Although science is often viewed as a body of well-tested knowledge, it can also be studied fruitfully as a social activity. Indeed, much recent scholarship in the history and sociology of science has been directed to analysing the institutions in which scientists operate. The institutions of science include such formal organisations as universities, the Institute of Physics and the Glasgow Philosophical Society, but also informal groups of researchers with scientific interests in common. A similar perspective can be applied to the study of religion since much religious activity takes place within institutions, such as mosques, synagogues, churches, the Salvation Army, the Tablet and the Ecumenical Movement.

If both science and religion can be viewed as social practices associated with institutions, the science-religion interrelation is likewise open to social and institutional analysis. Such an approach might compare and contrast scientific and religious institutions in any of a number of ways; for example, in terms of their aims, functions, authority, recruitment, organisational structure and openness to outsiders. In some instances the relationship will be convergent, in other cases divergent. An example of the former is the use of the term ‘scientific clerisy’ to describe early members of the British Association for the Advancement of Science who implemented Samuel Taylor Coleridge's vision of a new clerisy that would provide intellectual leadership for the nation. The application of the term ‘clerisy’ to scientists also acknowledges that by the 1830s science had become a powerful institution within society.1 By contrast, other writers have repudiated any apparent similarity between science and ecclesiastical institutions. In noting that a narrow-minded consensus had developed within the scientific community at the turn of the twentieth century, the Austrian physicist/philosopher Ernst Mach expressed his strong disapprobation. Hence his complaint that ‘[s]cientists have now become a church and I do not regard it as an honour to be a member of this or of any church’.2

In this chapter we shall be concerned with the interrelation between a particular scientific institution—the Royal Society of London—and a religious institution—the Society of Friends (otherwise known as the Quakers). Although George Fox had been attracting followers for several years, 1652 is usually taken as the start of the Quakers as an independent religious movement, while the Royal Society, which can be traced to earlier groupings, received its Charter of Incorporation from Charles II in 1662. If we examine their subsequent histories, one evident connection between these two Societies is the number of Quakers who have been honoured by a Fellowship of the Royal Society (henceforth FRS). The chemist John Dalton, Thomas Young (of wave theory fame) and Lord Lister come readily to mind—although of these three only Dalton remained a Quaker throughout his life. In our own century we can cite the astronomer Arthur Stanley Eddington and the crystallographer Kathleen Lonsdale (the latter being one of the first two women elected to the Royal Society in 1945).

Historians have not only been impressed by the major contributions made by these and other Quaker scientists, but have also claimed that an impressively large number of Quakers were elected to the Royal Society when compared with the small proportion of Friends in the total population. Indeed, according to one frequently-cited statistic, in the latter half of the nineteenth century the probability of a man being elected an FRS was approximately forty-six times higher ‘if he was a Quaker, or of Quaker descent, than was the case if he belonged to the general population’.3 This is an impressive figure that appears to identify Quakers as statistically significant within the Royal Society. This statistic is also usually taken as evidence that Quakers were particularly productive members of the British scientific community. However, after reworking the data we find this figure to be incorrect in two important respects. First, as Fig. 31 indicates, the foregoing figure approached 35 (not 46) at the turn of the century but was also considerably smaller during the immediately-preceding decades. Second, the cited figure is also misleading because the proportion varied considerably over time, not rising above 5 until the third quartet of the nineteenth century. Indeed, prior to the second decade of the eighteenth century, only one FRS was a practising Quaker. In the light of these criticisms Quaker involvement in the Royal Society requires reanalysis.

Before proceeding with our own investigation we must specify its limitations. In the ensuing discussion we have identified those Quakers who had gained their Fellowships by the beginning of the twentieth century. Moreover, by adopting this criterion we have included all those Quaker FRSs born before or during the year 1861, a date which possesses some significance in Quaker history since it marks a major change in the membership rules, especially in respect to intermarriage, which had previously resulted in numerous exclusions.

The problem of deciding who is to be counted as a Quaker turns out to be more difficult and more convoluted than one might expect. Considerable care is necessary since earlier analyses contain a high proportion of inaccuracies, especially in the first century of Quakerism, and these misidentifications have often been adopted uncritically by later writers.4 In compiling Appendix 1 we have sought to remedy some of these defects. However, the available data have still not always enabled us to determine unequivocally which Fellows of the Royal Society were Quakers. Nevertheless, proceeding cautiously and using the best evidence available, we have listed 56 Quaker FRSs born before 1862.

However, there is a further problem with the identification of Quakers. By the beginning of the eighteenth century a high proportion of Quakers were ‘birthright Quakers’; that is, of Quaker parentage; indeed, nearly all of the men on our list were birthright Quakers. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the Society of Friends attracted relatively few who were not of Quaker parentage. This route was taken by only two on our list—Martin Barry and William Pengelly.5 By contrast, in each generation disownment resulted in a significant loss of members. According to one recent analysis relating to the mid-nineteenth century ‘between a quarter and a third of all who married at all’ married out and were therefore disowned.6 The proportion of those who left or were disowned varied and it may not be very helpful to compound figures over a period of two and a half centuries, yet 29 of the 56 FRSs (i.e. 52%) were disunited at the time of their deaths. This proportion is probably somewhat higher than for the Quaker body overall, but we should be careful not to draw the premature conclusion that dabbling in science was a significant cause of exclusion. Indeed, on closer inspection there is no evidence that participation in science resulted directly in any exclusions. Moreover, as Fig. 32 shows, the proportion of our small sample who were disowned varied considerably over two centuries. That fewer disownments occurred in the closing decades of the nineteenth century reflects a more general trend after the organisational changes in 1861.

Intermarriage was certainly the major reason for disownment,7 although many Quakers were excluded for other deviations. For example, Thomas Young was disowned in 1798 for ‘having attended places of public diversion’ and for subsequently attempting to justify his behaviour when interviewed by a deputation of elders. A close friend of Young, Hudson Gurney, ‘reacted strongly against [his] strict Quaker upbringing… [and was] disowned by the Society in 1803 for making [a] contribution to a fund for military purposes at a time of danger of French invasion’.8 Disownment also sometimes resulted from schisms within the Society. For example, during the Beacon controversy of 1836 an evangelical group seceded that included the meteorologist Luke Howard and his son John Eliot Howard, who studied the properties of quinine.9 At some points in our analysis we shall have to distinguish those who remained within the Society throughout their lives from those lapsed Quakers, like Young, Gurney and the two Howards. We shall refer to this latter group as ex-Quakers. In Fig. 32 the difference between the two lines indicates the number of ex-Quaker FRSs at the start of each decade. However, the group of ex-Quakers is far from homogeneous since although sonic firmly rejected their religious upbringing others remained in close contact with the Quaker movement and even continued to attend meetings. For example, the Liberal politician William Forster ‘retained the deepest interest in all’ aspects of Quakerism after being excluded for marrying Matthew Arnold's daughter. Following his death in 1886, a memorial service was held in Westminster Abbey but Forster was subsequently accorded a simple Quaker funeral and was buried near his home in Yorkshire.10

Compiling a list of Quaker FRSs forces the historian to confront other problems, one of which can be illustrated by the example of William Penn who was proposed for Fellowship by the tea merchant John Houghton in 1681, shortly before he set sail for America. Penn is not included in Appendix 1 because, in the strict sense, he was not an FRS; for although his name appears in the published register of Fellows he was never formally admitted to the Society, never attended a meeting nor paid his dues. Despite Penn's evident support for the Society's aims and his subsequent assertion that he was ‘a Greshamist throughout’,11 his direct involvement with the Royal Society was minimal.12

It is also important to note that, until the latter decades of the nineteenth century, the Royal Society contained numerous Fellows who did not actively pursue scientific research. Indeed, the high proportion of members who made no contribution to scientific knowledge was emphasised by the reformers who sought to change the Society's constitution in the second quarter of the century. Yet prior to the mid-century most of those elected to the Society did not possess any scientific credentials or publications. For many it was just another London club and one with the added attraction of a Royal Charter. However, there is evidence that a far higher proportion of Quakers was active scientifically within the Royal Society than among their non-Quaker counterparts.13 These data also suggest that a relatively smaller proportion of Quakers joined the Royal Society for purely social reasons. We should also note that although the new statutes of 1847 sought to deter those lacking a scientific reputation, members of ‘the privileged class’ continued to be granted admission to the Society. Two of our number who were Privy Councillors, the Rt Hon William Edward Forster (FRS 1875) and the Rt Hon Lord Justice Sir Edward Fry (FRS 1883), obtained membership by this less rigorous route.

It has to be stressed that much first-rate science was pursued outside the sometimes dreary and unedifying proceedings of the Royal Society. Moreover, certain identifiable groups, such as amateur botanists, which included many Quakers, were not well-represented among FRSs. Membership was restricted in other ways Women were categorically excluded until 1945, while many of those who could not afford the substantial subscription may also have been deflected.14 Hence we must be careful not to assume that any conclusions about the Royal Society apply to the broader scientific community.

Absence of Quakers to c.1710

The first Quaker FRS was Edward Haistwell, a wealthy London merchant who earlier in his career had been amanuensis to George Fox. Apart from serving on Council for one year Haistwell was not active in the Royal Society and his scientific interests—if any—remain obscure.15 Except for Haistwell and the problematic case of Penn, there were no Quaker FRSs during the Society's first half century. The reason for this almost complete absence is to be found in the movement's early character when Friends constituted what one historian has called ‘a group of vagrant and sometimes naked preachers and their ecclesiastically subversive followers’.16 Opposition to Fox and his acolytes was often violent and numerous early Quakers were imprisoned or suffered at the hands of the mob. During its early history the Society of Friends was principally involved in preaching its religious message, in gaining converts and in cementing its network of followers. Most early Quakers would not have encountered the grandees in London who controlled the Royal Society. The ‘Royal’ designation may also have deterred them because of its social and political connotations with royalty and the establishment. One of the few extant comments on the Royal Society by an early Quaker came from the pen of Isaac Penington who, in 1668, addressed a short theological work to the Society. He commended the Society for ‘seeking after the excellency of Nature and Learning’ but warned that such a project should be subsumed within a programme for obtaining religious understanding. He therefore cautioned the Fellows not to limit themselves to studying nature but urged them to ‘know and partake of true wisdom, and feel union with God in… [their] own [lives]’.17

It is difficult to know whether Penington's views were typical of the early generations of Quakers. However, a few early Friends positively encouraged the study of nature as a morally elevating activity suitable for Quakers and as an appropriate subject for instruction. For example, Fox urged that schools should teach natural history and emphasise the usefulness of God's creation. Like other Quakers who crossed the Atlantic, Penn could but marvel at the profusion of God's works—‘Strawberry's ripe in the woods in Aprill… Peas, beans, Cherrys & Mulberrys… The sorts of fish in these parts are excellent and numerous… Mineral[s] here is [in?] great store.’18 Moreover, Thomas Lawson, the Cumbrian botanist, practised science extensively and earned a substantial reputation. However, when he visited London in 1677 Lawson made no attempt to contact the Royal Society, although he subsequently corresponded with John Ray and other Fellows. Lawson's interest was instead directed towards collecting botanical specimens and meeting fellow Quakers.19

Perhaps the most intriguing link between the early Royal Society and the Quakers is to be found in a draft of Penn's Frame of Government for Pennsylvania where he urged that certain matters in the Pennsylvania legislature should ‘be determined by a balloting box as it is now used in the Royal Society at Gresham College’.20 Clears impressed by the way members were elected to the Royal Society by secret ballot, Penn suggested that the same procedure should be adopted in his new Quaker state. Although the passage did not appear when the Frame of Government was printed in 1682, it offers an example of how organisational structures can traverse subject domains.

Wealth and Social Respectability

After minimal contact for half a century, a cohort of three practising Quakers and four ex-Quakers was elected to the Royal Society between 1711 and 1734. During this period Newton and (from 1727) Hans Sloane sat in the Presidential chair. We shall be using the members of this group—especially those who remained Friends—to introduce the main themes in this chapter; the first being wealth and social respectability.

Quaker persecution declined markedly after 1685 and the Toleration Act of 1689 provided another significant moment in their social legitimation. By the early eighteenth century Quakers had ‘settled down… as a highly respectable and rather exclusive “connection”’.21 They were still readily recognisable by their clothing; they maintained their own customs and were subject to discrimination and even imprisonment for failing to pay tithes and church rates. However, general attitudes towards the Quakers were changing as was the Society itself, with increasing emphasis on family connections and on the organisational structure of the movement While there were certainly a few wealthy Friends in the seventeenth century, such as Haistwell, the opening decades of the eighteenth witnessed not only a significant improvement in their economic position, but more importantly in the eyes of contemporaries they became increasingly respectable.

Silvanus Bevan and Peter Collinson were early Quakers with commercial interests who were accepted as gentlemen and Welcomed into the Royal Society. Bevan was admitted to the Society of Apothecaries in 1715 and rapidly built up the highly successful Plough Court Pharmacy just off Lombard Street in the City of London. Ten years later he was elected to the Royal Society. Collinson, the son of a woollen draper, took over his father's business but also began trading in seeds and plants particularly from America. Although his interest in botany had started as a hobby, he was elected to the Royal Society in 1728 and by the mid-1730s he had worked up a flourishing business with extensive contacts on both sides of the Atlantic. Collinson played a key role in providing British collectors with exotics from America, often obtained from his Quaker contacts in Pennsylvania.22

Contemporary accounts emphasise that both Collinson and Bevan were not only economically secure but also respected gentlemen. Partly owing to then business successes and partly to financially-advantageous marriages they both lived well and used their wealth judiciously to earn the respect of others. One visitor was greatly impressed by Bevan's ‘beautiful garden’ in Hackney which contained ‘every kind of flowers, plants, and vegetables… [and] the noble statue of the Gladiator… In the house [were] a variety of curious paintings and rich old china… He is visited by most great men of taste.’23 Likewise Collinson cultivated his own attractive gardens at Peckham and later at Mill Hill that were admired by main visitors. He counted numerous gentry and nobility among his clients and also supplied plants and seeds to the Apothecaries' Gardens at Chelsea and the Royal Gardens at Kew. The substantial houses owned by Collinson and Bevan and their ornamental gardens well-stocked with unusual imported plants are indications not only of their wealth but also of their cultivated and respectable lifestyle.

Many later Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs were also wealthy. They were often the sons of successful Quaker families that had accrued considerable affluence (and often land) through business, through manufacturing and through banking. Luke Howard, for example, was the son of an affluent tin-plate manufacturer from whom he received a settlement of £10,000, and he also married into a wealthy family of city merchants. Richard Phillips, the chemist, and his geologist brother William were from a family with substantial investments in mining and country property. Thomas Young inherited a house, a library, paintings and approximately £10,000 following the death of a kinsman, Dr Richard Brocklesby, in 1797. Robert Were Fox hailed from a family with extensive banking and manufacturing interests in Devon and Cornwall.24 Yet there were some apparent counterexamples that, on closer examination, often confirm the preceding generalisation. Thus although Silvanus P. Thompson was the son of a schoolmaster at Bootham, his grandfather was a manufacturing chemist in Liverpool and his mother hailed from the well-established Tatham family who owned a successful pharmaceutical business in Settle.25 One of the few genuine exceptions was John Dalton who gained financial security only alter receiving a Civil List Pension of £150 per annum in 1833, rising three years later to £250.26

Career patterns are also highly relevant. Many of the Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs had attended schools set up by Friends for the sons of Friends, such as Grove House (in Tottenham), Wigton (Cumbria), Ackworth and Bootham (in Yorkshire).27 Although Quakers controlled their own schools, which often emphasised science subjects, subsequent career choices and educational opportunities were limited. Many proceeded into the so-called ‘innocent trades’ such as iron smelting, food production and medicine. Of the three traditional professions—the clergy, the law and medicine—only the last was open and particularly attractive live Quakers. Occupational patterns did however change, with the legal profession becoming an increasingly viable option in the nineteenth century. Moreover, although in the late eighteenth century a few ex-Quakers entered Parliament, it was not until 1833 that the first practising Quaker was elected. Six Members of Parliament are included in our list of FRSs, and it may be no coincidence that all six were disowned by the Friends.28 Perhaps due to its strong involvement in worldly matters a political career did not sit easily with Quaker practice? Less easily, it seems, than a career in science.

All branches of the medical profession proved attractive to Quakers. In almost every town and city where there was a sizeable meeting house Quaker physicians, surgeons and apothecaries were in evidence, often playing a major role in founding hospitals and dispensaries. However, Quakers could not gain degrees at either Oxford or Cambridge until the Test Acts were repealed in 1871. Although the zoologist J. J. Lister was the first practising Quaker on our list to obtain a Cambridge degree (BA 1880), Thomas Young had commenced studies at Cambridge several months before his disownment in 1798. Probably the main attraction of a Cambridge degree was that it enabled him to obtain a Fellowship at the Royal College of Physicians.29

Prior to Cambridge Young had conformed to Quaker norms by studying at London, Edinburgh and on the Continent. It is interesting to note that many Quakers, including several other FRSs, followed a similar educational trajectory. Thus in the 1730s the eminent physician Dr John Fothergill had studied at Edinburgh and St Thomas's Hospital in London, where he subsequently practised.30 Some Quaker doctors also studied for a time on the Continent—Leyden being popular until the early nineteenth century; thereafter Paris or one of the German universities. It has even been suggested that the Test Acts help to explain the success of Quakers in science and medicine during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries since they were thereby spared an Oxbridge education and instead attended universities that often offered a far superior education in science.31

Apothecaries feature significantly on our list of Quaker FRSs. To become an apothecary required extensive training including attendance at medical lectures while serving an apprenticeship under an established apothecary. Apprenticeship was expensive, parents paying about £250 in the late eighteenth century place a son in a respectable London establishment.32 The Plough Court Pharmacy, with its strong tradition in developing and manufacturing pharmaceuticals, is important since it produced six Quakers who were elected to the Royal Society.33 It may not only have been modesty but also a sense of social hierarchy that caused Daniel Hanbury to express the ‘feeling that it would be invidious were the honour of membership [of the Royal Society] conferred on a pharmaceutist who had really accomplished so little for science’.34 The pharmacy at Plough Court also offers a microcosm of Quaker society with its nexus of business and family connections. The families of these pharmacists frequently inter-married and were also involved in joint business ventures. The firm of Allen and Hanbury, which still exists, was founded by two of these Quaker dynasties.

Medicine and pharmacy were often related to the themes of philanthropy and social reform.35 One of the earliest FRSs on our list, John Bellers, was an ardent reformer and devised schemes for the education of poor children and for prison reform. In 1714 he published a small book containing elaborate plans for an extensive national health service which, he argued, was necessary for the physical, economic and moral health of the nation. This project was to be funded by the state which was also required to endow the Royal Society generously, ‘the better to Enable them to carry on that Useful and Grand Design, of improving Men in the Knowledge of NATURE… of which MEDICINE is the principal Branch’. Thus the Royal Society was accorded a crucial role in his visionary plan for the advancement of medicine and medical care. The Royal Society was also expected to reward with prizes those who made new discoveries. Needless to say none of these proposals was adopted. Later, however, Karl Marx was greatly enamoured with Beller's writings and celebrated him as one of the precursors of communism.36

Subsequent Quaker FRSs were also heavily involved in philanthropic schemes. In the second half of the eighteenth century Fothergill, Lettsom and the ex-Quaker Dimsdale were major proponents of mass inoculation against smallpox, with Lettsom particularly involved in both the Society for Inoculating the Poor and the General Dispensary, which was better able to deliver preventive medicine to the less affluent population of London. Fothergill supported John Woolman's anti-slavery campaign and John Howard's work on prison reform. Lettsom was likewise active in the prison reform movement, freed his slaves on Tortola, and was a prime mover in the Royal Humane Society. Fothergill was the founder of a medical society (c.1752) and Lettsom was one of the founders in 1773 of the Medical Society of London, which challenged the Royal Colleges and their vested interest in retaining the professional separation between physicians, surgeons and apothecaries.37 Likewise, in the cruel 1790s the pharmacist William Allen founded a soup kitchen to help feed the poor in London and served on Count Rumford's committee of the Society for Bettering the Condition of the Poor. Soon he was also involved in propagating Jenner's views on vaccination. One of his reasons for pursuing science was that he conceived it as the handmaiden to his philanthropic activities. For example, scientific knowledge was required in order to produce cheap, nutritious soup and curative medicines.38 Later in life Allen retired from his pharmaceutical business in order to devote himself to philanthropic projects. He became a roving envoy founding schools for the poor and trying to resolve international conflicts.

A major change in the Royal Society occurred around the mid-nineteenth century when a concerted move was made to undercut the traditional system of patronage by limiting membership to those who had made contributions to science.39 Over the ensuing decades the proportion of FRSs who were not scientifically productive fell significantly. Although interested amateurs continued to join, they were increasingly displaced by those who held scientific posts, especially in universities. This trend is strongly reflected by several late Victorian academics who appear in Appendix 1, including William Miller, William Harvey, Joseph Lister, Edward Tylor, Daniel Oliver, the Brady brothers, John Cash and Silvanus Thompson.40 Of those Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs living at the turn of the century the only representative of the continuing amateur tradition was the lawyer and botanist Edward Fry.

Social Construction of the Quaker FRS

In the preceding chapter we sought to interrelate science and religion through biographical narratives. Although the biographies of individuals play only a minor role in studies of institutions, there are some apposite questions to be asked about the relation between an institution and the personal qualities of its members. Certain personal characteristics may be fostered by an institution, while those people who are seen as deficient are often excluded. In the Society of Friends much emphasis is placed on personal responsibility and the importance of developing Quakerly values and virtues. Although Quakers do not subscribe to a creed, much of their literature, from Fox's writings to the current edition of Quaker Faith and Practice, emphasises discipline and contains prescriptions for individual behaviour. Thus the social norms of the Society of Friends are relevant to this study, particularly those that can be related to science.

William Allen's diary is a breathtaking document. He appears to have possessed boundless energy and to have crammed a vast amount into his three-score years and ten. Quaker meetings, spiritual meditations, science, philanthropy, business and travels abroad—together with three marriages—seem to have occupied his every moment. Reflections on what he must achieve even invaded his nights: ‘On waking at night’, he wrote on 1 March 1823, ‘my mind was sweetly contrited and comforted in the feeling of divine goodness and my own nothingness. Dedicated myself afresh to the service of my dear Lord and Master.’41 Yet his diary not only provides an account of his own life but also indicates how a devout Quaker was expected to behave. It is noticeable that many of the other Quakers on our list were vigorous men who not only filled their lives profitably but refused to waste time. For example, the London surgeon Jonathan Hutchinson wrote to his wife claiming that he had been busy all morning and was feeling energetic: ‘It seems a general impression that my attempt to resuscitate the London Hospital reports will fail. Oh the lack of zeal [on the part of others]!’ He then recounted the views of Dr John Rutty, an eighteenth-century Quaker surgeon in Ireland. ‘He used to bewail the sloth of the Dublin Apothecaries, who would not meet him at six o'clock in the morning… I think I shall write an essay on Zest of Existence, Appetite of Life, or some such title.’ In a later letter the puritanical Hutchinson succinctly summed up his attitude: ‘All waste is sin, whether of time, energy, or material.’42

This requirement to live life to the full was coupled with the demand that the Quaker should not be capricious but present a serious demeanour. From the start of the movement frivolous activities were proscribed. Thus in his Apology for the True Christian Divinity, first published in 1676, Robert Barclay warned against participating in ‘gambling, diversions, and frolicsome pleasures… to play cards, roll dice, and dance… to sing, fiddle, or pipe… to use stage-plays and comedies’. Instead, Quakers were exhorted to be humble, dress modestly and spend their time wisely and usefully.43 Religious observance and, increasingly throughout the latter part of the eighteenth century, good works were accepted as the marks of a devout Friend. With many other avenues closed to them, science was highly acceptable to many Quakers precisely because it was a sober endeavour that not only led to truth but also displayed the hand of a rational, providential designer. A high degree of commitment and determination often accompanied the Quaker scientist's sober pursuit of truth. As Hudson Gurney wrote in his memoir of Thomas Young:

His parents were… [among] the strictest of a sect, whose fundamental principle it is, that the perception of what is right and wrong, to its minutest ramifications, is to be looked for in the immediate influence of a supreme intelligence, and that therefore the individual is to act upon this lead where it may, and compromise nothing. To the bent of these early impressions he [Young] was accustomed in afterlife to attribute, in some degree, the power he so eminently possessed of an imperturbable resolution to effect any object on which he was engaged, which he brought to bear on everything he undertook.…44

This seriousness and goal-directedness could sometimes be overbearing. Caroline Fox, a ‘gay Quaker’ and the daughter of the scientist Robert Were Fox, received the following account from the French physicist Dominique Arago. Arago had met John Dalton at a social gathering and described him as a strait-laced and rather traditional Quaker who ‘could not take a joke at all. Once when Dalton had taken a glass of wine, Arago, who does not drink any remarked, “Why, you are quite a debauchee compared to me.”’ Dalton took this remark ‘very ill’ and apparently never recovered from it all evening.45

Despite adopting an earnest approach to their science, many Quakers appreciated that neither science nor business should be viewed as their ultimate goals. Repeatedly Quakers were warned that while they should be in this world they should not be of the world Science, business ventures or any other worldly activity could lead members to compromise their religious fidelity. The young William Allen was cautioned by an elderly woman at his Meeting House who warned

lest my ardent desire for knowledge, even with laudable intention of benefiting mankind, should eclipse the lustre of that inestimable gift, which she believed was bestowed upon me. Her discourse was delivered with great affection, and enforced with energy. O! could I believe that I should ever attain—that I should struggle through the briars and thorns, how would my soul rejoice! But the sickening prospect of those who have failed by the was, and the humiliating sense of my own weakness and unworthyness, at times almost weigh me down.

In many of his early diary entries he expressed similar concerns. Thus after delivering a successful lecture at the Royal Institution he wrote: ‘May I be preserved and never give up my principles, for the empty applause of the world, which, in a trying hour, will yield no support!’46 Likewise, having recently obtained his Bachelor of Arts degree at London University, the overconfident nineteen-year-old Silvanus Thompson was deflated by John Bright, the eminent Liberal politician and Quaker, who rebuked him with the words: ‘Nature provides a very convenient safety-valve for knowledge too rapidly acquired!’ However, Thompson subsequently admitted that he recognised the wisdom of Bright's admonition. Like several of the other Quaker FRSs on our list Thompson became a minister and elder in the Society of Friends. He enjoyed a successful career in science and science education—he was the biographer of both Faraday and Kelvin and served as Principal of Finsbury Technical College. Yet he remained a modest, humble Quaker who was greatly involved in the sect's affairs and played a major role in the 1895 Manchester Conference at which a new synthesis of tradition and modernity was hammered out.47

Those Quakers covered in this study appear not to have viewed scientific knowledge as a threat to their religion but to have acknowledged a high degree of convergence between these two domains. For example, Thompson claimed that his science and his Quakerism were mutually supporting; the search for truth was paramount in both activities. Thus in his 1915 Swarthmore Lecture entitled The Quest for Truth, he argued that since science is one of the surest roads to Truth, the pursuit of science was an important, worthwhile activity for a devout Quaker. Moreover, he claimed that, owing to the method of experimental verification by independent workers, science provides a much higher standard of truth than is found in most other domains.48

The status of the Bible has been a matter of contention throughout Quaker history, but for many the Bible has been more a source of inspiration than the canonical basis for religion. The individual must heed his or her inner light and accept the responsibility to decide what is true and how to lead a moral, worthwhile life. This lack of dogma seems to have enabled Quakers not only to pursue science but to pursue it in a relatively unencumbered manner. Thus, for example, Quaker schools have generally evinced more enthusiasm for science education than have their Anglican counterparts. But there is a related point worth making concerning the organisational structure of the Society of Friends. Despite the emphasis on discipline, each member is encouraged to form his or her own view on any subject. In the search after religious truth Quakers have usually emphasised toleration and the need to hear all viewpoints in meetings; the aim of the meeting being to try to forge a consensus acceptable to all parties. Although this ideal has not always worked in practice, it may have helped inculcate a similarly open attitude towards science. From this perspective scientific theories are acknowledged as tentative and, at best, stations on the road to truth, not immovable dogmas that have to be defended against all criticism. Moreover, from the earliest days of the movement there was a deep suspicion of systems, whether in theology, philosophy or science.

This thesis is corroborated if we examine how our Quakers responded to Darwin's theory of evolution, which caused such ructions in the Victorian religious world. The admittedly limited evidence to hand suggests that Quaker scientists (like Unitarians and, perhaps, certain other dissenters) were more prepared to entertain Darwin's theory than their Anglican counterparts and did not encounter religious scruples in accepting it. For example, in an early essay dating from 1871 Silvanus Thompson asserted that as a Quaker he found nothing upsetting in Darwin's theory since it did not conflict with religion, when both scientific theory and religions understanding were correctly interpreted. Rejecting biblical creationism as untenable, he insisted that religion must be a rational enterprise. He also welcomed evolution because, like other scientific theories, it displayed God's design and purpose in the physical world.49 The lawyer and amateur botanist Edward Fry responded similarly to Darwin's theory. As he later recounted, the publication of the Origin of Species

caused great uneasiness in the minds of many good people, who felt that Darwin's teaching, and still more the suggestions that arose from his teaching, to be inconsistent with the teachings of the Bible and then hopes of immortality for the human race. I gave a good deal of attention, as every one did, to those new views… but I did not, like so many good people, feel distressed at the influence of Darwin's theory upon my religious views.50

He subsequently wrote a small book of essays in which he urged that science posed no threat to religion; indeed, in his own view, science must lead to ‘a sublime spirituality’. The anthropologist and early Gifford Lecturer Edward Tylor offers a further example, but a somewhat problematic one since he and his wife resigned from the Quakers in 1864. Tylor encompassed the theory of evolution soon after Darwin's book was published and he also shared with the Darwinians a naturalistic perspective and methodology which he applied to the development of human societies. The influence of his Quaker background may nevertheless be apparent in his commitment to the idea of progress and his rejection of ritual and superstition as degenerate.51

A different type of evidence is to be gleaned from the Certificates of Election to the Royal Society which show that Charles Darwin supported both Tylor and the Quaker botanist George Brady. Likewise Thomas Henry Huxley recommended four Friends, and Joseph Hooker added his support for five. Such examples of patronage within the Royal Society suggest that the Darwin circle viewed these Quakers as allies.52 While Quaker responses to Darwinism need to be researched in greater depth, the preceding evidence suggests that Quaker scientists did not perceive Darwin's theory as a threat to religion, but welcomed it as a potential step on the path to truth. Moreover, this attitude to evolution may be indicative of a more general willingness not to encumber science with religious doctrine.

Networking

We turn now to the social structures that have been such a crucial part of the Society of Friends. Not only is the meeting house the centre of Quaker life but Quakerism is an essentially social religion since the individual is locked into a complex organisation with its Monthly Meetings, Quarterly Meetings, Yearly Meetings and Meetings of Sufferings. Responsibility is shared but each individual has a duty to support the organisation. Moreover, the strength of communal Quakerism emphasises the need for the individual to interrelate with others in order to maintain the organisation's fabric. These social and networking functions appear to have been readily carried over into their activities within secular institutions, such as the Royal Society.

It has often been noted how Quakers supported one another in business.53 The same is true of Quaker FRSs, many of whom were linked by business and familial ties. Moreover, in the election of Fellows to the Royal Society, a similar support system operates among Quakers and ex-Quakers. Prior to 1731 a potential member was first proposed by a current FRS. At a subsequent meeting a secret ballot would be held. If successful at the ballot, the new member would be admitted after signing a bond. Bevan proposed both Collinson and the ex-Quaker mathematician Benjamin Robins.54 Beginning in 1731 a new system was introduced. A certificate was now displayed in the Society's rooms for a specified length of time and signed by existing Fellows who wished to support the prospective candidate. Election could only proceed if enough signatures wen collected.55 Thus we possess a record showing that Quakers (and ex-Quakers) often endorsed the candidature of other Quakers and ex-Quakers. For example, William Allen's signature appeals on the certificates of Willan, Gurney, Luke Howard, Prichard, J. J. Lister and Barn, while Dillwyn, Young, Oliver and Hanbury each supported the applications of two or more fellow Quakers (or ex-Quakers). Since certificates were signed by a number of supporters—often a dozen or more—the Quaker vote was not decisive but it does indicate that the Quaker network operated within the Royal Society. Moreover, a supporting statement was required, although during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries this was often a variant of the formula: ‘A gentleman well versed in various parts of natural knowledge.’ Although some Quakers (and particularly ex-Quakers) were supported by this conventional formula, in many instances a far stronger case was mounted. Thus in the certificate that preceded his election in 1821 Howard was described as the ‘Author of the Climate of London and several other Meteorological Papers’.56

It is striking what a central role Quakers and, particularly, ex-Quakers have played in maintaining the Royal Society's organisation. If we turn first to those elected in the 1710s-1730s, Thomas Birch's career illustrates how a less affluent ex-Quaker could obtain respect, trust and social status through connection with the Royal Society. The son of a coffee-mill maker from Clerkenwell, he was educated by Quakers and served as an usher at Quaker schools until 1726. His exclusion would have predated his marriage to a curate's daughter in 1728, two years before he was baptised. Although he subsequently made his career in the Church of England, rising to the Presidency of Sion College, his reputation rested primarily on his various literary ventures, his Secretaryship of the Royal Society (1752–65) and the major role he played in founding the British Museum. Birch's most recent cut biographer has emphasised that he was a hard-working ‘self-made man’ who ‘must have been very aware of the indolence of those of superior station. However, he had a genius for friendship.’57 This description could equally apply to John Bellers, Collinson or Bevan. All four worked hard to achieve their positions but were also highly successful in their dealings with others and cultivated acquaintances from a wide range of occupations and social positions. The emerging sense of family and community among the Quakers may have given these men a social advantage in dealing with other people in a kindly and generous manner. Moreover, their Quaker back-ground may have proved helpful in distancing them from contemporary political and religious controversies so that they could be accepted by protagonists on all sides.

It is important to stress the centrality of this small group of Quakers and ex-Quakers in maintaining the organisational structure of the Royal Society. Not only was Birch one the Secretaries for a thirteen-year period, but he served on Council for a total of eighteen years, while John Bellers, Silvanus Bevan, John Collinson and the ex-Quaker instrument maker George Graham also served on Council, the last two on a number of occasions. The three practising Quakers in this group must have looked conspicuous in their plain, black dress and broad hats. During the period from 1720 to the mid-1760s there was an almost continuous presence of Quakers and ex-Quakers on the twenty-one man Council; indeed for twelve years two of them served.58 The effect of these Quakers and ex-Quakers on the running of the Royal Society has yet to be ascertained, but their presence is a reflection of their standing as honest, respected and respectable Fellows. Their names also appear in connection with other aspects of the Society's activities. For example, Collinson and Birch were among the eight Fellows who signed Benjamin Franklin's membership certificate, while Graham worked on the construction of John Harrison's chronometers and played a significant role in defining and producing the standard yard; both major practical projects directed by the Society.59

The Royal Society offered many attractions to these Quakers and ex-Quakers. Through the Society Collinson, Bevan, Birch and Graham all found customers for their business ventures selling (respectively) plants, medicines, books and instruments. But the social advantages gained through this connection were even more important. Birch in particular aligned his career with the Royal Society, becoming not only one of its two secretaries but also the author of its four-volume History and Robert Boyle's biographer and editor.60 There is also much evidence that Collinson and, to a lesser extent, Bevan expanded their business and personal connections well beyond the Quaker community through their contacts at the Royal Society. Moreover, these Quakers would have found the Royal Society a congenial venue since the Society officially espoused a non-denominational and non-political ideology.

This tradition of service to the Royal Society continued into the nineteenth century. Over that period Quakers and ex-Quakers were twice as strongly represented on Council when compared with the overall membership. Following Thomas Birch's example, four other ex-Quakers became officers of the Society; Thomas Young was Foreign Secretary from 1804 until his death in 1829, William Miller held the Vice-Presidency and was also Treasurer, Henry Head was Vice-President in 1916–17, and Lord Lister, after two years as Foreign Secretary, was President from 1895 to 1900. That five ex-Quakers became officers of the Society may indicate the perpetuation of social commitments instilled during their Quaker upbringing. Another form of service is seen in the case of Henry Bowman Brady who bequeathed to the Royal Society his books and papers on Protozoa together with the sum of £800.

Although the Royal Society had been the only major scientific society in England during the early decades of the eighteenth century, a number of other scientific societies existed by the mid-nineteenth. Many of these, like the Linnean and Geological Societies, were London-based and were limited to a specific subject area, while outside the metropolis there existed a mixture of generalist and specialist groups. Quakers were often prominent in these organisations. Two examples will suffice. Jonathan Hutchinson ‘presided over the Hunterian [Society in 1869], in 1879 over the Pathological, and in 1883 over the Opthalmological. Then in 1887 he was president of the Neurological, in 1890 of the Medical, and in 1894 of the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society.’ He was also President of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1889–90. Not surprisingly, he did not attend meetings of the Royal Society regularly, although he valued his Fellowship greatly.61 The second example is the botanist John Gilbert Baker, whose role curiously parallels that of Peter Collinson more than a century earlier. When the London Botanical Society went into abeyance in the late 1850s Baker, who was one of its leading lights, maintained one of the Society's key functions from his home in Thirsk. A founder member of the Think Natural History Society, he turned this small local group into a botanical exchange club with a national clientele. Until a disastrous fire at his premises destroyed his stock eight years later, he played a major organisational role in British botany.62

Although we do not wish to claim that all the 56 Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs were good networkers, many possessed this quality and used it effectively in the confined domain of the Royal Society. Moreover, a number of these FRSs made considerable use of their networking skills both within and without the scientific community. William Allen again provides a prime example since he was continually meeting people of different religious persuasions, different political colours and from diverse social backgrounds. A similar point is made by the biographer of the Cornish scientist Robert Were Fox who claimed that ‘Strong as his own religious convictions [were] they did not prevent agreeable and profitable communion with men of every form of religious belief.’63 As the diaries of Fox's son and daughter make clear, the family, home was an open house not only for leading literary figures of the day, such as the Mills and Hartley Coleridges, but also for a wide cross-section of the scientific community. When in London or at a British Association meeting the Foxes were engaged in an almost continuous round of socialising with other scientists.64 A further example comes from Michael Foster's obituary notice of the botanist Henry Bowman Brady, whom he characterised as ‘a friend and a helpmate… His wide knowledge of many branches of scientific inquiry and his large acquaintance with scientific men made the hours spent with him always profitable.’65

The Significance of Natural History, Especially Botany

The Appendix listing 56 Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs contains some surprises. The only mathematician is Benjamin Robins. Moreover, physics, which by the 1830s had become highly mathematical and the cutting edge of science, is vastly under-represented. Since Cambridge was the main breeding ground for mathematically-trained physicists this under-representation may be due in part to Cambridge University's refusal to award degrees to Dissenters throughout most of the century. Chemistry is rather better-represented, especially if its connection with pharmacy is acknowledged. But the subject that occurs most frequently on the list is botany, not only among those who were professionally engaged in botany but also among the many others who displayed a keen amateur enthusiasm for the subject. Over a third of those listed joined the Linnean Society, founded in 1798. Among the membership of the Linnean Society were many Quakers—often seedsmen and amateur botanists—who had no contact with the Royal. Likewise at least 5.4% of the 371-strong Botanical Society of London were practising Quakers. The significance of this figure becomes clearer when we remember that at this period Quakers constituted less than 0.1% of the population of England and Wales. However, of these twenty Quakers only three became Fellows of the Royal Society.66

An interest in botany can be traced back to the early Quakers. For example, George Fox urged that children should be taught the ‘nature of herbs, roots, plants and trees’ while William Penn, who made contributions to horticulture, likewise considered that Quakers should become competent naturalists.67 Collinson and Fothergill are among the best-known eighteenth-century botanists but there were numerous other Quakers during that period who practised botany. This tradition appears to have continued through the nineteenth century down to John Baker, Daniel Olivet and into our own century. Not was botanical education ignored in Quaker schools; for example, Bootham School, York, developed a strong tradition in the sciences and could boast a Natural History Society from 1834 while children at Ackworth were encouraged to tend their own gardens.68

A vigorous amateur tradition existed. Returning to William Allen's journal we find a number of references to botany and also to the closely-related science of geology: he joined the Linnean Society in 1801 and was one of the founders of the Geological Society in 1807. In March 1801 he reported a botanical field trip with another Quaker to Walthamstow: ‘got through classes and orders’. A few weeks later he and two other young Quakers ‘had a rich feast of Botany, looking over my specimens. They tell me I have one very good thing,—the Juncus acutus.’69 Another example of this thriving amateur tradition is provided by the prominent lawyer Edward Fry whose hobby was the study of mosses. Although he acknowledged that moss appears a humble subject he recommended ‘the study of the Mosses to any, old or young, who really love Nature: I have found in it a great source of pleasure during several years’.70

Like Bevan and Collinson, later Quaker botanists often purchased houses with imposing gardens. Fothergill's garden at Upton was stocked with many exotics, and even some bullfrogs, obtained from Quaker collectors in America. Inviting Lettsom to visit his garden Fothergill advised: ‘be pleased with its beauties, and be thankful to the Author of Nature for decorating the globe with numberless beauties’.71 Following his second marriage in 1806 Allen spent much time at his spacious house in affluent Stoke Newington, while later in the century the Listers lived in Upton House close to the house and gardens once owned by Fothergill. Later Victorians moved further afield. Hutchinson acquired 200 acres near Haslemere in 1872 and built his house with a ‘very large garden, and well laid out, with a charming old orchard, and two massive ancient Yew Trees just behind the house’. Fry purchased a rambling old house at Failand, overlooking the Bristol Channel. Its garden included a pinetum and many species of tree, but its dominant feature (which he designed) was ‘a straight walk tiled with red bricks and with wide borders of grass and of herbaceous plants, leading to a small pond behind which Diana stands robing herself’. Robert Were Fox's garden at Penjerrick near Falmouth has been described as ‘one of the lowliest gardens in England’.72 Men like Hutchinson, Fry and Fox represent the rich, accomplished and cultured Victorians who surrounded themselves with well-stocked gardens and libraries. While such gardens are a statement of social stability, these Quakers also played an active role in botany, thereby combining their social positions, their research interests and their aesthetic and moral appreciation of the natural world. It should come as no surprise to learn that the inventor and manufacturer of the first iron lawnmower was a Quaker!73

While botany flourished among affluent Quakers, a few of our FRSs held key positions in the British botanical establishment. We have already mentioned Baker's success in organising an exchange club, but in his subsequent career he held the positions of Assistant Keeper and (later) Keeper at the Kew Gardens Herbarium. When he accepted the job of Keeper in 1890 he took over from another of our Quaker FRSs, his friend and neighbour Daniel Oliver who had held that post since 1864, having previously been Assistant Keeper for six years. Thus for some four decades these two key positions at Kew were occupied by Quakers. Oliver also held the Chair of Botany at University College, London from 1861 to 1888. The output of these two botanists was prodigious: over 300 papers prior to 1900. Other Quakers on the list also held teaching positions in botany: William Harvey held the chair of Botany in Dublin from 1856, the Newcastle pharmacist Henry Bowman Brady lectured in Botany at Durham College, while his brother, who was also a physician, held the Chair of Natural History at Newcastle. The Brady brothers were both active in local scientific societies and published extensively, Henry principally on Foraminifera and George mainly on algae.

It would be too limiting to confine discussion to botany, since other branches of natural history were often pursued by the Quaker and ex-Quaker FRSs listed in Appendix 1. A number of them carried out research in meteorology, zoology, geology, astronomy and even anthropology. Like botany these subjects were largely observational and classificatory sciences. The evident commitment of Quakers to these branches of natural history has been a surprising outcome of this research and one that clearly deserves further attention. In part our surprise stems from the work of social historians who usually portray Quakers as practical men and entrepreneurs who spearheaded the Industrial Revolution.74 Although the pharmacists on our list often made economic use of their botanical and chemical investigations, it is noticeable that the vast majority of the natural history pursued was decidedly non-utilitarian and that entrepreneurial concerns were not nearly as prominent as one might have expected. In this connection it is worth quoting a letter written in 1822 by Luke Howard to Goethe who had asked him why he had not published any papers on chemistry. Howard's reply was short and decided: ‘C'est notre metier—we have to live by the practice of Chemistry as an art, and not by exhibiting it as a science.’ Instead Howard turned to meteorology and published much important work, especially his essay ‘On the modifications of clouds’ which contains the classification of cloud types still in general use.75

Although it is often difficult to disaggregate the various economic, philanthropic, religious and scientific factors affecting Quaker FRSs, their involvement in science is not reducible to economic forces. Instead, the religious appreciation of nature seems to have played a part, often a highly significant part. It should be noted that botany and other branches of natural history were principally experiential sciences. They bring the observer into a direct relation with God's creation and are the source of both aesthetic pleasure and religious enlightenment. This enthusiasm for natural history found incisive expression in a letter from the surgeon Jonathan Hutchinson to his wife. ‘Botany’, he wrote, ‘is really a knowledge of the works of the Deity in plant life: what plants are, and how they have become so; and is full of the beautiful and wonderful.’ Likewise, after instructing one of his American correspondents on how to pack specimens, John Fothergill stated that the ‘useful, the beautiful, the singular or the fragrant are to us the most material’. But, he added, ‘in the midst of all this attention, forget not the one thing needful. In studying nature forget not its author.’76 Astronomy offered similar attractions and at least four of the FRSs listed in Appendix 1 constructed private observatories at their homes. One of these men, William Allen, recorded that astronomy offered him great pleasure and that at night he often retired to his observatory to witness God's sublime creation. As he emphasised in one of his lectures at Guy's Hospital, the importance of astronomy lay in its demonstration that ‘the sustaining hand of God is still necessary, and [that] the present order and harmony which he has enabled us to understand and admire, is wholly dependent upon his will’.77 This evocation of natural theology possesses a conventional ring, but it clearly demonstrates that Allen was deeply affected by observations of the natural world that led him to a fuller appreciation of God the Creator.

Since the religious sentiments expressed by Hutchinson, Fothergill and Allen were often repeated by the other Quaker (and ex-Quaker) FRSs we have examined, we are clearly dealing with a belief that was shared by the group. Indeed, the moral and theological dimensions of natural history (in its broader sense) appear to have proved particularly attractive to Quakers. As the editor of Allen's diary stated, he possessed a ‘taste for philosophical pursuits’.78 Allen, like many of the other FRSs discussed above, turned this ‘taste’ into scientific activitity and involvement in the Royal Society of London. Natural theology and the other factors examined in this chapter go a long way towards explaining not only the attraction of science but also why Quakers, as a group, have played such an important role in the Royal Society.