Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 1, ed. 1. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40753095.

During his time in America, Catesby not only collected specimens, many of which he sent back to England, but he also produced sketches and watercolors of the species he encountered. According to Henrietta McBurney, who wrote a chapter for The Curious Mister Catesby on Mark’s preparatory drawings for Natural History, the challenges of transporting the necessary art equipment into the field probably meant that Catesby made field drawings in pen and ink while traveling through the country and then worked up folio-sized watercolors, which would later be translated to etched plates for his publication, back at his lodgings (N&E;, 143). At all times, Catesby placed great emphasis on portraying each species in as life-like a manner as possible, working from live animals when possible and obtaining fresh supplies of specimens, like fish, whose color and appearance change rapidly after death (N&E;, 145).

Queen angelfish (Holacanthus ciliaris). Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 2, ed. 1, pl. 31. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680191. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26364199924.

In 1726, Catesby left the Bahamas and returned to England with the intention of publishing his accounts and illustrations in “a large folio on a grand, almost unprecedented scale” (N&E;, 155). Leslie K. Overstreet, Curator of Natural History Rare Books at the Smithsonian Libraries, provides an extensive examination of Catesby’s publication within the twelfth chapter of The Curious Mister Catesby.

According to Ms. Overstreet, Catesby opted to print the work at his own expense. Fortunately, his friend Peter Collinson, a Quaker merchant and Fellow of the Royal Society, agreed to lend Catesby funds to support the publication. These funds were not sufficient to cover the cost of expert engravers, so Catesby hired professional artist Joseph Goupy to teach him how to etch so that Catesby could work up the plates for his publication himself (N&E;, 155).

Proposal or prospectus soliciting subscribers for Natural History. Dating from late 1729. Catesby, Mark. The natural history of Carolina, Florida and the Bahama Islands. v. 1, ed. 1. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40753109.

In order to ensure that enough copies of the work would be sold to justify the cost of its production, Catesby solicited subscribers for Natural History. He distributed a prospectus instructing people who wished to obtain a copy of the work to sign up as subscribers (N&E;, 156). The prospectus indicated that he intended to publish the book in parts of 20 plates and accompanying text issued every four months. Subscribers could elect to receive colored plates for two guineas a part or uncolored plates for one guinea per part (N&E;, 159). The prospectus also directed potential subscribers to view his original artwork, which would be featured in the publication, at Thomas Fairchild’s nursery in Hoxton (N&E;, 147).

All told, Catesby’s final version of the “List of the Encouragers” (a list of the work’s subscribers, which, as was customary at this time, are listed within the publication) includes 155 names (N&E;, 159).

Assured that the book would sell, Catesby set about producing the publication, which included not only etching the copper plates and writing the text, but also hand-coloring (maybe not all) the prints as well (N&E;, 158).  Catesby also enlisted a friend, who requested to remain unnamed, to translate the text into French. The final publication included a column of English text alongside a column of French text (N&E;, 13).

Southern flying squirrel (Glaucomys volans) and American persimmon (Diospyros virginiana). Catesby’s squirrel borrowed from drawing by Everhard Kick. Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 2, ed. 1. pl. 76. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680326. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26696533570.

For the plates, Catesby used his own watercolors and also borrowed and included illustrations from other artists. For example, Catesby’s depiction of the southern flying squirrel in plate 76 was borrowed from Dutch artist Everhard Kick (N&E;, 150-151). Artists Georg Dionysius Ehret and George Edwards also contributed drawings to the work (N&E;, 152-153).

Southern magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora). Illustration etched for Catesby by Georg Dionysius Ehret after Ehret’s own watercolor painting. Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 2, ed. 1. pl. 61. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680281. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26901263141

Due to the amount of work required for the publication, Catesby was not able to adhere to his one part every four months plan. However, he continued to steadily produce new parts, which were sent to his subscribers. The first four parts of the work were issued in numerous typesettings, as Catesby was apparently cautious about ordering too many copies of each part (many subscribers signed up over the life of the publication, so Catesby was not working with a fixed number of “Encouragers”), which in turn required him to order additional copies of the early parts as new subscribers signed on. By the fifth part, however, we see only one typesetting, indicating that Catesby was confident enough in his sales that he ordered sufficient quantities to meet demand (N&E;, 160-163).

In 1743, the last part of volume 2 was presented to the Royal Society. Four years later, in 1747, the appendix, consisting of an additional twenty plates and text, was presented, bringing the first edition to completion (N&E;, 158). Approximately 180-200 copies were produced, only about 100 of which survive. There are only a few known perfect copies of this first edition, and of these, only the Smithsonian Libraries’ copy (which is freely available in BHL) contains “all three pieces of ephemera relating to the production of the work” (N&E;, 165).

Eastern mudsnake (Farancia abacura) and pine lily (Lilium catesbaei). Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 2, ed. 1. pl. 58. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680272. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26875557812.

A second edition of Natural History was produced by George Edwards in 1754, five years after Catesby’s death in 1749. This edition is identical to the first, and many copies even include leftover printed sheets from the first edition. The plates for the 2nd edition were produced using Catesby’s original copper plates, but the coloring tends to be brighter than those completed by Catesby himself (N&E;, 166-168). The 2nd edition is freely available in BHL thanks to the Missouri Botanical Garden.

Yellow-crowned night heron (Nyctanassa violacea) and gullfeed (Scaevola plumieri). Comparing plate from edition 1 (left) with plate from edition 2 (right). Left: v. 1, ed. 1, pl. 79. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40753354. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26713640390. Right: v. 1, ed. 2, pl. 79. Digitized by Missouri Botanical Garden. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/10900266. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/7874637134.

A 3rd edition was published in 1771 by bookseller Benjamin White. This edition is made up of completely reset text and the Linnaean binomials have been added where available. While the edition did use Catesby’s original copper plates, the plates from the 3rd edition are significantly more brightly colored than those of the first edition (N&E;, 168-169). The 3rd edition is freely available in BHL thanks to the University Library at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

Purple land crab (Gecarcinus ruricola) and blackwood (Picrodendron baccatum). Comparing plate from edition 1 (left) with plate from edition 3 (right). Left: v. 2, ed. 1, pl. 32. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680194. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26936128596. Right: v. 2, ed. 3, pl. 32. Digitized by University Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/38993454. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/6829772164.

All of the plates from all three editions are available in the BHL Flickr. Thanks to BHL citizen scientist Michelle Marshall (also the curator of BHL’s Instagram), all plates from all editions have been tagged with the common, given and currently accepted scientific names for each species. The Curious Mister Catesby, which includes a species list by James L. Reveal in the book’s appendix (N&E;, 331-341), was used to verify the current accepted name for each species. This not only allows you to search Catesby’s illustrations by taxonomic name, but it also allows us to compare the differences in the illustrations across editions. To compare illustrations across editions, search BHL’s Flickr photostream by BHLCatesby AND “[scientific name]”, inserting the scientific name of a species depicted by Catesby in the brackets where indicated.

Catesby’s work, and particularly his illustrations, are significant for a variety of reasons. As the first fully illustrated book on the flora and fauna of North America, this book was the first introduction for many Europeans to much of the biodiversity of the New World. Beyond this, Catesby’s work was a significant resource for Carl Linnaeus, whose binomial system for naming plants (which he introduced in print with his Species Plantarum in 1753) and animals (applied in his Systema Naturae, 1758) is still used today (N&E;, 189).

Species description for Greater Antillean bullfinch (Loxigilla violacea, previously Loxia violacea) in Systema Naturae, v. 1 (1758). Catesby is the only reference that Linnaeus cites for this species name. Digitized by the Missouri Botanical Garden. http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/727083.

Linnaeus cited Catesby extensively in Species Plantarum and Systema Naturae, showing that Natural History enhanced Linnaeus’ understanding of many species. 131 of the 187 plants depicted by Catesby were cited by Linnaeus in Species Plantarum (N&E;, 201). Additionally, Linnaeus referenced Catesby 139 times in Systema Naturae (N&E;, 254-255). For some of these references, Catesby was the sole source of information for Linnaeus on a given species, and Catesby’s illustrations serve as the type for several of Linnaeus’ species names. In Species Plantarum, for example, 17 of Linnaeus’ species entries cite only Catesby, while Catesby’s plates serve as the type for 34 of the species in that work (N&E;, 201). For 52 of the species entries in Systema Naturae, Catesby was Linnaeus’ only reference (N&E;, 255).

Lily thorn (Catesbaea spinosa). Pictured with zebra swallowtail (Protographium marcellus). Catesby is the only source that Linnaeus cited when naming Catesbaea spinosa in Species Plantarum (1753). This engraving serves as the type for this name. Catesby, Mark. The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands. v. 2, ed. 1. pl. 100. Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries.  http://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40680398. Taxon tagged in Flickr by Michelle Marshall: https://www.flickr.com/photos/biodivlibrary/26936345516.

The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama Islands represents a milestone in the cultivation of natural history knowledge. We are indebted to this “ingenious” naturalist Mark Catesby who dedicated his life to capturing and describing the biodiverse wonders of the New World. What a wondrously beautiful and curious world we live in.

REFERENCE 
Nelson, E C, and David J. Elliott. The Curious Mister Catesby: A “truly Ingenious” Naturalist Explores New Worlds., 2015. Print.

Charles Darwin is famous for the theory of evolution by means of natural selection. The theory hinges on the mutability of species, whereby the propagation of certain favorable traits within members of a species may gradually result in the evolution of that species. The question of when Darwin first came to believe in the mutability of species – when he became a “convinced transmutationist” – has long been a point of contention among historians of science.

There are two prevailing theories on the topic. The early conversion hypothesis states that Darwin developed a belief in the transmutation of species while on the Beagle voyage based on observed similarities between the fossils he was collecting and extant species in the area. The second theory, the late conversion hypothesis, holds that Darwin did not start believing that species were mutable until after the Beagle voyage, once experts in England had studied the specimens he collected. Today, most historians of science support the latter theory.

Dr. Paul D. Brinkman, Head of the History of Science Research Lab and Curator of Special Collections at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences, finds the late conversion theory flawed.

Paul D. Brinkman consorting with known pirates in Charleston, SC.

Brinkman has been studying the history of science for nearly twenty years. He specializes in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century geology and vertebrate paleontology, especially in the American West, and is also interested in the spread of science from Europe to the New World and the trans-Atlantic exchanges of specimens and ideas. The question of when Darwin adopted a transmutationist viewpoint is of particular interest to Dr. Brinkman.

In a 2010 paper published in the Journal of the History of Biology entitled “Charles Darwin’s Beagle Voyage, Fossil Vertebrate Succession, and the ‘Gradual Birth & Death of Species,'” Brinkman argues that Darwin’s own journals from the Beagle voyage (which include discussions of the similarities between some of the fossils he was collecting and extant species – notably Glyptodontidae fossils and living armadillos – and reflections regarding fossil vertebrate succession – which Darwin himself later identified as a key element in his contemplation on the origin of species) suggest that Darwin’s adoption of transmutationism happened gradually but certainly during, and not after, the Beagle voyage.

Darwin’s journals and publications, as well as the books that Darwin was known to have in his Beagle library, provide key information that Brinkman used to support his arguments. As such, access to these materials is crucial to Brinkman’s research. Thanks to BHL, it’s easier than ever for him to obtain these resources.

Dr. Brinkman was introduced to BHL many years ago by Christine Giannoni, Museum Librarian at The Field Museum. Christine is a star promoter of BHL, having been involved with the program for many years; she currently serves as the Museum’s Member Representative to BHL. Thanks to her introduction, Brinkman is now a regular user of BHL.

“BHL is a wonderful resource,” lauds Brinkman. “I use a lot of old and obscure resources in my line of work, and BHL makes getting access to these sources a lot easier.”

The cover of the American Naturalist of September, 1895, which Brinkman downloaded from BHL for a recent project entitled “Edward Drinker Cope’s final feud.” http://biodiversitylibrary.org/item/129692.

When conducting research, Brinkman often refers to BHL 8-10 times a day, reading articles online or downloading relevant pages as PDFs. He also downloads title pages and significant figures for use in lecture slides. And while he may refer to specialized material when conducting specific research, the most-common type of material that he consults on BHL may surprise you.

“I probably use old museum annual reports more than any other single resource on BHL,” explains Brinkman. “This is especially useful, as a lot of these old reports have been relegated to offsite storage at many university libraries, which can sometimes mean long delays. BHL, however, provides them at the click of a button!”

So, whether it’s helping a scientist confirm the identity of a specimen collected in the field or providing primary source evidence to support the work of historians of science, it’s clear that BHL greatly increases the efficiency of research for those working in a variety of disciplines. We think Darwin would approve.