This post originally published on the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives’ blog, Unbound.

“To her mind the truths of science seem revealed.”

That’s how Phebe A. Hanaford, author of Daughters of America (c. 1882), described naturalist Graceanna Lewis, one of the first three woman to be accepted into the Academy of Natural Sciences. But Lewis was not only one of the first professionally acknowledged women naturalists; she was also an abolitionist and social reformer who worked for the advancement of science as well as human rights. Researchers can find many publications by and about this intriguing woman in the Smithsonian Libraries and Archives’ Digital Library and the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Born in 1821, Lewis benefitted from an egalitarian Quaker upbringing, one that encouraged education in daughters as well as sons. Lewis told Hanaford that she learned to love natural history from her mother, Esther Lewis. Esther had been a teacher before marriage and continued to educate her own young children, sending her daughters to nearby Kimberton Boarding School as they grew. There, Graceanna was influenced by Abigail Kimber, a woman botanist who had discovered and identified several species. In 1842, Lewis’ uncle, Dr. Bartholomew Fussell, started a new boarding school for girls, and Lewis came on board as a teacher. She taught astronomy and botany, among other subjects.

Portrait of Graceanna Lewis. The Underground Rail Road (1872). Digitized by Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

From her family, Graceanna Lewis inherited not only an interest in science and education but also a deep concern for social issues. Uncle Bartholomew was an active abolitionist, and the family formed a local auxiliary of the American Anti-Slavery Society. The Lewis sisters, Graceanna, Mariann and Elizabeth, were profiled in William Still’s The Underground Rail Road (1872), which described them as “among the most faithful, devoted, and quietly efficient workers in the Anti-slavery cause”.

One of Graceanna’s earliest publications, written in the 1840s, was “An Appeal to Those Members of the Society of Friends Who Knowing the Principles of the Abolitionists Stand Aloof from the Anti-Slavery Enterprise”. It implored fellow Quakers to join the Anti-Slavery movement. The Lewis farm in Pennsylvania became a frequent and successful point on the Underground Railroad, described in detail by Still. The family helped transport those seeking freedom and provided clothes and supplies.

Eventually, Lewis moved away from the family farm to Philadelphia. She had studied birds and other natural sciences on her own, but this move allowed her to take advantage of the specimen and library collections at the nearby Academy of Natural Sciences, and it propelled her into a network of naturalists. In 1862, she met John Cassin, ornithologist and curator of birds at the Academy. Cassin had written, with George N. Lawrence and the Smithsonian’s own Spencer Baird, The Birds of North America (1860), a work Lewis found particularly inspiring.

Cassin would be an invaluable friend and mentor to Lewis, even naming a bird for her, Icterus graceannae, the White-edged oriole. Lewis also corresponded frequently with Baird for years, seeking advice and asking for copies of Smithsonian publications. In 1870, the year after Cassin’s death, Lewis became one of the first three women admitted as members to the Academy.

Icterus graceannae, or white-edged oriole, Plate XI. Ibis. Series 5, Volume 1. No. 1-4. (1883). Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

Lewis had channeled her interested in ornithology into her first scientific publication, Natural History of Birds : lectures on ornithology, in ten parts (1868). It was intended as an inexpensive overview of American birds for a general audience. In it, she also proposed a new classification scheme based on embryology, the characteristics of eggs. Unfortunately, only the first part was published, as funding for the remaining nine was never secured. She continued to research and publish on birds, alongside the leading naturalists of her time. Her articles in The American Naturalist, “The Lyre Bird” (August 1870) and “Symmetrical Figures in Birds’ Feathers” (November 1871) are available in the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Lewis’ interests and publications grew beyond ornithology, into the classification of natural history and a “tree of life”, which she exhibited at the Centennial Exhibition in 1876. The Development of the Animal Kingdom (1877), available in the Biodiversity Heritage Library, is a twenty-page overview of her theories. It was prepared for the fourth meeting of the Association for the Advancement of Women. The group was formed in 1868 with the goal of presenting practical methods for improving women’s role in society, including education on a variety of subjects. Unsurprisingly, Lewis was active on the group’s Committee on Science.

Cover. The Development of the Animal Kingdom. (1877). Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

Lewis told Phebe A. Hanaford in 1882, “I feel that my life’s work is before me, in lecturing on zoology to girls just blooming into womanhood”. For the next twenty years, Lewis continued to teach and write about various natural history topics. Her article “On the Genus Hyliota”, discussing the distinction of two rare African birds, was published in The Annals and magazine of natural history in 1883. Her social reform interests turned to temperance and suffrage, serving stints as secretary for her local chapter of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and suffrage association.

Graceanna Lewis died in 1912 in Media, Pennsylvania at the age of 90. Her contributions to both science and social progress leave a remarkable and inspiring legacy.

Further Reading

Baird, Spencer Fullerton, John Cassin and George N. Lawrence. The Birds of North America (1860).

Baird, Spencer Fullerton. Spencer Fullerton Baird Papers. Record Unit 7002. Smithsonian Institution Archives.

Bonta, Marcia. “Graceanna Lewis, Portrait of a Quaker Naturalist”. Quaker History, Volume 74, Number 1, Spring 1985, pp. 27-40.

Hanaford, Phebe A. Daughters of America (1883).

Lewis, Graceanna. “An appeal to those members of the Society of Friends who knowing the principles of the abolitionists stand aloof from the anti-slavery enterprise”. [between 1840 and 1849?].

Lewis, Graceanna. The Development of the Animal Kingdom (1877).

Lewis, Graceanna. “The Lyre Bird”. The American Naturalist (August 1870), pp 321.

Lewis, Graceanna. “On the genus Hyliota”. The Annals and magazine of natural history, Series 5, Volume 12, No. 67, pp. 210-212.

Lewis, Graceanna. “Symmetrical Figures in Birds’ Feathers” . The American Naturalist (November 1871), pp. 675-678.

Lewis-Fussell Family Papers, SFHL-RG5-087, Friends Historical Library of Swarthmore College.

Still, William. The Underground rail road (1872).

Truitt, James. “Digitizing the Papers of Graceanna Lewis, Ornithologist and Activist”. Cassinia. No. 77 (2017-2018), pp. 40-41.

Warner, Deborah Jean. Graceanna Lewis, scientist and humanitarian (1979).

Michelle Marshall is an independent researcher and creator of Historical SciArt, a research initiative dedicated to women in historic scientific illustration. In this guest post, Marshall shares more about how BHL helps empower her research on women in science.

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In Fall 2014, I discovered the wonderful world of the Biodiversity Heritage Library. I serendipitously stumbled onto this natural history digital library through collaborations with the Smithsonian Transcription Center, and I joined a group of dedicated volunteers known as BHL citizen scientists, whose work includes researching and adding taxonomy to the scientific illustrations that BHL has uploaded to its account on Flickr.

Himalayan Monal, Lophophorus impejanus, illustrated by Elizabeth Gould. Source: A century of birds from the Himalaya Mountains. 1831. Authored by John Gould and illustrated by Elizabeth Gould. Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

As I started to add scientific and common names to these images, I became curious about the artists. I easily discovered Maria Sibylla Merian and Elizabeth Gould, two of the more famous women natural history illustrators, but it was not until I found Roberta McIntosh that I started to scratch the surface of the multitude of women involved in this area of science.

King ragworm, Alitta virens, illustrated by Roberta McIntosh. Source: A monograph of the British marine annelids. v.2, pt.2 (1910). Authored by William Carmichael McIntosh and illustrated by several artists including Roberta McIntosh. Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

Roberta McIntosh (1843-1869) was the sister of William McIntosh, author of the multivolume publication, Monograph of the British Marine Annelids. She collected annelid specimens along with her brother, and he encouraged her to create scientific illustrations of these specimens for his work. While browsing through the monograph’s images, I noticed that there were other artists’ signatures, including one for A.H.W. In the Preface of this monograph, W. McIntosh identifies “A.H.W.” as “Miss Ada Walker” and also identifies “Miss Burnet of St. Andrews”.  I have been able to identify more information about Ada H. Walker, but Miss Burnet remains a mystery to be illuminated.

Illustration of marine annelids by Roberta McIntosh and Ada Hill Walker. Source: A monograph of the British marine annelids. v.4, pt.1 (1922). Authored by William Carmichael McIntosh and illustrated by several artists including Roberta McIntosh and Ada Hill Walker. Contributed in BHL from Smithsonian Libraries and Archives.

The discovery of these three women turned a spark into a flame as I realized that there are so many women still to be brought to light in this combined area of science, art, and history research. A few weeks later, I stumbled across Christine Jurine, a French artist who illustrated marine invertebrates and insects, and in the years that have passed, I have uncovered more and more. Cecile Pfulb Kastner is an accomplished French botanical illustrator, and I have written about my research into Kastner on my blog. And then there’s the sublime botanical art of Louise Cécile Descamps Sabouret for Revue Horticole.

Epiphyllum cactus, illustrated by Louise Cécile Descamps Sabouret. Source: Revue horticole. 1898. Contributed in BHL from Harvard University Botany Libraries.

BHL’s digital library is a gold mine of information for discovering more about these women. With the addition of full text searching, I have been able to locate details about these women, including their names, work, other publications, and collaborators. Matching up artists’ signatures with works in BHL has also led to further linking of these women across publications.

Additionally, BHL has actively supported me in making these women more visible. On countless occasions, I have collaborated with BHL staff and their partners to add these women to the BHL catalog by establishing “Creator IDs”. This designation allows other publications affiliated with this woman to be part of one hyperlink within the collection of BHL. This ID also provides “notability” to meet the criteria for inclusion in crowdsourced platforms like Wikidata, where other researchers can discover these women.

I was also pleased to collaborate with BHL and their partners for the #HerNaturalHistory campaign for Women’s History Month in 2019. Through this collaboration, many other researchers have become involved in this area through Wikipedia, and BHL has created the “Women in Natural History” collection of materials showcasing the profound and extensive work that women have done in the biodiversity sciences. These efforts continue to evolve and be updated as more information is uncovered.

Various fungi illustrated by Mary K. Spittal. Source: Fungi and how to know them. 1909. Authored by Ernest W. Swanton and illustrated by Mary K. Spittal. Contributed in BHL from University of Toronto – Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library.

Through a recent encounter with the Mycological Book Club on Twitter, I was able to collaborate with other researchers to discover the full name and details of Mary Kerr Spittal. In response to tweets in which I posted illustrations done by women in mycology, Clare Blencowe of the Mycological Book Club shared with me an illustration by a not fully identified woman mycologist using the name M. Spittal. Through full text searching in BHL, I was able to find her name as “Mary K. Spittal”, as well as another publication in which she produced scientific illustrations. At this point, I enlisted the help of my long-time collaborator, Siobhan Leachman. Leachman created a Wikidata item for Spittal and also delved into more resources to discover her history. I also enlisted the help of my mother, Shelby Marshall, who is an experienced genealogy researcher. Over the next few hours, Blencowe, Leachman, Marshall, and I created a detailed picture of Mary Kerr Spittal. The next day, Chris Robson, Catalog Librarian at Harvard University Botany Libraries and a member of the BHL Cataloging Committee, responded to my BHL feedback request for a Creator ID for Spittal, linking her name to her works in BHL. Additionally, Madeline Byrne of the BHL Flickr Group responded to my request to upload Spittal’s works to Flickr, where they have been tagged by artist name to further expand the discoverability of Spittal’s artistic contributions to science. This successful collaboration brought to light another remarkable and notable woman involved in the natural history of mycology.

Yesterday I posted about M. K. Spittal, saying I couldn’t find anything about her.

Today, thanks to the power of Twitter and some spontaneous collaboration with @HistSciArt, @SiobhanLeachman & @BioDivLibrary, she has her own wikidata entry ▶️https://t.co/ysuqB0x7QW https://t.co/ZsmRGLHI1C

— The Mycological Book Club (@MycoBookClub) February 12, 2021

For the past four years, I have been fortunate to find more of these women through my individual research and collaborations with so many others. I created the spreadsheet “Women in Historical SciArt” to share my research and to promote further research into the work and lives of these remarkable women. These experiences have enriched my life beyond measure, and my goal is to continue expanding access and knowledge about the contributions of these early women scientists and illustrators.

Without BHL, I would never have discovered these inspiring women in science and their work. I am incredibly grateful to BHL for all the support and encouragement of this research, and their continued updates to their digital library and Flickr collection, which support my ongoing work.

Portrait of Mary Anning with her dog Tray and the Golden Cap outcrop in the background, Natural History Museum, London. This painting was owned by her brother Joseph, and presented to the museum in 1935 by Miss Annette Anning.

On March 9th, the world marked the 166th anniversary of the death of Mary Anning, one of the bravest and most diligent amateur naturalists in history. Despite remarkable discoveries for which she was well compensated, her status as a self-taught, working-class woman meant that Mary Anning’s existence in the published record of science is spotty at best. Her story is nearly unbelievable from the start.

Mary Anning was born on May 21, 1799, in the seaside community of Lyme Regis, in the south of England. From the outset, she had an eventful life; she was named after an older sister who perished in a house fire, and at the age of 14 months, young Mary was the sole survivor of a lightening strike that claimed three members of her community. Her father, Richard, was a cabinetmaker, but also a fossil collector who sold his finds to the visitors of Lyme Regis beaches. When he died in 1810, the Anning family fell into debt. It was in 1811 that Mary’s older brother Joseph found the skull of a “crocodile” in the cliffs near their home, prompting Mary to investigate further. Nearly one year later, she had located the complete skeleton and hired help to free the fossil from the cliff. This specimen is usually considered the first Ichthyosaurus to be found (although reexamination of the historical shows that earlier specimens were discovered earlier), and its description and image were published in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society in 1814. Noticeably absent from this paper is any credit due to Mary Anning or her brother.

Mary sold the famous Ichthyosaur skeleton for a handsome sum, following in her father’s footsteps and quickly becoming the family breadwinner. In December 1823, Mary’s next major discovery came to light; it was the nearly complete Plesiosaurus described in the Transactions of the Geological Society of London; once again, Mary Anning is not credited by name in the paper.

Image of Mary Anning’s Plesiosaur from Transactions of the Geological Society of London. ser. 2 vol. 1.

It is around this time that Mary Anning became an object of fascination to the scientific community. Visitors came to Lyme Regis to meet her, including scientists and collectors from around Europe and the United States. The next decade continued to be a productive one, as she found the first Pterosaur ever discovered in Great Britain; the flying reptile captured the public imagination and her fame spread outside of scientific circles, possibly because she was named in the paper. She also unearthed more complete Plesiosaur and Ichthyosaur specimens, correctly identified coprolites as fossil feces, discovered a remarkable fossil fish named Squaloraja, a creature illustrating the link between sharks and rays, and found specimens of the invertebrate Belemnosepia with intact fossil ink sacs, containing viable ink that could be used for drawing. By the late 1820s, Mary’s work was recognized and her new discoveries often published by William Buckland, the great geologist who described the bones of the giant reptile he dubbed Megalosaurus, which we now recognize as the first published description of a dinosaur.

Image of Mary Anning’s Pterosaur from Transactions of the Geological Society of London. ser. 2 vol. 3.

Mary Anning’s letter to the Magazine of Natural History. n.s. vol. 3, 1839.

Mary’s fame continued to grow, and she continued to operate her fossil shop in Lyme Regis, selling significant specimens to scientists, collectors, and museums. In 1838, she was recognized by the British Association for the Advancement of Science with a special yearly stipend of £25. In 1846, the Geological Society of London arranged further funds for her welfare. Sadly, in 1847, Mary Anning died of breast cancer at the age of 47. She was honored with an obituary published in the Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society of London, a particularly remarkable tribute given that the Society was not open to women at this time.

I mentioned that Mary Anning is not well represented in the published literature. In fact, there is only one item known to be authored by her, a letter she wrote to The Magazine of Natural History, published in 1839 and available here in the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Notable Women in Natural History in iTunes U. Illustration by Maria Sibylla Merian from Metamorphosis insectorum surinamensium

March is Women’s History Month, and BHL is celebrating by highlighting women that have made valuable contributions to biodiversity science.

All this week, we’re publishing tweets and Facebook posts honoring notable women in natural history. We’ve also created a special collection in BHL featuring books written or illustrated by, or relating the contributions of, incredible female botanists, zoologist, explorers, and illustrators. We’ve made a selection of these titles available for free download in iTunes via our thirteenth iTunes U Collection: Notable Women in Natural History. Finally, we’ve gathered some of our favorite images illustrated by these illustrious women, or from publications written by them, and made them freely available for download and reuse in Flickr.

Today, we want to highlight an exceptional woman from natural history’s chronicles: Jeanne Baret, or, as she was known during the time she spent as a man, Jean Baret. We’ve asked Baret expert, and former Life and Literature speaker, Dr. Sandra Knapp, to share this woman’s fantastic experiences and contributions to scientific exploration and discovery.

Jeanne Baret: Around the World 250 Years Ago, Dressed as a Boy!

By Dr. Sandra Knapp

Voyage autour du monde, par la frégate du roi La Boudeuse, et la flûte L’Étoile; en 1766, 1767, 1768 and 1769

‘Yesterday I checked on board the Étoile a rather peculiar event. For some time, a rumour had been circulating on the two ships that Mr de Commerçon’s [sic] servant, named Baré, was a woman. His structure, his caution in never changing his clothes or carrying out any natural function in the presence of anyone, the sound of his voice, his beardless chin, and several other indications had given rise to this suspicion and reinforced it.’ (De Bougainville’s Journal, 28–29 May 1768).

Image of Jeanne Baret. ‘MAD LLA BARÉ’, Engraving, artist unknown. From Navigazioni de Cook pel grande oceano e itorno al globo, Volume 2, 1816, Sonzogono e Comp, Milano.

Cross-dressing seems to have been a botanical fad in the 18th century – the great Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus (responsible for the system by which we name animals and plants today) famously posed in an authentic Sami costume from Lapland, not realising it was a woman’s outfit. Jeanne Baret (or Baré or Barrett – spelling was not as fixed and consistent in the 18th century as it is now) dressed as a boy to accompany the voyage of Louis-Antoine de Bougainville in circumnavigating the globe; the voyage itself was an exercise in saving face after the disastrous French defeat to the British during the Seven Years War (when Britain gained control of Quebec). The intrepid Baret certainly saw more of the world than the notoriously stay-at-home Linnaeus, even though her name today is not well-known.

The world of exploration in the 18th century was an overwhelmingly male one, so the story of the young woman who dressed as a man to explore the world has immense appeal. De Bougainville set off on the voyage in 1766 – this was the first French circumnavigation and the first of any nation to have on board professional naturalists to observe and record the plants and animals of new lands. The “professional” naturalist accompanying the voyage was Philibert Commerson (often spelled Commerçon); a friend of Voltaire’s and a correspondent of the great Linnaeus himself. Jeanne Baret, of peasant stock from the countryside in Burgundy, was Commerson’s housekeeper and lover–what we today would call his common-law wife. Jeanne was an “herb-woman” with knowledge of plants and their properties useful to Commerson –his teacher rather than only his assistant. She was obviously adventurous and had considerable determination and sticking power – it had to be difficult to overcome not only gender but class barriers in order to stow away on the ship and even trickier to survive once her secret was out. The collaborative partnership between Baret and Commerson in the discovery of the botanical and zoological wonders is unique in the history of science.

The route of the Bougainville voyage around the world. From Voyage autour du monde, par la frégate du roi La Boudeuse, et la flûte L’Étoile; en 1766, 1767, 1768 and; 1769,

Women’s disguising themselves as men was not unknown – Hannah Snell dressed as a man and enlisted in the British Marines in 1745, serving for 5 years including tours of India; her book The Female Soldier, published in 1750, was immensely popular. Just how Jeanne Baret came to dress as a young man and accompany Commerson as his assistant Jean Baret on the voyage is not known – De Bougainville’s official accounts of the voyage rather coyly place her “unmasking” in Tahiti. It does slightly beggar belief that a woman, however skilled at disguise, could conceal her gender on a ship for many months, where everyone lives cheek by jowl – but look at Hannah Snell! The journal kept by the ship’s surgeon François Vivès is the source for Glynis Ridley’s (1) contention that Baret was alone, unprotected by Commerson and sexually violated by the sailors from the Bondeuse and Étoile. That his diary is dripping with sexual innuendo is without doubt; he sounds a thoroughly unpleasant sort. Rather than on Tahiti, which the ships passed in April and May of 1767, Vivès puts the site of Baret’s unmasking and violation in June on the shores of New Guinea. De Bougainville’s story may have had more to do with his linking the discovery of Jeanne’s gender to the open society of the island; he was one of the first to romanticise Tahitian ways of life and love.

Bougainvillea species, from Climbing Plants

Collecting plants is great fun, both Commerson and Baret must have been amazed at the wealth of diversity they encountered. Commerson wrote of Madagascar “I can announce to naturalists that this is the true Promised Land. Here nature created a special sanctuary where she seems to have withdrawn to experiment with designs different from those used anywhere else. At every step one finds more remarkable and marvellous forms of life.” In notes on specimens Commerson honoured high-ranking members of the expedition – the leader is commemorated in the lovely tropical vine Bougainvillea, Nassau-Siegen in Nassauvia, but Commerson himself did not publish any of these; he never made it back to France to write up the fruits of the teams’ labours. Bougainvillea was not formally described until 1789, and then only by Antoine Laurent de Jussieu, a French botanist who used Commerson’s specimens and his notes (2). It is interesting to see that early on in the voyage, in Brazil, many plants are “named” for members of the expedition, but later collections have more cursory notes, although he did propose Baretia for a Malagasy tree. Commerson’s Baretia was never published, not because someone wanted to do Jeanne Baret down, but that by the time the specimen made it back to Paris and into the hands of botanists, it was found that the genus already had a name; the principle of proirity had become the modus operandi for naming. After Commerson’s death, Jeanne married on Mauritius and returned to France in 1774. She was awarded a state pension from 1785 in recognition of her bravery and contributions, not really completely forgotten and lost in total obscurity, although she never did botany again.

Tepe E, Ridley G, Bohs L (2012) A new species of Solanum named for Jeanne Baret, an overlooked contributor to the history of botany. PhytoKeys 8: 37–47

She was more recently, however, commemorated in the specific name of a new species of Solanum from Ecuador – far from where she travelled and collected plants (3). Solanum baretiae Tepe et al. is a relative of the potato and tomato from the cloud forests of the Andes – its link to Baret is its highly variable leaves. Many species of Solanum have simple leaves, just an elliptical shape with no lobing, while others, like the potato, have divided leaves with several pairs of leaflets. Solanum baretiae has all kinds of leaves – simple and divided with varying numbers of leaflets – the authors decided to commemorate this by naming the species after Jeanne Baret – herself a master of disguise!

That we remember single men (and it is usually men) as the “heroes” of expeditions or of discoveries is not necessarily to denigrate the contributions of others; who, after all, refers to Captain Cook’s voyage of the Endeavour as “Banks’ voyage” or knows the names of the crew – the single-person reference is a sort of shorthand. Science was as collaborative then as it is now, without the efforts of the many little would be achieved. Jeanne Baret and other overlooked contributors to science like her deserve recognition and celebration, but she does not need to be a victim (as she was portrayed in Ridley’s book) to be seen as a success (4).

Jeanne Baret deserves our admiration not only for being the first woman known to have circumnavigated the world (although it took her quite a long time!), but for her significant botanical contributions in partnership with Commerson, even if they are not written down in quite the way we would record them now. You also have to respect the guts and determination of a woman who wanted to discover the world and just went ahead and did so – at a time when the hearthside was considered a woman’s place.

Explore the chronicles of Jeanne’s adventures in Voyage autour du monde, par la frégate du roi La Boudeuse, et la flûte L’Étoile; en 1766, 1767, 1768 and; 1769, the publication relating the Bougainville voyage!

References and further reading

(1)    Ridley, G. (2010) The discovery of Jeanne Baret: a story of science, the high seas, and the first woman to circumnavigate the globe. Crown Publishers, New York, 1–288.

(2)    Lack, H.W. (2012) The discovery, naming and typification of Bougainvillea spectabilis (Nyctaginaceae). Willdenowia 42: 117-126.

(3)    Tepe, E.J., G. Ridley & L. Bohs (2012) A new species of Solanum named for Jeanne Baret, an overlooked contributor to botany. PhytoKeys 8: 37-47 doi: 10.3897/phytokeys.8.2101

(4)    Knapp, S. (2011) The planstswoman who dressed as a boy (review of Ridley’s “The discovery of Jeanne Baret”). Nature 470: 36-37.