#vaults of mann

[mannlibrary]

Seed Saver

Wild Apples of Middle Asia, produced by J.S. Lawson from field drawings made by Nikolai Vavilov (1 of 6 plates donated to Cornell professor of horticulture  Richard Wellington by Nikolai Vavilov during the 6th International Genetics Conference held in Geneva, N.Y. in 1932; For an online look at the complete illustration set, please visit the Biodiversity Heritage Library at bit.ly/vavilov-apples). 

The rare and distinctive collections vault at Mann Library houses hand-colored  prints of wild apples and pears that tell an extraordinary story. The wild fruit specimens depicted were collected in Central Asia and the Caucasus by the Russian plant scientist Nikokai Vavilov (1887-1943) and his team of botanist colleagues over the course of extensive plant-finding expeditions during the early decades of the 1900s. These illustrations provide a full color glimpse of the intrepid work undertaken by a pioneering life scientist to advance food security in Russia and the world beyond. Sadly, Nikolai Vavilov’s was a brilliant career that was cut brutally short. January 26th marks the anniversary of Vavilov’s death at fifty-five in a Soviet prison in Saratov, Russia. We post this piece today in profound esteem for his inspiring legacy. 

During his all-too-brief life, Nikolai Vavilov advanced the knowledge of genetics and plant science in innumerable ways—in both lab and field.  His work on genetic homology led to the formulation of scientific law, while his expeditions to remote parts of the world both founded the largest seed bank of his time and traced the origins of numerous crop species.

Original Russian edition of N.I.Vavilov’s Studies on the Origin of Cultivated Plants, Leningrad, 1926, donated to Cornell University by the author. The work was widely acclaimed by the world’s plant scientists for establishing the geographical origins of major food crops. 

Born in 1887 just west of Moscow, Vavilov became an international star of Soviet science in the 1920s.  He traveled widely, not just to collect specimens but to collaborate and share ideas with fellow scientists around the world.  In 1932 Vavilov came to Ithaca to participate at the 6th International Congress on Genetics, hosted at Cornell University.  

The Sixth International Congress on Genetics, Cornell University, 1932; excerpt shows Nikolai Vavilov among his international colleagues.

He wasn't here simply to lecture, though; afterwards, writing for a Soviet audience, he made effort to bring what he learned in Ithaca to the USSR.  An excellent example is what Vavilov wrote about Dr. Barbara McClintock, who was researching maize genetics at Cornell:

"For our understanding of chromosomes, the star exhibit was the work of the young assistant to Cornell University, Miss McClintock. She displayed her remarkable preparations of corn chromosomes, allowing one to see the chromosomes' internal structure. This new technique made it possible to visually distinguish chromosomes, and to identify discrete chromosomal regions. Her astute understanding of the genetic background of corn could be seen by looking at the maps she created. These maps charted the distribution of genes over cytological scans, making it possible to connect the internal structure of the chromosome with the external phenomena of the genes. Miss McClintock was able to capture the conjugation of non-homologous chromosomes, and map the chromosomal sectioning of corn. This discovery is of huge significance, as all modern conceptions of genetics are based on the assumption that only homologous chromosomes conjugate."

(Written by N. I. Vavilov for the All-Soviet Academy of Agricultural and Rural Sciences in the name of Lenin: Institute of Applied Botany of USSR, available online in Russian at the All-Russian Research Institute of Plant Genetics. Translated to English by Anya Osatuke)

Unfortunately, the 1932 Genetics Congress in Geneva, N.Y. was the last the world outside of Russia would see of Nikolai Vavilov. By the 1930’s, Vavilov’s line of research in plant genetics had fallen deeply out of favor with the Stalin regime, which sought to purge Soviet institutes of science from any scholarship that argued with principles of Lysenkoism, a doctrine of the Soviet era—since de-bunked—that rejected Mendelian genetics and asserted an inexorable passing along of environmentally-influenced traits from all organisms to their offspring. Increasingly pressured by the Stalin government and hedged out by ideological pseudo-science, Vavilov was barred from travel until his arrest in 1940. Three years later, he perished imprisoned, likely from starvation. 

By the early 1950s, the political tides in the Soviet Union were turning. Soviet science under the regime of Nikita Kruschev slowly abandoned Lysenkoism. In 1987, a celebration marked the official rehabilitation of Vavilov and his scientific contributions in the eyes of the Soviet government. A postage stamp was issued in Vavilov’s honor and a collection of his papers on food crop origins was published, with an English translation produced five years later and reissued in 1997. Today, Russia’s premier institute for genetics research bears Vavilov’s name: the Vavilov Institute of General Genetics in Moscow. And the institute that Vavilov founded over a century ago, the Institute for Plant Genetic Resources in St. Petersburg, which keeps a collection of seeds of thousands of food plant varieties and has an extraordinary story of its own to tell, continues to be a world renowned center for the preservation of agrobiodiversity. 

The important story of Nikolai Vavilov is discussed in more detail in the exhibit Cultivating Silence: Nikolai Vavilov and the Suppression of Science in the Modern Era, which opened in the Mann Library lobby in October 2021 and can now also be viewed at exhibits.library.cornell.edu/cultivating-silence.

[mannlibrary]

Royal fig

The Royal Vineyard Fig, illustrated by J. L. MacFarlane, in The Florist and Pomologist, London, 1871. (In the special collections of Mann Library, Cornell University)

Curvy, soft, and delicious. Richly hued inside and out in varying shades of green, creamy white and reddish brown, mildly sweet when fresh, increasingly so when coaxed into its browner, chewier incarnation, at which point it becomes a favored dried fruit of the winter holiday season. We present to you: The fig.

Ficus carica L., the tree species that bears the edible fig fruit, has long been cultivated by humans—and may in fact have been among the very first of cultivated crops, with fossilized fig tree parts uncovered in Neolithic sites of the Asia minor region dating to more than 5000 BC. In their long history among humans, fig varieties have proliferated.  Adriatic, Black Mission, Calimyrna are among the most widely grown commercial fig types grown today. But home gardeners — at least those of us who reside in places where winter temperatures stay above 10-20 degrees Fahrenheit — have hundreds more to choose from. And back in the 19th century England, publishers of the Florist and Pomologist wanted to be sure that English households considering a fig tree addition to their kitchen gardens knew of the Royal Vineyard Fig,  a variety “of sterling merit” with “flavour [that] is particularly rich and excellent—indeed it may be described as superexcellent!”

The persuasive prose and lovely artwork offered by the Florist and Pomologist make it a little hard not to be tempted to make room for a  new fruit-bearing fig tree in the backyard. Indeed, the case for the Royal Vineyard Fig presented here is great example of 19th century British horticultural publishing industry at work.  A rich combination of botanical detail, practical instruction, quality advice, and fine artwork characterized publishing in the horticultural field during the 19th century. As a monthly publication, the Florist and Pomologist enlisted contributions by gardeners, fruit growers and breeders from across England to promote horticulture as a hobby across a steadily growing English middle class.

From The Florist and Pomologist, London, 1863.

Describing native and exotic fruit and flower species, as well as both old and newly developed hybrids, the The Florist and Pomologist provided practical tips for getting the various featured plants to thrive in the English climate. For growing figs, for example an 1863 issue of the journal suggests the reasonableness and how to’s of growing fig trees in pots, which can of course be more easily moved indoors in the event of a fig-tree-killing cold front in any given winter season. Indeed, the seasonal granularity of the advice provided by the journal’s writers was high: monthly issues of the journal, which were released in folio format, featured the steps needed at the given time of year for keeping various fruits, vegetables and flowers in a thriving state. Last but not least, the Florist and Pomologist also didn’t shy away from wading into contemporary discussions on the identification of specific hybrids and plant origins. Different botanical illustrators, some, like the famed Walter Hood Fitch and James Andrews, associated with the Kew Royal Botanic Gardens or the Royal Horticultural Society, contributed the artwork. The creator of the fig illustration featured at the top of this blog was James Laird MacFarlane, a Scottish-born illustrator who also gained some renown for his illustrations of orchids during the time of “orchidmania” in British popular culture of the late 19th century.

From The forme of cury, a roll of ancient English cookery, compiled, about A.D. 1390, by the master-cooks of King Richard II, presented afterwards to Queen Elizabeth, by Edward, lord Stafford, and now in the possession of Gustavus Brander, Esq, by Samuel Pegge, et al. 1780, Notable in this 14th century recipe collection are the instructions for  Fyge: “Take blanched almonds, grind them, mix with water and wine, quartered figs, whole raisins. Add in powdered ginger, clarified honey, boil it well and salt it, and serve.” Viewable at archive.org

Looking at  MacFarlane’s illustration of the luscious Royal Vineyard Fig, it’s easy to imagine that the artist was as smitten with this familiar fruit as he was with the exotic orchids of his day. Long a staple for all classes in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures, figs were likely first introduced into English gardens in the 16th century. The Royal Vineyard Fig is itself a British hybrid, traced by the Florist and Pomologist to a  private  tree collection in the borough of Hammersmith, then a suburb of London. Oddly enough, figs are not actually the main ingredient in that much sung centerpiece of the Victorian Christmas dinner, the figgy pudding, which features mainly raisins and maybe plums, but rarely figs. A case of false advertising? Not really. Figgy pudding’s likely precursors can be found in medieval versions of various, both sweet and savory puddings, which did in fact tap into the complex sweetness of figs for their texture and toothsomeness. And then of course, figs have always been the feature element in a classic American confection, the Fig Newton — invented in Philadelphia by a fig lover (Charles Roser), first mass-produced in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts (yes, that is near Newton, MA) in 1891, and still going strong as a parent-favored, fiber-and potassium-providing snack for kids and the young at heart across the United States. No doubt then, the fig has had a long and storied  presence in global culinary culture, not to mention religious symbolism (e.g. the fig leaf for Adam and Eve!). As the writers behind the Florist and Pomologist hoped to persuade, it’s an easy and quite lovely item to keep in our home gardens too. 

For an online browse of the 1871 issue of The Florist and Pomologist and its account of the Royal Vineyard Fig, see bit.ly/3pNHlt1

Sources: 

Encyclopedia Britannica:  https://academic.eb.com/levels/collegiate/article/fig/34227

Nissen, Claus, Die Botanische Buchillustration: Geschichte und Bibliographie. Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1966

Tannahill, Reay. Food in History. 1st pbk. ed. New York: Crown Trade Paperbacks, 1988.

https://www.thespruceeats.com/history-of-figs-1807598

https://somersetandwood.com/collections/themed-collections/botanical-illustrations-j-l-macfarlane-frhs-1836-c-1913

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/brief-history-figgy-pudding-180957600/

https://www.history.com/news/the-holiday-history-of-christmas-pudding

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figgy_pudding

[mannlibrary]

American cookery

Title page to American Cookery by Amelia Simmons, reproduced in facsimile copy by Oxford University Press, 1958, from Mann Library’s special collections.  Only a handful of copies of the original 1796 publication survive. 

What is American cuisine? In this country of many heritages, that question can have a rich range of answers—but nothing says American food quite like Thanksgiving dinner. And of course a  North American turkey—nominated (alas, unsuccessfully) by Benjamin Franklin as America’s national bird—will likely make a star appearance on most holiday dinner menus being planned in households across the country this week. Those of us planning to fall in line with that tradition have a debt of gratitude to pay to one of our country’s earliest foodies, Amelia Simmons, who is credited with presenting the first-ever printed recipe for stuffed turkey in her seminal late 18th century cookbook, American Cookery.

Simmons’ culinary masterpiece of 1796 is thought to be the earliest American cookbook ever published. Described as the cornerstone of American cooking, the concise publication (47 pages total) also provides the first known recipes for dishes that use “American maize” (aka cornmeal), cranberries, molasses, and squash. Dessert lovers among us will be particularly gratified to learn that Amelia’s instructions for preparing “pompkin pudding” ultimately evolved into our American holiday favorite, good old pumpkin pie. 

Another groundbreaking contribution made by Simmons’ work: American Cookery appears to be the first cookbook anywhere to include instructions for using a chemical leavening agent—in this case pearlash, which is essentially potassium carbonate made from hardwood ash and lye—rather than the slow-going yeast or chancier beaten egg methods—to help make cakes and doughs rise quickly and reliably. Following the Cookery’s publication, the joyous process of preparing dinner biscuits and holiday cakes would never be the same.

Simmons was nothing if not intrepid. At a cost of two shillings and threepence—roughly $1.75 today--her groundbreaking cookbook reached many a colonist and settler household in the young United States of America of her day, and her recipes found their way word-for-word — and almost always unacknowledged— into numerous 19th century American cookbooks that followed. Simmons herself, a self-described “American orphan,” was likely illiterate, having had to rely on a scribe to set her culinary guidance to paper. A reprint that followed her cookbook’s first print run includes a lament about her writing assistant’s bungling (and in Simmons’ mind, possibly even malicious) omission of some key instructions for preparing a number of puddings, creams and cakes  successfully.

 We’ve had a couple of centuries to work out the kinks that came with Simmons’ culinary instructions for some American classics as originally printed. From our perch in time today, we sadly don’t know very much more about the life that Amelia lived beyond her chef d’oeuvre. But as we dig into our Thanksgiving dinners this year--and in the years to come—it seems fitting to include a toast to the culinary craft and chutzpah of this pioneering spirit. Bon appetit and happy holiday!

Sources: 

Stavely, Keith, and Kathleen Fitzgerald, “What America’s First Cookbook Says About Our Country and Its Cuisine,” Smithsonian Magazine, January 18, 2018 (https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/what-americas-first-cookbook-says-about-our-country-its-cuisine-180967809/) 

Wilson, Mary Tolford, “The First American Cookbook,”  Introduction to the  facsimile reprint of American Cookery, by Amelia Simmons, Oxford University Press, 1958

An online view of American Cookery by Amelia Simmons is available at the Library of Congress website: https://www.loc.gov/item/96126967/

[mannlibrary]

Mitsu Nakayama

The month of May is a month of blossoms and green growth in North America, and it seems fitting to close out Asian Pacific American Heritage month with a tribute to an artist whose work has graced some of the most important publications of the Liberty Hyde Bailey Hortorium, a national center for the systematics of wild and cultivated plants based in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences at Cornell University. The Hortorium’s laboratories, living plant collections, and collection of rare books and ephemera in the plant sciences are housed in the Mann Library building. For four decades, Mitsu Nakayama worked alongside the Hortorium’s scientists, students, and curators to render specimens collected from campus greenhouses and gardens or further afield into crisp yet delicate 2D representations that would convey the precise insights of careful observation.

Mitsu Nakayama (at right) with colleagues, including Hortorium Director and leading authority on palms and plant taxonomy,  Harold E. Moore Jr. (at left) 

Study of Columnea Wilsonii, by Mitsu Nakayama

Mitsu Nakayama was born of Japanese parents in Westchester County, New York where she attended high school and received training in art. Having spent several years teaching art in a girl’s school in pre-War Japan, Nakayama became a staff artist at Cornell’s Hortorium in the early 1950s, where she worked until her retirement in the spring of 1980. She lived in Ithaca, N.Y. until her death in 1993.

Mitsu Nakayama at her work bench, Bailey Hortorium, Cornell University. 

Study of Commelina (Native to Florida), by Mitsu Nakayama.

Illustration of Columnea illepida, by Mitsu Nakayama. For publication with H. E. Moore’s article “Columnea illepida: A new species from cultivation," in Baileya, vol. 8 (1960), pp. 54-58. 

Nakayama provided many illustrations for the department’s journals, Gentes Herbarum and Baileya, contributing also to Hortus Third (1976). Scientific illustration can be painstaking work, involving multiple studies of individual specimens to render the most minute botanical features and details as accurately and effectively as possible. Particularly impressive in Nakayama’s drawings is the light touch maintained in creating these precise renderings--her illustrations are as much breathtaking works of art as they are works of science. 

Iris study, by, Mitsu Nakayama.

In addition to contributing to the Hortorium’s renowned publications, Nakayama made a lasting impact on the institution in at least one other important way as well. She is credited with creating the Hortorium’s original logo, which, slightly modified at the time of the renovated center’s re-opening in 2007, continues to be the Hortorium’s logo today. Give it a good look--a great deal of meaning is packed into the simple yet effective graphic, which is clearly a hallmark of Mitsu Nakayama’s life’s work 

All illustrations courtesy of the Liberty Hyde Bailey Hortorium. 

[mannlibrary]

Teaching Nursing

Illustration from A Text-book of Nursing: For the Use of Training Schools, Families and Private Students, by Clara Weeks-Shaw, 2nd ed., New York: Appleton, 1901. In the special collections of Mann Library, Cornell University.  

In this month of March, Women’s History Month, the healing arts have been much on our minds. Thinking about an appropriate title to pluck from our shelves for our Vaults of Mann blog as the world grapples with the challenge of a pandemic affecting every corner of the globe, we’ve homed in on a classic in the history of American nursing education, a practical primer written in the late 19th century by American nurse, Clara Weeks-Shaw. In this extraordinary spring of 2020 we dedicate, in gratitude, our rare book spotlight to a profession that too often goes unrecognized for the vital role it plays in our world.

A Text-book of Nursing: For the Use of Training Schools, Families and Private Students is one of the first American nursing textbooks. First published in 1885, six decades, three editions and 58 printings later, by 1946, it had sold over 100,000 copies. In the 1880s nursing was still a young profession. In the United Kingdom of the 1850s, Florence Nightingale had famously transformed squalid field hospitals of the Crimean War into places of actual healing by training an attending corps of female nurses in the new, data-driven protocols of good care that she had developed.  Similarly, in the United States, Elizabeth Blackwell (America’s first medical school graduate), Clara Barton (humanitarian and self-taught nurse), and Dorothea Dix (social reformer and advocate for the mentally ill) played key roles in training and organizing a nursing corps that tended to the care of wounded Union Army soldiers and Confederate prisoners of war during the American Civil War. In both cases, the widely recognized war-time contributions of nurses laid the groundwork for developing formal health-related education for women in Victorian era society. And with this development, women of the 19th century gained new possibilities for an "honorable and remunerative" career outside the home.

Clara Weeks (née Shaw) graduated from the New York Hospital Training School for Nurses--an institution that would eventually join the Cornell Medical College to become the Cornell University-New York Hospital School of Nursing--in 1880. In 1883, she assumed the position of founding superintendent of the new Paterson Training School for Nursing in the industrial city of Paterson, NJ, and it was in this position that Weeks completed and published the first edition of her book. At 391 pages, A Text-book of Nursing could be considered a rather spare training manual for the complex field we know nursing to be today, but don’t be fooled. Between its covers, Weeks systematically presents an extensive suite of fairly precise guidelines, techniques and remedies for patient care that were widely recommended by late 19th century medicine.  

Nursing students of today might find themselves a bit put off by the somewhat imperious tone that comes across in Weeks' delivery. To wit, her introductory chapter outlines a daunting set of traits and habits for an aspiring nurse to nail for success on the job: "She should be a person of even, cheerful temperament, and not easily irritated or confused... She must have acute perceptions, habits of correct observation and accurate statement, and some manual dexterity. She needs to be quiet, neat and systematic, and capable of eternal vigilance." To the doctor, a nurse's "first duty is that of obedience--absolute fidelity to his orders, even if the necessity of the prescribed measures is not apparent to you." When consulting with attending physicians about a patient case, nurses must remember  "The doctor wants facts, not opinions..." and a nurse should convey those facts "without obscuring [them] in a cloud of vague generalities, hasty inferences, or second-hand information."  Competent yet demure, fleet-footed yet patient,  steady-handed yet gentle, the successful nurse must know her place in the medical field--which of course in 19th century context, was a domain ruled by men.

And yet, again, do not judge too quickly. Spend even just a bit of closer browsing time with Weeks' primer, and you may well find yourself drilling down to this thought: empowerment. "Some in the medical profession," notes the introductory chapter, have "feared that educated nurses would trench upon their own province, and, if they were taught to know one drug from another, would immediately proceed to the practice of therapeutics on their own account." For Weeks, however, the exact counter argument is clearly more true. Successful nurses are those who "learn to nurse by reason than by rule." "Learn...all you can" urges the author, "only take care that your knowledge is real and genuine, and not a mere smattering of technical terms." For the more both the aspiring and practicing nurse learns, the more confidently she is able to "make legitimate use of [her] knowledge."

To Weeks' time--the late 19th century--the practice of medicine  was being profoundly reshaped by revolutionary discoveries in bacteriology and new, progressive approaches in public health and policy. Having received her own formal training in this watershed era in medicine’s understanding of biology and human health, with her book, Weeks was rather clearly all about imparting to her young, female readership the insights being gleaned from these new frontiers of knowledge. Both in whole chapters dedicated to various aspects of human biology and  via side explanations integrated into her practical how-to's throughout this volume, A Text-book of Nursing is remarkably replete with  state-of-the-art lessons in anatomy and physiology that underlie the various patient care protocols described. If Weeks was autocratic in her teaching style, hers was also the enthusiasm and generosity of a dedicated applied scientist bent on sharing knowledge with young novices just beginning their own exciting new path in life. No wonder then, that with its publication in the late 1800s, Week's chef d'oeuvre became widely considered a must-read for aspiring American nurses of the early 20th century, right alongside Florence Nightingale's Nursing: What It Is and What It Is Not.

Since Weeks' time the nursing profession has developed richly, shaped by social movements such as the women's suffrage, the Progressive Era, civil rights, women's rights, and health care advocacy. Once a new frontier that provided women with a venue to apply energy, intellect and the commitment to the service of humankind, nursing has become a mature field of study, with numerous specialized areas of expertise vital to the health of humanity, and with growing numbers of men joining the ranks. To nurses and the figures such as Clara Weeks-Shaw--the teachers, advocates and innovators--who have promoted the profession’s cause and nurtured its students, we all owe a huge debt of gratitude. Perhaps never more so than now. 

Browse it yourself! Various editions of Clara Weeks-Shaw’s A Text-book of Nursing are available for online viewing via the HathiTrust.

Sources: 

Ward, Frances. On Duty: Power, Politics, and the History of Nursing in New Jersey. Rutgers University Press, 2009

https://www.womenshistory.org/resources/general/history-nursing-united-states

https://library.weill.cornell.edu/archives/cornell-university-new-york-hospital-school-nursing

https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/dictionaries-thesauruses-pictures-and-press-releases/weeks-shaw-clara-s-1857-1940

[mannlibrary]

Spider life

From: Fabre, Jean-Henri. The Life of the Spider. Dodd, Mead, 1919.

It's late October, and our Vaults of Mann focus turns to . . . spiders. Again, you say?! Yes, it’s true, our blog of last October was also creepy spider-focused, and we realize we may be looking a wee bit fixated on arachnids in seeking out our seasonal Halloween thrills. But we've got some good reason. First, of course, we're a life sciences library at a university with a world class entomology department. Second,  we've just opened the new exhibit Arachnophilia  in the Mann Gallery that showcases the work of Cornell arachnologist  Linda Rayor and aims to demonstrate just how fascinating and helpful this much maligned class of animals can be in the web of life on earth. And finally, there’s a happy coincidence: While preparing to celebrate said new installation, we stumbled across a wonderful old book by French science educator and naturalist Henri-Jean Fabre that gives us a look at some great 19th century science writing. No better way, we say, to cast light into the deepening gloom of late fall by sharing some of the lovely sparkle of this fun gem.

In his life time, Henri-Jean Fabre (1823-1915) gained wide renown as an educator, a scientist, and a writer of popular science publications who fervently sought to inspire and engage--rather than intimidate and exclude--a lay audience in the fascinating complexities of insect biology. Between his keen eye for nature study and his lyrical writing, Faber gained the admiration of some great contemporaries, from the likes of Charles Darwin and Louis Pasteur to literary giants such as Victor Hugo and Nobel-prize winning Maurice Maeterlinck. Smitten with Fabre's style and philosophy, journalist and literary critic  Alexander Teixera de Mattosand (who also moonlighted as a Fellow in the Zoological Society of London) brought Fabre's science writings to an English and American readership by translating excerpts from Fabre's 11+ volume French-language Souvenirs Entomologiques series and publishing them--the excerpts--as stand-alone English version editions.

Pick up a copy of The Life of the Spider and you won't need more than a few pages to understand Fabre’s popular appeal. What, for example, is not to love about a book that starts with this droll tidbit  on "medical choreography" and the complicated relationship we humans have to the ominous biting wolf spider (more commonly known as tarantula in 19th century Europe)?:  “The Italians have bestowed a bad reputation on the Tarantula, who produces convulsions and frenzied dances in the person stung by her. To cope with ‘tarantism,’ the name given to the disease that follows on the bite of the Italian Spider, you must have recourse to music, the only efficiacious remedy, so they tell us. Special tunes have been noted, those quickest to afford relief. "

For those more interested in robust scientific investigation of actual spider behavior than local spider folklore, continue reading and you’ll quickly also get what you came for. The rest of Fabre’s book presents a close look at Lycosa narbonensis (wolf spider), and other eight-legged creatures--the common garden spider, crab spider, & labyrinth spider among them--found in the sun-scorched hills around Fabre’s home in Avignon, France. Presenting observations  gathered first hand from the field over years, his account educates with carefully documented detail about the hunting, reproductive and early life survival strategies of his spider subjects (e.g. yes, wolf spiders  have a venomous bite that can paralyze and eventually kill small rodents and birds; no, garden spiders do not repair broken webs, but save their energy and silk for creating new ones when existing ones are damaged beyond usefulness). And as he spins out meticulously gathered spider minutiae to his readers, Fabre transfixes with prose that evokes--in its own 19th century style--some of the best in Attenborough-type accounting of nature’s astonishing dramas and quirks.

Fabre likely came to his dedication for bringing science to the people by virtue of his experience as a largely self-taught scientist—born to a poor rural family in the Languedoc region of southern France, his formal schooling was choppy, and much of what he learned in math and science derived from self-study with books borrowed surreptitiously from the classrooms of kindly school masters. Despite these unlikely circumstances, Fabre's intellect, enthusiasm and hard work earned him enough respect to eventually be offered a teaching position as professor of physics and chemistry at the lycée (regional government secondary school) of Avignon, where he complemented his teaching with an indefatigable dedication to scientific research and field biology. In 1866, one of his pioneering investigations—this one related to botany—successfully extracted a coloring agent from the madder plant which was later identified as alizarin and widely adopted as a stain for biological research. Ongoing publication of his explorations of the insect world, via his Souvenirs series steadily earned him a widening reputation extending far beyond southern France.

While a keen observer of nature whose influence Darwin recognized on his own work, Fabre remained a skeptic of Darwin’s theory of evolution—a position that some attribute to his devout Christian beliefs, others to his passion for doing field level study of animal behavior, rather than writing science theory. But while grand theory may not have been Fabre’s thing, his renown as an outstanding entomologist and a science educator remains well deserved. If you’re about to embark on field level study of arachnids of your own, you’ll want to read The Life of the Spider for the tips it gives on things like successfully luring wolf spiders out of their burrows for closer observation. If you’re science communicator, you’ll want to read Fabre's writing for the lovely tone and sense of humor that spices his work so effectively. If you’re a parent, you might consider sharing this gem with your kids, for the lovely enthusiasm for nature discovery it inspires. And it goes without saying, if you want to learn a bit more about spiders and their infamously spook if also alluring ways—especially if you can't quite bring yourself to get up close and personal with a live specimen yourself—this book is for you. It’s a charming and eye-opening read all around—and a pretty good piece of field biology too. 

Sources:

Fabre, Jean-Henri. The Life of the Spider. Dodd, Mead, 1919.

Jean Henri Fabre, French Entomologist, Encyclopaedia Britannica Online

Jean-Henri Fabre, Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Henri_Fabre

Life of Jean Henri Fabre, the Entomologist, 1823-1910. [s.n.], 1921, 

[mannlibrary]

Medicinal mistletoe

Viscum album, from Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen in Naturgetreuen Abbildungen Mit Kurz Erläuterndem Texte, by Hermann Adolph Kohler (Berlin, 1887-1898) in the special collections of Albert R. Mann Library.

Ah, the quietly beautiful mistletoe, so closely associated with Victorian Christmas holiday traditions. In Köhler’s Medizinalpflanzen here in Mann Library’s special collections, we’ve found such an irresistibly fetching rendition of this plant that we can’t help but spend a moment to ponder it—and share our musings with you!

Many of us will know mistletoe—neatly clipped, bound in bright red ribbon and hung aloft in a well-trafficked location during the winter holiday season—as an invitation to nip a quick kiss from a friend who may be the subject of some (possibly secret) admiration. But did you know that mistletoe—a semi-parasitic plant native to Europe, most often found growing on apple, pear, nut, evergreen, chestnut, and poplar trees—has a rather long history as a wish-granting agent in cultural lore? Both Celtic and Norse mythologies attribute sacred powers to the mistletoe plant. And ancient Romans and Greeks associated mistletoe with some considerable capacity to promote not only true love and fertility, but peace between warring nations as well. Which is giving at least a few of us here at Mann Library some added incentive to include mistletoe in our holiday decorations this year.

From Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen in Naturgetreuen Abbildungen Mit Kurz Erläuterndem Texte, by Hermann Adolph Kohler (Berlin, 1887-1898) in the special collections of Albert R. Mann Library.

Given this honored place in Europe’s cultural history, perhaps it comes as no surprise that mistletoe continues to attract some attention as a clinical medicinal as well. No, it is not, at least not yet, an FDA approved cancer drug, but some studies, particularly in Europe, have shown some effectiveness in improving cancer-related symptoms, reducing side effects of chemotherapy, and stimulating the human immune system. Undoubtedly more research is needed to provide more definitive directives here, but again we say, the story is promising.

Köhler’s Medizinalpflanzen ranks as one of the most important and easily one of the most beautiful herbals of 19th century Europe. While publisher F. E. Köhler is often cited as its author, Claus Nissen, the renowned historian of botanical illustration, attributes authorship of the content for this compendium to Prussian physician Hermann Adolph Köhler (1834-1879), who devoted much of his career to research in the incipient field of pharmacology. In the early 1880s, German botanist Gustav Pabst began developing and editing the work for sale in installments, which were subsequently organized and published as a multi-volume compilation.  Describing over 400 plants from Europe, North America and various European colonies, Köhler’s Medizinalpflanzen evokes a particular historical moment as well:  Detailed information about the featured plants’ chemical properties and possible applications provided with each description reflects the intensifying interest in exploring the possible commercial uses of the world’s resources for the industrial age. Fine artwork by Walther Müller and Carl Friederich Schmidt (the latter known as one of the most important German botanical illustrators of the time) contributed much to the keen anticipation with which German apothecaries awaited the publication’s serial release. This extraordinary work is available for onsite browsing here at Mann Library—but for an online view do check out the copies available in the Biodiversity Heritage Library collection. We heartily recommend a relaxing and fairly uplifting browse during a quiet moment of the winter holiday season!

Additional sources: 

Kluge, M., “Kräuterbücher (8): Eine neue Sicht der Wissenschaft - wie das Mikroskop den Blick der Medizin veränderte.” Schweizerische Zeitung für Ganzheitsmedizin 2015;27:159-163. https://www.karger.com/Article/FullText/431004

Mistletoe (European), https://www.mskcc.org/cancer-care/integrative-medicine/herbs/mistletoe-european

Nissen, Claus. Die Botanische Buchillustration: Ihre Geschichte Und Bibliographie. 2. Aufl., durchgesehener und verb., A. Hiersemann, 1966.

“Von Köhler's Medizinalpflanzen,” Archiv der Pharmazie, v. 226, issue 10, 1888. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1002/ardp.18882261009

Zeitschrift fuer die Gesammten Naturwissenschaften, vol. 52, 1879. Pp. 148-152. https://books.google.com/books?id=eCNLAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q=Medizinalpflanzen&f=false

[mannlibrary]

Celebrating LGBTQ Scientists

June is Pride Month, which also makes it a great month to honor early LGBTQ scientists who made huge strides not only in their respective fields but in providing role models for LGBTQ scientists to come.

Photograph of Sara Josephine Baker taken in 1922, from the National Library of Medicine.

One of these trail-blazers was Sara Josephine Baker, born 1873 in Poughkeepsie New York. Baker was a physician and early advocate for preventive medicine and public health, primarily working with New York City’s impoverished and immigrant communities. She was the first woman to earn a doctorate in public health from NYU and Bellevue Hospital Medical College (now called the New York University School of Medicine). She was the director of New York’s Bureau of Child Hygiene, helped establish the Children’s Welfare Federation of New York, founded the American Child Hygiene Association, and held positions within numerous national and international organizations such as the Health Committee of the League of Nations. By the time of Baker’s retirement, New York City had the lowest infant mortality rate of any other large American city, in good part thanks to her work.

Photograph of children playing in the water from  Healthy Children: a Volume Devoted to the Health of the Growing Child, by Sara Josephine Baker. Boston: Little, Brown and company, 1923, from the special collections of Albert R. Mann Library, Cornell University. 

Sara Josephine baker was also a lesbian and an outspoken feminist. As a woman, Baker was a minority in the male-dominated medical field. She began to play with gender norms and would adopt a traditionally-masculine style of dress, often donning male-tailored suits and ties. Baker and her long-term partner Ida Wylie lived together most of their lives and would periodically hold meetings where women (many of them LGBTQ) who were also radical thinkers challenging the gender norms of their day would share their ideas over meals.

Book cover of Healthy Children,1923. (Note: Cellophane tape kept this book in circulation back in the day, but was not an ideal repair treatment. Today’s methods would instead reinforce the spine with cloth and conservation-quality adhesives. Still a lovely book cover though!).  

With Healthy Children, Baker addressed the health of children of preschool age (i..e ages two to six), hoping to fill a void in the existing medical literature about this vulnerable early life stage. Baker recognized the need, especially in growing, densely-populated cities, for disease and injury prevention through family education. She intended her book to give the average parent a guide to children’s basic physical and mental health and preventive medicine in the home, though, as a physician, she was also careful to note the book was not meant to serve as a substitute to good professional medical care. Often charmingly illustrated, Healthy Children covers a range of issues from child physical and psychological development, personal hygiene, malnutrition, common diseases of childhood and how to identify them, and basic medicines that should be kept in the home.

“Child’s Romper and Creeper” illustration from Baker’s Healthy Children, meant to show how good clothing design can help maintain a healthy body temperature and to provide the child with a free range of motion.

Sara Josephine Baker was a forward-thinking physician, public health advocate and family educator who had the courage to break important new ground in both her professional and personal life. For a June Pride Month that this year commemorates a major turning point in the gay pride movement, we do well to remember this lesbian pioneer and her unflinching zeal for taking big, important steps for a better, healthier and happier world.

Sources:

britannica.com/biography/Sara-Josephine-Baker

ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1470556/

ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1447383/