I blame it all on SCUBA diving! If it weren’t for all the
marvelous sights and creatures I saw when I dove I wouldn’t
have this craving for information about seashells. I started
collecting shells seriously about 15 years ago. My first shell book
was acquired about 20 minutes after I obtained the first shell that
I couldn’t identify. That first book, by the late Gary
Magnotte, was a simple snorkeler/beachcomber guide for visitors to
South Florida. It introduced me to the endless varieties of
seashells and to the methods for scientifically identifying them.
As I collected more during my diving trips and became a true
collector, I began to search out other collectors whose interests
were similar to mine. This led me to shell shows where collectors
display their prized shell collectibles. It was through these
associations that I realized that I was almost as interested in the
science of shells as I was in the shells themselves. That interest
led me to reference works that described how new species are named,
how they are analyzed and compared to other similar species, and
where the species lives. In researching the scientific names for my
shells, I found that many references made to these species were to
very ancient publications, some, in fact, were more than 200 years
old. My curiosity was piqued, since I knew where I had found the
shells, as to how the ?old guys’ had found or acquired their
specimens. I went to my local public library and found that these
reference works were not available. A helpful librarian suggested
that I try the Marine Science Library at Florida Atlantic
University, Boca Raton, Fl. FAU had received a donation of shells
and shell literature from a family in Delray Beach. This collection
contained several early works on shells. I was told that the books
were in the rare book room and required a professor’s
permission to be viewed. I had met an FAU professor at a shell show
and prevailed upon him to allow me access to the collection. That
single event convinced me to begin building a reference library of
my own. I don’t stand in lines very well; waiting for a book
was not my idea of a productive day. It was worth the wait, however,
because the quality of the illustrated figures and information was
outstanding. I realized then that I had to develop a strategy to
acquire the foundation works in the area of conchology (the study of
shells).
In the 1750s a scientist named Carolus Linnaeus (or Linne’)
proposed a system of classification of all plants and animals called
binomial nomenclature, from the Latin bi-two nomen
name. Linnaeus produced Systema Naturae, where he
classified all known plants and animals by this binomial system.
Unfortunately, he created his system from shells that were in
museums or took them from earlier published works. The older
publications became very important to systematic research as they
formed the foundation of the early names. The early works by Lister,
Buonanni, Rumphius, Poli, and Gaultheria are referred to as
pre-Linnaean works.
My first antiquarian shell book was Lamarck’s
Conchology, by E. A. Crouch. I traded seashells that I had
found on Bahamas dive trips for the book. In trading a bunch of
shells for a hand-colored 170-year old book, I felt as if I were
stealing. What a deal!!! As I studied the book, I understood why it
had been written. In the late 1700s and early 1800s authors
introduced many new species, but many of the publications merely
documented a specimen in a private collection. The lack of a
pictorial reference caused much confusion as there was no standard
system to describe a species. Lamarck, a French naturalist, proposed
a substantive expansion to the classification for mollusks that
Linnaeus had introduced some 50 years earlier. Since Napoleon was
busy about the continent pillaging, the flow of information between
Europe and Great Britain was very limited. Crouch’s book was
the first that illustrated pictorially the new introductions
proposed by Lamarck. It took some 20 years for the British to accept
and integrate Lamarck’s genera into the Linnaean system. In the
mid-1800s the British and the French were the leaders in publishing
these natural history works. Entrepreneurs promoted shell collecting
as a method for aristocrats to display their cultural contributions,
and whole cottage industries were created to support these
endeavors. Shells were such a prized possession by some wealthy
patrons that in a sale of the Pierre Lyonnet collection in
Amsterdam, a now priceless painting by Vermeer, The Lady in Blue
Reading, brought 43 guilders at auction. In the same auction,
five lots later, a Conus cedonulli, a shell worth
about $100 today, sold for 178 guilders! How times have changed.
As I acquired more books, I found that many had interesting
stories associated with them. Competition between countries to
become the foremost authorities in areas of arts and sciences was
the rule of the day. Renowned naturalists were recruited by kings
and queens in much the same fashion as professional sports players
are recruited today. The books I have collected help tell and
preserve these stories. I, for one, feel that they are stories worth
preserving. Old naturalist colorplate works are popular now for
their value as framed prints. It is a sad commentary on our times
that many of these titles are broken apart and are now worth more as
decorative prints than they are to the field of natural history. I
hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
— Wayne Harland