The Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History at the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives in Washington, D.C. is home to many rare and special books. Amongst the approximately 20,000 volumes in the library’s collection is a particularly rare item—one of only six known copies in public and institutional libraries worldwide.

Title Page. Byron, Edmund. What we did in South Africa in 1873 (1874). Digitized copy from the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History at the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives. Freely available in the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

The book is a privately printed journal by Edmund Byron entitled What we did in South Africa in 1873, which details Byron and his wife Charlotte’s 1873 exploratory and hunting expedition to South Africa. In 2015, at the request of a researcher, the Smithsonian digitized its copy of the journal and made it freely available online in the Biodiversity Heritage Library (BHL), where it was discovered by Dr. Nigel Elliott, who was conducting research on the Byron family.

“My research was prompted by a donation to the Museum of Croydon, UK, of an archive of family papers relating to the Byrons, who were Lords of the Manor and Squires of the village of Coulsdon from 1782 to 1921,” explains Elliott. “Since the archive’s acquisition in 2012, a team from the Bourne Society has been working on cataloguing the archive, with a view to online publication. The archive provides a rich resource for exploring the domestic, social, business and farming history of the family, their role and relationship as local squires within the wider village community of Coulsdon, and the extensive foreign travels undertaken over the years by members of the family.”

Dr. Nigel Elliott. Photo courtesy of Dr. Elliot.

Inspired by his work with the Bourne Society cataloging these archives—and the intensive research that it required—Elliott authored a book on the family, published by the Society: The Byrons of Coulsdon: Abroad and at Home (2020). The book itself covers three generations, with a particular focus on Edmund Byron.

Cover: The Byrons of Coulsdon: Abroad and at Home (2020) by Dr. Nigel Elliott. Image courtesy of Dr. Elliott.

One of Elliott’s chapters is devoted to Edmund and Charlotte’s South African expedition—as detailed in Edmund’s journal—during which the pair, accompanied by Edmund’s manservant Mr. Kemp, traveled via a combination of coaster (a shallow-hulled ship used for trade) and ox wagon from Cape Town to present-day Kruger National Park and Great LimpopoTransfrontier Park, where, faced with the remote and challenging terrain of that area in 1873, they travelled and hunted wholly on foot. The Byrons employed a team of local Black staff—on whose hunting skills the Byrons were particularly dependent—as well as a White employee, Mr. Dubois, to manage the expedition.

“In the chapter, I follow Edmund’s journal closely and in detail,” shares Elliott. “I have attempted to place their visit in the context of South Africa at the time. My background reading revealed to me the extent to which the 1870s were critical in the country’s history, and I have attempted to set this decade within the wider trajectory of South African history.”

Online access to Edmund’s journal was indispensable for Elliott’s research and the publication of his book.

“From Edmund’s journal, which I accessed online via a PDF download of the Smithsonian’s copy on BHL, I was able to construct a detailed narrative of the tour,” affirms Elliott. “This easy access to the journal was critical in providing a thorough history of the family and in meeting the research objectives set out in the book.”

According to Elliott, the journal provides valuable perspective on the dualities of the Byrons’ lives as both a gentry family deeply rooted in a small English community and intrepid world travelers eager to experience different places and cultures. The journal also reveals a duality within Edmund himself as he—a privileged White male—interacts with new cultures and people. When referring to the Black men and women they encountered, Edmund sometimes uses derogatory terms reflective of the White supremacist culture so pervasive during the European colonial period. At the same time, and unlike many of his compatriots, Edmund strove to act with integrity towards his Black staff and others and even, when faced with a direct appeal for help, enabled one woman to escape enslavement by providing her with protection and employment.

“The journal provides a fine opportunity to deepen the character study of Edmund, a truly patriarchal man in the context of his home life in Coulsdon, that comprises one of the central themes to my book,” shares Elliott.

The Smithsonian’s copy of Edmund’s journal was originally owned by Eliza Vans Agnew, who had connections to Edmund through his wife, Charlotte, whose mother was a Vans Agnew. Today, the volume is part of the Russell E. Train Africana Collection of the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives, which contains manuscript and printed materials, photographic prints and negatives, slides, audio tapes, film, original and reproduction artwork, maps, scrapbooks, and historical and natural artifacts related to the history of African exploration and natural history. The collection was originally assembled by the Honorable Russell E. Train, a former judge, top administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency, and a past president of the World Wildlife Fund. It was acquired by the Smithsonian in 2004.

The circumstances surrounding the digitization of Edmund’s journal was a fortuitous coincidence for Elliott. The Smithsonian Libraries and Archives digitized the volume—unbeknownst to Elliott—at the request of one of his colleagues, who was conducting tangential research with possible connections to the Byrons’ South African expedition.

“My colleague was impressed by the courtesy of the Smithsonian staff, who responded quickly to his expression of interest by digitizing Edmund’s journal,” shares Elliott. “As it turned out, the book was of no direct use to him but, as this story reveals, there was a serendipitous consequence of the Smithsonian’s helpful response and the digitized journal proved invaluable for my research.”

When Edmund Byron decided to “have printed a few copies of the Journal which we kept during our travels”, he did so with the expectation that it “would be of no interest to the general public.” Would he be surprised to know that, nearly 150 years later, researchers would view this journal as an informative historical document useful for modern-day research? Thanks to the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives and the Biodiversity Heritage Library, this volume—once available only to a few select readers—is now freely accessible to researchers everywhere.

The pineapple, indigenous to South America and domesticated and harvested there for centuries, was a late comer to Europe. The fruit followed in its cultivation behind the tomato, corn, potato, and other New World imports. Delicious but challenging and expensive to nurture in chilly climes and irresistible to artists and travelers for its curious structure, the pineapple came to represent many things. For Europeans, it was first a symbol of exoticism, power, and wealth, but it was also an emblem of colonialism, weighted with connections to plantation slavery.

Originating from the region around the Paraná and Paraguay Rivers (present-day Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina), the pineapple was an important economic plant in the development of Indigenous civilizations in the Americas. The Tupi-Guarani and Carib peoples called the fruit, a staple crop, nanas (“excellent fruit”) and several varieties were grown. As well as food, the pineapple was a source of medicine, fermented to become alcohol, its fibers made into robes and bow strings and thread for cloth.

The Aztec word for pineapple is matzatli as seen here is Francisco Hernández’s, Nova Plantarum, Animalium et Mineralium Mexicanorum Historia (1651). The Mayans also cultivated the plant. Volume contributed in BHL from the John Carter Brown Library.

From South America, the cultivated pineapple spread to Central America, Mexico, and the Caribbean. Christopher Columbus encountered the pineapple (Ananas comosus, of the extensive bromeliad family) in the West Indies on the island he named Guadeloupe in November 1493.

Columbus may have brought one back successfully to Spain, although pineapples tended to rot on the long return voyages across the Atlantic. He called it piña de Indes (“little pine of the Indians”) for its resemblance to the pinecone and declared it “the most delicious fruit in the world.” For the Spanish-Italian historian Pietro Martire d’Anghiera, not unreasonably, the pineapple resembled the artichoke. This author of De Orbe Novo (On the New World, 1530) found it “not unworthy of a king’s table.” The early European explorers and colonizers were enamored with it, often praising the pineapple in their chronicles of their voyages. The first identified published illustration of the pineapple is in the historian Oviedo’s Historia General de las Indias of 1535, where it is again connected with royalty as “the prince of all fruits.”

Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés‘ Historia General de las Indias, folio lxxvi (verso) woodcut illustration (Seville, 1535). The author was a keen chronicler of what was new from the New World to Europe. Volume contributed in BHL from the Missouri Botanical Garden, Peter H. Raven Library.

The pineapple became a treasured possession in Europe, but it was of practical use for sailors in tropical regions, who were vulnerable to developing scurvy from a lack of vitamin C during long voyages. They observed the healthful effects of eating pineapple, even though the connection between the devastating disease and diet deficiencies was not yet scientifically understood. The Portuguese introduced the fruit (that they called abaxaci) to their colonies in Africa, India, and perhaps other parts of Asia in the mid-sixteenth century. For Tamil-speaking peoples, pineapples were known as annachi pazham.

It was much later that the intriguing tropical fruit was able to be grown in cold climates with the development, at huge costs, of glass houses and their reliable heating systems to warm the air and soil continuously. The fruit needed a controlled environment, run by complex mechanisms and skilled care, to thrive in Europe. Pineapples, thus, became a class or status symbol, a luxury available only to royalty and aristocrats. The fruit appeared as a centerpiece on lavish tables, not to be eaten but admired, and was sometimes even rented for an evening.

The pineapple was also a symbol of colonialism, one of the trophies brought back from conquered territories.

The pineapple can be said to first appear in England by way of the printed title page of John Parkinson’s Paradisi in sole paradisus terrestris (Park-in-Sun’s Terrestrial Paradise) of 1629. In its representation of the Garden of Eden, the fruit takes prime spot in between the valuable and wildly fashionable tulips. This may be a symbol of temptation for Adam, as there was also an erotic, seductive association in contrast to the staid, old apple. The pineapple was the fruit of the new Eden, the New World. In his Theatrum Botanicum of 1640, the botanist Parkinson provided a description:

“Scaly like an Artichoke at the first view, but more like to a cone of the Pine tree, which we call a pineapple for the forme … being so sweete in smell … tasting … as if Wine, Rosewater and Sugar were mixed together.”

Paradisi in sole paradisus terrestris, or, A garden of all sorts of pleasant flowers (London, 1629). Volume contributed in BHL from the Research Library, The Getty Research Institute.

Richard Ligon, part-owner of a sugar plantation run with enslaved labor, in his A True & Exact History of the Island of Barbadoes (1657), was fascinated with the pineapple he found there:

“When this fruit is grown to a likeness, you shall perceive it by the smell, which is far beyond the smell of our choicest fruits of Europe, as the taste is beyond theirs.”

The kitchen gardens of Caribbean plantations grew pineapples to supply the white households. Ligon tried to import plants back to England, but they did not survive the voyage. Since Columbus, Jamaica had been a possession of Spain, but the British Navy seized the island in 1655. Hans Sloan in his Voyage to the Islands of Madera, Barbados, Nieves, S. Christophers and Jamaica (1707-1725) reported:

“The Fruit is planted and us’d by way of desert (having a very fine flavor and tast[e]) all over the hot West-Indies, either raw or, when not yet ripe, candied, and is accounted the most delicious Fruit these places, or the World affords … The slices are soaked in Canary [a sweet wine] to take the sharpness which commonly otherwise inflames the Throat, and then they are eaten.”

A True & Exact History of the Island of Barbadoes, by Richard Ligon (London, 1657). Volume contributed in BHL from the John Carter Brown Library.

In the 1680s, Pieter de la Court, with the help of his gardener, Willem de Vink, attempted to cultivate the tropical plant at an estate near Leiden, and this effort is sometimes credited with being the first for growing one in Europe. But it was the remarkable woman, botanist, collector, and patron Agneta Block who achieved the first success with fruiting the pineapple from a slip. This took place in 1687 in a hothouse at her country house, Vijverhof, located between Amsterdam and Utrecht.

The pineapple can be viewed as an early example of a global commodity. And of slavery with the unfathomable number of enslaved Africans brought to the New World. The Dutch had started exporting the fruit to the Netherlands and Surinam, their colony in Guianas. A ship’s captain first managed to transport the plant to the botanical gardens of Amsterdam and Leiden in 1680. Surinam became wealthy in trading humans and was marked by its brutal plantations. Cash crops grown in the Americas for trade—sugar cane, tobacco, coffee, rice, for example—relied on enslaved labor as well as local expertise. In two successive plates of Metamorphosis insectorum Surinamensium, the famed naturalist and artist Maria Sibylla Merian gave prominence to the fruit. She had sailed to Dutch Surinam in 1699 to study tropical insects. There, for two years, she relied on enslaved African and Indigenous peoples as guides, household help, and sources for botanical information.

“Pineapple with Cockroaches,” the first plate in Metamorphosis insectorum Surinamensium by Maria Sibylla Merian (Amsterdam, 1705). In the author’s portrayal of insects of Suriname. Volume contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

“Ripe Pineapple with Dido Longwing Butterfly” in Metamorphosis insectorum Surinamensium. Maria Sibylla Merian described Ananas comosus as producing “the most outstanding of all edible fruits.”Volume contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

It was in a German book solely devoted to citrus fruits that the pineapple was illustrated in a manner reflecting its exalted position as symbol of social status and refined collecting. Johann Christoph Volkamer’s Nürnbergische Hesperides (The Garden of Hesperides at Nuremberg) contains wonderfully inspired, dreamlike images from the author’s garden ‘Gostenhof’ and its orangeries. Untethered, fruits float above various etched scenes of elaborate gardens of the Alps and Italy, country landscapes, villas, and seaports. There are five uncolored, double-size plates of pineapple, the “Queen of Fruits,” elements of which show the artist’s debt to Merian and her scientific observations (one almost a mirrored image). However, the Nürnbergische Hesperides is very much of the world of the merchant Volkamer, one of the few of the time who had the means and interests to both nurture exotic fruits and undertake such an opulent publication, a more lasting testament to the aristocrat’s cultivation and refinement.

The pineapple plates of Nürnbergische Hesperides (1708-1714) appear in the second volume, Continuation, here with a hairy spider, a reference to Metamorphosis insectorum Surinamensium. Volume contributed in BHL from the Wellcome Library.

One of the imaginative pineapple plates from Nürnbergische Hesperides (volume two of 1714) above a bustling port scene with tall ships, suggesting its importation from foreign lands. Volume contributed in BHL from the Wellcome Library.

The pineapple became fashionable in England after the arrival in 1688 of the Dutch King, William III and Queen Mary, daughter of James II, who were keen horticulturalists and, not incidentally, accompanied by skilled gardeners from the Netherlands. Pineapples were soon grown at Hampton Court. The hothouses in Great Britain became known as pineries. With its distinctive form, the cult of the pineapple extended to architecture and art. Carved representations sit atop the towers of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and other prominent buildings, perhaps an adaptation or reference to the pinecones used on ancient Roman buildings.

Most famously, John Murray, the fourth Earl of Dunmore in Scotland, had a stone-carved pineapple sitting atop his folly or summerhouse perhaps around 1761. The reason for that massive construction is unknown (although certainly boastful), as is the architect. The fruit had been grown in Scotland since 1732. The hapless, diplomatically inept Dunmore was the last Colonial Governor of Virginia and in that colony’s capital, Williamsburg, the pineapple had also become fashionable and a common motif in decorative arts. It was there that Dunmore incurred the wrath of George Washington in 1775 by proposing to arm his own 56 enslaved people as well to grant freedom to Black Loyalists.

During the 18th century, the pineapple was established as a symbol of hospitality, with its prickly, tufted shape incorporated in gateposts, door entryways and finials and in silverware and ceramics. The motif continues, prevalent in Christmas decorations in Williamsburg today. But with pride of place on the lavish dining tables of enslavers in North America, the pineapple continued its association with slavery. George Washington, who first encountered the pineapple at the plantations of Barbados, had them imported from the West Indies, a port in the triangular trade of enslaved Africans.

The 37-foot-high Dunmore Pineapple, the north front, showing the entrance (photograph by Keith Salvesen from geograph.org.uk, via Wikimedia Commons).

With technological developments in growing and preserving throughout the wealthy 18th century, the tropical fruit, once an expensive novelty, became a more common commodity in Europe. Helping to make the pineapple more accessible by describing cultivation methods in Great Britain were the writings of Richard Bradley, Philip Miller and William Speechly. The Reverend William Smith in A Natural History of Nevis and the Rest of the English Leeward Charibee Islands in America (1745) declared:

“Ananas, or Pine-Apples, are so common at Chelsea and other fine Gardens here in England, that they need no description, and I shall refer you to Laurence Miller, Sir Hans Sloane, and other books that treat of Gardening.”

Returning to the thought of the pineapple as a symbol of globalization, the Spanish had brought the pineapple to Hawaii sometime by the late 18th to early 19th century. The first commercial crop enterprise was established there in 1886 and others soon followed, often settling on land stolen from the Hawaiian people. A plantation system was developed, exploiting workers, both Indigenous and imported. With cheap labor and new canning technology, Hawaii quickly became the dominant market for pineapples in the world. With extensive advertising, the fruit evolved into a cliche of the Islands. But the big agricultural companies began moving their operations out of Hawaii to Asia and Central America for cheaper land, transportation, and labor in the 1970s. The pineapple’s reign as an economically important and popular fruit throughout the world was firmly in place.

The vast literature of accounts of the pineapple by travelers, explorers, plant enthusiasts, those in the plant and nursery trade, and gardeners— so taken with the distinctive plant— can be found and further studied in the Biodiversity Heritage Library. The pineapple’s distribution throughout the world is told in so many works, reflecting a range of histories— botanical, horticultural, historical, cultural, economic, architectural, and art— in a single tropical fruit. There is much for plant scholars, scientists, historians, artists, and others to discover in the digitized works, tracing the biodiversity and meaning of the pineapple. It still evokes a balmy, tropical paradise and the wondrous beauty of the natural world. As the 17^th-century Dutch businessman Pieter de la Court declared, “One can never be tire’d with looking at it.”

Hand-colored engraving by Johann Jacob Haid after Georg Dionysius Ehret. Plantae Selectae Quarum Imagines ad Exemplaria Naturalia Londini, in Hortis Curiosorum Nutrita. (Nuremberg, 1750-1773). Volume contributed in BHL from the Missouri Botanical Garden, Peter H. Raven Library.

Further Reading

For more in-depth information of the pineapple, a few of the works in the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives’ collections:

The pineapple: botany, production and uses, edited by D.P. Bartholomew, R.E. Paull, and K.G. Rohrbach. c. 2003 (link)

Pineapple culture: a history of the tropical and temperate zones, by Gary Y. Okihiro, c. 2009 (link)

Fifty plants that changed the course of history, by Bill Laws. 2010 (link)

Pineapple: a global history, by Kaori O’Connor. 2013 (link)

For further reading on the history of pineapple production: Jesse Rhodes, “It’s Pineapple Season, But Does Your Fruit come from Hawaii?” Smithsonian Magazine (link)

As I am writing this, Melbourne is at the end of its second wave of COVID-19 and I have been separated from the library collections that I work with at Museums Victoria for six months, 25 days, 21 hours, and around 12 minutes… but who’s counting?!

The pandemic has created a lot of challenges, not least working out how to be a librarian of an overwhelmingly print-based collection from a distance, but this time working from home has also afforded me opportunities to present a handful of webinars, the most recent being a guest lecture on rare book cataloguing for library and information management students.

I can say without a doubt that this would have been a near impossible task without the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Having a number of items from the Museums Victoria Library digitised and openly available on the BHL website enabled me to access collection items virtually for students and create engaging online content showing real-life examples of features such as collation, signatures, catchwords, and provenance. These are some of the things we look for when cataloguing rare books from the hand-press era, which for Western printing spans roughly from 1440, around the time when the Gutenberg press was invented, to the early 19th century, by which time the machine age was well established and steam-powered machines dominated printing.

The two-page view on BHL allowed me to flick through books virtually in the same manner as a physical object in order to indicate some of the things we might look for when cataloguing rare books. Plate and text page 299. Collins, David. An account of the English colony in New South Wales, from its first settlement in January 1788 to August 1801. 1804. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

A central part of a bibliographical description is to record the format and the physical structure of the book. In determining a book’s collations—or in other words, how it was put together or assembled—we can look for evidence on books, including the impressions that the paper mould have left on the paper and devices used by printers to keep track of page order such as signatures and catchwords.

A catchword will show the first word on the following page and a signature will indicate how many pages are in each gathering of the book. Both generally appear near the bottom of a page and both are also useful for rare book cataloguers to check that the item they are cataloguing is not missing any pages.

Close-up of a page indicating the location of the signature and catchword. Preface. Collins, David. An account of the English colony in New South Wales, from its first settlement in January 1788 to August 1801. 1804. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

During the lecture, I used BHL to flick through David Collins’ published journal, An account of the English colony in New South Wales … (1804), where I could clearly demonstrate to the students what I am referring to when I say “collations”, “signatures” and “catchwords”, and what aspects of the book that I might record in a catalogue record.

Another thing that I touched on was provenance markings and how to record any marks of ownership, custody or location on an item. In the case of books, this can mean autographs or notes written in books, as well as bookplates and stamps—people scribble, affix or slip all sorts of things in or on books! Generally, when cataloguing, I’d aim to note anything in our copy that might deviate from the “perfect” copy, so in other words, anything that’s happened to the book after publication.

The front flyleaf of the Museums Victoria Library copy features several marks of provenance, including an acquisition number, a blind or embossed stamp near the top of the page, and an inscription. Front flyleaf. Scott, G. Firth. The romance of polar exploration. 1909. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

Once again, BHL delivered the goods on provenance markings. I was able to browse some of the 600+ volumes that Museums Victoria has contributed to find many different kinds of provenance markings, including several marks of provenance in our copy of The romance of polar exploration by G. Firth Scott (1909) as well as bookplates, annotations and even a cheeky manicule! If you are interested to know more about provenance markings in our collections, take a look at this BHL blog post from 2019 by Hayley Webster.

So yes, the pandemic has been challenging, but not always in a bad way. It has certainly forced me to be adaptable and creative around my approach to my job, and I’ve also learned to love and appreciate the digital surrogates of the books in the Museums Victoria Library as much as I do the real thing.

April 2020 marks the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. Organizations around the world have commemorated the occasion by participating in the global Earth Optimism movement — an initiative spearheaded by the Smithsonian to “turn the conservation conversation from doom and gloom to optimism and opportunity”.

Throughout 2020, the Biodiversity Heritage Library (BHL) and our partners are joining the movement by sharing conservation success stories from and made possible by the BHL collection. Follow our blog for conservation stories — past and present — and visit our website for more information and to explore our Earth Optimism book collection.

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Feathers have been used in fashion throughout history, but the trend became more widespread from the late 18^th century when the Industrial Revolution made luxuries more available to the masses. In the 19^th century, new technology improved the speed of production and the millinery industry boomed [1]. Hats with feathers became a status symbol coveted by a new mass market and were produced on an industrial scale.

Birds were hunted around the world to supply plumes to centres of fashion such as London and New York. In 1886, American Museum of Natural History’s ornithologist, Frank Chapman, infamously observed on a walk in New York some 40 native bird species on women’s hats, some with an entire stuffed bird attached [2]. Indeed, women were oft blamed for the trend: in The Ibis in 1887 [3], women were pointed to as “the indirect, but real, instigators of this slaughter”. The author continues: “all that can be hoped for is that the freaks of feminine vanity may take some other and less harmful direction.”

The issue also arises in a letter [4] dated 1865 from ornithologist John Gould to Museum Victoria’s first director, Sir Frederick McCoy, who had previously written to Gould asking him to procure bird specimens for the burgeoning museum’s collections. In the letter, Gould ironically writes:

“The Ladies, the Ladies, have however, so stripped us of birds for their bonnets that but few are now in the market and these of course are high priced.”

Photograph of Flo Tuckfield wearing a hat featuring a large plume of feathers in Merrigum, Victoria, circa 1910s. Credit: Lilian L. Pitts / Source: Museums Victoria, MV000061572.

While women were loudly condemned for their role in consuming feathers, they were also instrumental in the campaigns to raise awareness of the devastating effects of plume hunting on bird populations. For instance, in 1896 the American socialite and amateur naturalist Harriet Hemenway and her cousin Minna Hall led a boycott of feathered hats which attracted 900 participants and led to the formation of the National Audubon Society and passage of the Weeks-McLean Law (aka the Migratory Bird Act), which outlawed market hunting and the interstate transport of birds [5].

As documented by Herbert K. Job in his 1905 book Wild Wings [6], at the turn of the 20^th century, an ounce of feathers was worth $32—almost twice as much as an ounce of gold. Job states that during 1902, over 1600 packages of heron plumes were sold at just one London auction house:

“A package is said to average in weight 30 ounces. This makes a total of 48,240 ounces. As it requires about four birds to make an ounce of plumes, these sales meant 192,960 herons killed at their nests, and from two to three times that number of young or eggs destroyed. Is it, then, any wonder that these species are on the verge of extinction?” (p.146)

In Australia, egrets, herons, lyrebirds, bowerbirds and emus were amongst the species targeted by plume hunters.

Illustration of a lyrebird from An account of the English colony in New South Wales by David Collins (1804). Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

Lyrebirds are ancient Australian animals: the Australian Museum in Sydney has fossils of lyrebirds dating back around 15 million years [7]. The Lyrebird reportedly came close to extinction in the early 1900s as it was hunted for its ornate tail feathers. In the 1911 publication, Pros and cons of the plumage bill, bird protectionist James Buckland states that “over 400 lyre-birds were killed in one district in a single season to supply the London plumage market” [8].

In 1901, the Australian Ornithologists’ Union (AOU) was founded to promote the study and conservation of the native bird species of Australia and adjacent regions. One of its members, Tom Tregellas, regularly camped out in a large hollow tree trunk over a period of seventeen years in Sherbrooke Forest, Victoria observing and photographing lyrebirds. Noticing a decrease in the population over time, he crusaded for the protection of lyrebirds and legislation was eventually passed to protect the birds.

The rapid decline of several species whose feathers were used in ladies’ fashion were seen during this period, and some bird species were not as fortunate as the lyrebird. The Huia of New Zealand was declared extinct in 1907, and it is also believed that the use of Great Auk feathers for down partially contributed to its extinction [9].

Periodicals, along with books and public lectures, were one of the key means of circulating information and inspiring action around bird preservation at that time. In volume seven of the journal of the AOU, The Emu, two articles by Australian ornithologist Arthur H. Mattingley are published side-by-side. In the first from November 1906 [10], Mattingley recounts a visit to the Murray River where he photographs egret and heron nests. In the second [11], written only a few weeks later, Mattingley returns to the same area and is horrified to discover that nearly one-third of the birds were killed, with the young left to starve in their nests.

Photographs accompanying the article “Plundered for their plumes” by A.H. Mattingley, in The Emu, Vol.7 (1907). Contributed in BHL by American Museum of Natural History Library.

The second article, Plundered for their plumes, contains vivid photographs that caused quite a stir internationally. These photos are widely regarded as a tipping point in changing attitudes towards the use of feathers in fashion.

In England, the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) posted the photos on billboards and in shop windows, and in 1911 men carrying enlargements of the story patrolled the West End of London to protest the cruelty of wearing feathers. As a result, the story gained attention throughout the UK, as well as in Paris, Amsterdam, Italy, Spain, Denmark, Australia and the United States [12].

From this point on, the interest of amateur ornithologists changed from bird collection to identification. An Australian Bird Book, by John Albert Leach (1911), and Neville Cayley’s What Bird Is That? (first published in 1931) are two Australian publications that reflect this shift.

Illustration from What bird Is That? by Neville Cayley (1947). Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

Feathered hats did make a reappearance from the 1930s-1960s, but the decades after this saw hats lose popularity as they were no longer a standard item of women’s daywear. Worryingly, feathers have been making a comeback since clothing adorned with marabou and ostrich feathers appeared in a couture runway show in 2017, and PETA have been campaigning against the use of feathers in fashion ever since. The use of down in jackets is also a contentious issue today, and many major international brands have stopped selling down in favour of high-tech synthetics.

While mass market fashion continues to have serious environmental repercussions, this history shows that wide scale attitudinal shifts around such issues are possible. Efforts on this front, however, need to be widespread and sustained.

References

1. Ehrman, E. (2018) Fashioned from nature, V&A Publishing, London, pp. 97-98.
2. Callahan, D. (2014) A history of birdwatching in 100 objects, Bloomsbury, London, p.72.
3. The Ibis (1887) Recently published ornithological works, Ser.5, Vol.5, no.20, p.458, viewed 27 February 2020. https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/page/8521969.
4. Letter from John Gould dated 20 December 1865, in Museums Victoria Archives, MV ARCHIVES – NATIONAL MUSEUM OF VICTORIA – Inwards Correspondence – 1863-1876 Gould, J., OLDERSYSTEM~02618.
5. Souder, W. (2013) How two women ended the deadly feather trade, Smithsonian Magazine, viewed 27 February 2020. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/how-two-women-ended-the-deadly-feather-trade-23187277/.
6. Job, H. (1905) Wild wings; adventures of a camera-hunter among the larger wild birds of North America on sea and land, Houghton, Mifflin & Co, Boston, viewed 27 February 2020. https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/48785.
7. Boles, W. (2006) ‘The avian fossil record of Australia: an overview’, In: Merrick, J.R. et al. (eds.) Evolution and biogeography of Australasian vertebrates, auscipub, Oatlands, pp.387-411.
8. Buckland, J. (1911) Pros and cons of the plumage bill, printed by Edmund Evans, p.13, viewed 27 February 2020. https://viewer.slv.vic.gov.au/?entity=IE6076556.
9. Callahan, D. (2014) A history of birdwatching in 100 objects, Bloomsbury, London, p.72.
10. Mattingley, A.H. (1907) A visit to heronries, The emu: official organ of the Australasian Ornithologists’ Union, Vol.7, pt.2, pp.[65]-71, viewed 27 February 2020. https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/page/8517730.
11. Mattingley, A.H. (1907) Plundered for their plumes, The emu: official organ of the Australasian Ornithologists’ Union, Vol.7, pt.2, pp.71-73, viewed 27 February 2020. https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/page/8517740.
12. Cronin, J.K. (2018) Art for animals : visual culture and animal advocacy, 1870-1914, Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park.

Ten years ago in June 2010, the Atlas of Living Australia and Museums Victoria signed an agreement with the Biodiversity Heritage Library – and BHL Australia was born.

Dr. Mark Lonsdale (left), the then Chief of the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation’s (CSIRO’s) Entomology Division, and Martin Kalfatovic (right), BHL Program Director, signing the Relationship Agreement between the Atlas of Living Australia, Museums Victoria and BHL. Image sourced from Martin Kalfatovic.

BHL Australia’s mission is to make Australia’s biodiversity literature freely accessible and discoverable. Ten years ago, we started with a single contributing organisation, Museums Victoria, and a team of five incredibly dedicated volunteers.

Over the past 10 years, BHL Australia has grown considerably. Our operation is still hosted by Museums Victoria (at the Melbourne Museum), but we now digitise literature (and ingest born-digital material) on behalf of 27 organisations across the country.

We are now a truly national project, representing Australia’s state and territory museums, herbaria, royal societies and field naturalists clubs, as well as government agencies and natural history publishers. Together these organisations have contributed more than 350,000 pages from over 2,400 volumes.

Dr. Elycia Wallis, Project Lead for BHL Australia at the Atlas of Living Australia, with our Zeutschel 16000 Book Scanner, purchased in 2017. Photo Credit: Nicole Kearney.

These volumes include treasures such as George Shaw’s The Naturalist’s Miscellany (1789-1813), Helena Forde and Harriet Scott’s Australian lepidoptera and their transformations, drawn from the life (1890-1898) and John Gould’s A synopsis of the birds of Australia, and the adjacent Islands (1837).

BHL Australia has also uploaded an extensive list of journals onto BHL (they may not be as pretty, but they’re just as important). To peruse all 2,400+ volumes, see our full BHL Australia Collection.

The Naturalist’s Miscellany includes the first published scientific description and illustration of the Duck-billed Platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus). Shaw, George. The Naturalist’s Miscellany. Volume 10. 1799. Contributed to  BHL by Museums Victoria. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5962/p.304567. 

Our volunteer team has also grown since 2010; BHL Australia now has 15 amazing volunteers who do the majority of our scanning, cropping, image processing and metadata addition work, as well as three science communication volunteers. (You may have seen their hugely successful takeover of the BHL Instagram account during #BirdWeek last year.)

BHL Australia volunteer, Tiziana Tizian, cropping page images in preparation for upload onto BHL. Photo Credit: Nicole Kearney.

Of course, like so many other digitisation operations around the globe, BHL Australia is now in lockdown (and has been since mid-March). But out of adversity comes opportunity. While in lockdown, we’ve switched our focus from physical to born-digital material. We’ve welcomed new contributors and have uploaded journal volumes published as recently as 2020. We’ve also started a major project (in collaboration with BHL superuser Rod Page) to upload article metadata for every Australian journal on BHL (we’re pretty obsessed with discoverability).

The Records of the Western Australian Museum is now complete on BHL from 1910 to 2019 as a result of our efforts (during our COVID-19 lockdown) to upload born-digital material from Australia’s journals.

And, like so many others, we’ve also had to postpone our celebrations. We had planned to invite all our Australian contributors and volunteers to a big BHL birthday bash. That’s on hold for now, but in the meantime, here are our BHL staff — Cerise, Chris, Veronica and myself — waving our thanks to all those who support BHL Australia. To our volunteers, our contributors, the Atlas of Living Australia and our BHL community around the world — thank you for a wonderful 10 years!

The BHL Australia team: Manager Nicole Kearney (top right); Digitisation Coordinators Veronica Scholes (top left) and Cerise Howard (bottom right); and Technician Chris Healey (bottom left).

Published in 1914, Butterflies of Australia by Gustavus Athol Waterhouse and George Lyell was the first comprehensive work on Australian butterflies to appear in Western scientific literature. It is a thick and rather chunky volume, with descriptions of 332 butterfly species, and was the product of many years of research. The copy held in Museums Victoria’s Rare Book Collection is even thicker than a standard issue, as it is bound with lined pages interleaved throughout. It is an author’s copy, owned and annotated by George Lyell.

Title page of annotated author’s copy of Butterflies of Australia (1914.) Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

Lyell and Waterhouse worked on the book separated by some distance; Lyell’s location in Gisborne, Victoria was 862km (536 miles) away from Waterhouse’s residence in Sydney. They corresponded regularly via mail, and the Museums Victoria Archives now houses some 400 of Lyell’s letters from Waterhouse, which came to the museum with Lyell’s extensive donation of butterflies and moths in 1932. In 2019 a McCoy Seed Fund project enabled further exploration of the archival material to see what it could reveal about the scientists’ collaboration and Lyell’s collection. It also shed some light on the annotated copy in our collection.

The archival material reveals that their publisher, Angus & Robertson, prepared the handsome interleaved copy for Lyell and gave it to Waterhouse to pass on. In a letter dated 28 August 1914 Waterhouse writes “I have the interleaved copy for you, but it is much too bulky & too nicely done to trust to the post” (OLDERSYSTEM~03030, Museums Victoria Archives). Instead Waterhouse entrusted the volume to friend E. H. Proctor to give to Lyell’s brother in Melbourne.

Letter to George Lyell from his co-author and friend G. A. Waterhouse. Photo Credit: Hayley Webster / Source: Museums Victoria.

Their correspondence also demonstrates how carefully they considered every aspect of the publication. For instance, a letter to Lyell on 20 March 1914 states “I like very much the black headings as they seem to show the divisions at a glance & generally speaking I like the size of the type” (OLDERSYSTEM~03030, Museums Victoria Archives), showing that the typography was carefully considered for readability. Waterhouse was pleased with the plates, writing on 4 Feb 1914 “Dear Lyell, Coloured plate no. 1 is glorious, magnificent drawings, just showed it to [Allan Riverstone] McCulloch who was delighted with it” (OLDERSYSTEM~03030, Museums Victoria Archives).

The illustrations are a combination of original drawings and photographic reproductions: original coloured plates by H. W. Simmonds, drawings of larvae and pupae by Miss J. Kong Sing, and the remaining are from photographs by Henry King. Butterflies of Australia includes 43 plates, and a total of 888 illustrations; its considerable scope and detail was considered very helpful by scientists and collectors when the book was published.

As Museums Victoria Archivist Nik McGrath recounts, Waterhouse destroyed his letters after entering the relevant scientific data onto index cards. While this might seem like a curiously destructive working method, it is not unheard of; researchers working with Charles Darwin’s correspondence have noted that he crossed out personal matters in his letters so he would not be distracted if he needed to return to them for scientific purposes [1]. In this case, in spite of the loss of Lyell’s letters, we retain a lot of the archival material relating to the book including a manuscript, index cards from Waterhouse, notebooks, proofs, black and white photographs of specimens used by illustrators for the book, specimen lists, and newspaper clippings of book reviews.

Along with many others, these photographs of butterflies were used to develop the illustrations for Butterflies of Australia. Photo Credit: Hayley Webster / Source: Museums Victoria.

In addition to looking at the archival material, an examination of the book itself is also revealing. Annotations are dated throughout the 1910s and 1920s and most appear to record sightings. In the introduction to the work, Waterhouse and Lyell note of the geographical focus of their study: “We are hoping this work will serve to indicate the need and point to that direction, and so induce collectors to aid us: we are carefully tabulating every verified record reaching us, and will much appreciate dated specimens for examination and return, especially those from points distant from localities given in our list.”

Lyell is systematic in his approach to annotations, including roughly the same information and formatting for each entry. The marginalia primarily consists of locations added to specimen descriptions, often dated, and sometimes includes a number, gender, and occasionally an elevation.

The initials GAW frequently appear throughout, and refer to Lyell’s co-author Gustavus Athol Waterhouse. Here Lyell notes that the species is “very plentiful at 5000ft diminishing to 4500 none lower, only few at 6000ft”. Annotated copy of Butterflies of Australia. Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

There are also often initials entered next to the information, which relate to the person collecting the data, as you can see in the example above.

The annotations use a similar approach from the beginning to end of the text; Lyell underlines the printed text in pen, circling the relevant figure numbers, and then notes the date, locations and other data on the interleaved pages.

This is a typical example of how Lyell annotated his copy of Butterflies of Australia, underlining the relevant information and then adding details to the opposite interleaved page. Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

Though the method of data entry is reasonably consistent, there are noticeable changes in ink, indicating that Lyell completed the annotations across a period of time. It would appear that Lyell was copying across data from other sources such as his own field notes and correspondence from other scientists as he received it.

Lyell’s marginalia mainly seems to record observational data, but occasionally includes a reference to secondary reference material. One reference appears to have been copied in its entirety—this is Norman Tyndale’s description of Lycaeninae adaluma from the Transactions of the Royal Society of South Australia in 1922. Tyndale’s description references Waterhouse and Lyell’s work, and suggests a placement of the new species within their system. The placement suggested corresponds to where Lyell has copied in the description.

The annotation replicates Tyndale’s description of Lycaeninae adaluma and includes a sketch of the species. Annotated copy of Butterflies of Australia. Contributed in BHL by Museums Victoria.

What exactly was Lyell doing with his annotations? It appears he was using the book to record ongoing research by himself and a group of naturalists across the east coast of Australia. H. J. Jackson notes in Romantic Readers that the practice of interleaving in books by scientists originated in earlier educational practices [2]. I have certainly come across other similar examples in the Museums Victoria Library. It is notable that Lyell’s annotations drop off after the early 1930s. He suffered an illness in 1931 that led to his decision to deposit his collection with the National Museum of Victoria. The rest of his life was dedicated to preparing his collection for transfer to the museum, and this seems to correlate to a decline in annotating.

References

1. Gregorio, Mario A. & Gill, N. (1990) Charles Darwin’s Marginalia Vol. 1, New York, Garland, p. xiv.
2. Jackson, H. J, (2005) Romantic Readers: the Evidence of Marginalia, New Haven & London, Yale University Press, p. 84.

Bibliography

Administration – George A. Lyell – Internal Correspondence 1891-1947- Waterhouse, G. A – Museums Victoria Archives, National Museum of Victoria OLDERSYSTEM~03030

Gregorio, Mario A. & Gill, N. (1990) Charles Darwin’s Marginalia Vol. 1, New York, Garland.

Jackson, H. J. (2005) Romantic Readers: the Evidence of Marginalia, New Haven & London, Yale University Press.

McGrath, Nik (2019) Kindred Spirits, Museums Victoria Blog, Retrieved from https://museumsvictoria.com.au/article/kindred-spirits/

McGrath, Nik (2019), Butterflies of the night, University of Melbourne Blog, Retrieved from https://blogs.unimelb.edu.au/insect-museum-collection/2019/01/30/butterflies-of-the-night/

In my job as the manager of the Library at Museums Victoria (Australia), I am frequently required to conduct rare book research for programs, displays, online projects, or to establish the provenance of a book. I remember being a little daunted by this task at first, not knowing quite what to cover or what the relevant references were in this field. I have put together this quick guide as a reference for newcomers, using digitised books in BHL to demonstrate how to “read” a book for rare book research. I’ve also included some useful links and further reading if you’d like to delve deeper.

Having conducted numerous talks and tours on rare books in my career, I am now familiar with the questions people ask and prepare by trying to cover as much as possible of the following:

• Bibliographical information: publication date and the dates of any parts if applicable, edition statement, number of volumes, parts and plates
• Production details: method of printing and illustrating, method of colouring
• Print run (edition)
• Remaining (extant) copies
• Biographical information of authors/illustrators/contributors
• Provenance
• Significance

Here are my top tips for finding that information.

1. Look at the book!

Much information can be gleaned from the item itself. The title page is normally the go-to for bibliographical details and may also provide information about illustrations. For instance, title pages frequently advertise methods of printing and colouring plates.

Image: This title page informs us that the book contains hand-coloured and monochrome plates. Source: Mathews, Gregory. The birds of Norfolk & Lord Howe Islands and the Australasian South Polar quadrant. 1928. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

The illustrations themselves often bear further information, such as the names of contributors or the method of printing.

Plate 33. Gould, John. Birds of Australia. Volume 1 (1848). Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries.

You may need to do some detective work to decipher abbreviations. In the example above “J. Gould & H. C. Richter” appears on the left with the abbreviation del et lith and “Hullmandel & Walton” appears on the right with the abbreviation Imp. There are a number of references that you can consult to illuminate these terms (see further reading). Princeton University Library’s post on Printmaker’s abbreviations provides the following information:

• del = drawn by
• lith = lithographed by
• imp = printed by

Therefore, this illustration indicates that it was transferred to (drawn on) the lithographic stone by J. Gould and H. C. Richter and printed by the firm Hullmandel & Walton.

The preface and introduction may also contain acknowledgements of contributors and details on production methods.

Preface. Gould, John. Birds of Australia. Volume 1 (1848). Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries.

For instance, John Gould’s preface to Birds of Australia provides greater detail than the acknowledgements on individual plates. He laments the loss of his wife Elizabeth part-way through the production of the work, and we learn that she drew the preliminary sketches that Richter used to develop the final prints. Gould also mentions that the illustrations were hand-coloured by a Mr. Bayfield.

Rare books may also contain traces of their previous owners, or provenance. Provenance information is commonly found in the first few pages of a book, such as the inside front cover, flyleaves or title page. Hints as to previous owners can include inscriptions, bookplates or library stamps (more on stamps in my library here).

Image: This inscription on the title page indicates that this book belonged to author George Lyell. Source: Waterhouse, G. A & Lyell, G.. Butterflies of Australia. 1914. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

Image: Bookplate of naturalist Frederick Ducane Godman, co-author of Biologia Centrali-Americana with Osbert Salvin. Source: Salvin, Osbert. [Collected articles from The Ibis on the ornithology of Central America]. 1859-1864. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

Image: These library stamps demonstrate the transfer of this item between institutions. The Museums Victoria Library has received two significant donations of material from the Parliamentary Library of Victoria in its history. Source: Elisha Kent Kane. Arctic explorations : the second Grinnell Expedition in search of Sir John Franklin, 1853, ’54, ’55. Volume 1. 1856. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

Institutional or library markings may direct you to relevant archival materials.

Image: Pencil notes in the top right-hand corner of this page indicate that this book was for sale by D. A. Horn Antiquarian Books for $50. The top left-hand numbers are an acquisition number that would allow us to trace the purchase in our archives. Source: Wild, John James. At anchor : a narrative of experiences afloat and ashore during the voyage of H.M.S. Challenger, from 1872 to 1876. 1878. Contributed in BHL from Museums Victoria.

Be particularly attentive to any dates as these should help narrow the date range for further archival research.

2. Consult catalogue records

If you are working with a library book, the catalogue record will be an indispensable resource for bibliographic details, and may contain additional contributor, production or provenance information. Comparing your local catalogue record to other library records will allow you to compare basic details of your copy with others to verify the completeness of your item. Trove and Worldcat are useful for locating library catalogue records and identifying how many copies remain in public collections in Australia or worldwide. It is often difficult to establish the number of extant copies with any certainty unless a census has been conducted (such as this one of the Aurora Australis.)

Auction catalogue records are useful as they normally provide a physical description, brief biography of the author, list any known contributors, and highlight points of significance. The price estimate can be helpful too! Some auction houses make their catalogue records freely available online, so you will be able to find them through an internet search. Otherwise, try consulting your public or institutional library to see if they can help you locate relevant resources.

3. Locate digitised versions

Sometimes it can be useful to consult a digitised version of the book, such as may be found in online repositories like the Biodiversity Heritage Library. This level of detailed research may be needed if you suspect the copy is incomplete, or to compare variations in hand-colouring or binding.

Image: By comparing our copy of Albertus Seba’s Thesaurus with a Smithsonian copy, I was able to establish that our copy is bound differently; two volumes of plates and two volumes of text, rather than the usual four volumes with plates interleaved throughout. Source: Seba, Albertus. Locupletissimi rerum naturalium thesauri accurata descriptio. Volume 1. 1734-1765. Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries.

4. Consult secondary references

Verify the information you have compiled by consulting relevant secondary sources. Rare books are described using specific terminology that you may not be familiar with, so it can be helpful to utilise a glossary such as this one from the International League of Antiquarian Booksellers.

Become familiar with standard references in your subject area and region. For instance, in Australia biographical information is readily accessible through the Australian Dictionary of Biography. The Bibliography of Australia by John Alexander Ferguson provides a list of Australian publications, and similar titles document publications in other regions.

Subject-specific bibliographies may also be of use. For instance, in my library I have consulted Antarctica, 1772-1922 : freestanding publications through 1999, Natural science books in English, 1600-1900 and Bibliography of Australian entomology, 1775-1930 : with bibliographical notes on authors and collectors when undertaking rare book research. These types of references can help outline significance and sometimes provide additional information on contributors, editions, or production methods.

If the book or author you are researching is well-known, there will be an array of books, journal articles and websites that provide biographical and contributor information, methods of production, and significance. For instance, recent secondary material on John Gould tends to emphasise the important role of his wife Elizabeth in more detail than is readily apparent from acknowledgements on the works themselves. Secondary sources also suggest that while John Gould certainly had input into the illustrations that adorn his publications, he would not have been the one to transfer the drawing to the lithographic stone.

However, if the book or author is more obscure, this can present a greater challenge. This is a good opportunity to utilise the reference services offered by your local or institutional library!

5. Remember the wider context

In my role as a librarian, I undertake rare book research on items in our collection as required, and therefore my research tends to be object-oriented. While this guide aims to assist this type of research, it is important to be aware of the broader social and historical context that a book was produced in and to consider how this might affect your interpretation (a much bigger topic than I can cover here!).

This guide outlines a basic approach to rare book research and is based on my professional experience. It is most applicable to rare printed materials such as you will find in BHL. If a more detailed approach appeals, the study of bibliography offers techniques for analysing and describing rare books at a more technical level.

Further Reading

Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America, ABAA Glossary. Retrieved from https://www.abaa.org/glossary

Carter, John (1980) ABC for book collectors, 6th ed., London & New York, Granada.

Gascoigne, Bamber (2004) How to identify prints : a complete guide to manual and mechanical processes from woodcut to inkjet, London, Thames & Hudson.

International League of Antiquarian Booksellers, ILAB Glossary. Retrieved from https://ilab.org/glossary

Melby, Julie (2009) Printmaker’s abbreviations, Princeton University Library Blog, Retrieved from https://www.princeton.edu/~graphicarts/2009/02/printmakers_abbreviations.html

Pearson, David (2019) Provenance research in book history : a handbook, 2nd ed. London & New Castle, Delaware, Bodleian Library & Oak Knoll.

Russell, Roslyn and Winkworth, Kylie (2009) Significance 2.0 : a guide to assessing the significance of collections, Rundle Mall, South Australia, Collections Council of Australia, https://www.arts.gov.au/what-we-do/museums-libraries-and-galleries/significance-20

Webster, Hayley (2019) Provenance and Library Stamps at Museums Victoria and on BHL, BHL blog, Retrieved from https://blog.biodiversitylibrary.org/2019/10/provenance-and-library-stamps.html#more-23080