Odd this day

Coates
4 min readApr 25, 2023

--

As it’s 25 April, it must be time to celebrate the 310th anniversary of somebody trying to get a smiley face burnt onto a bit of wood into the private collection which would eventually form the basis of the British Museum.

A crudely drawn smiling face scorched onto a flat squarish piece of wood, with trimmed corners, making it kind of octagonal

It was on this day in 1713, you see, that someone who called himself ‘Tim Cockleshell’ wrote to Hans Sloane enclosing this exciting new item for his extensive collection of objects from around the world. His letter read:

Most Curious Sr, Having, in my Travels thro’ ye West Indies, met with this Catoptrical Adustion I thought it might not be altogether unworthy a place in your famous Nicknackatory. ’Twas given me by a Bramine who affirm’d it to be an Original of one of the Antient Kings of Mexico. I desire, Sr, you wou’d please to shew it to your Fellow Naturals, especially to the learned & ingenious Dr Woodwd, upon whose approbation I intend to be at the Charge of having a Print taken from it.

Whoever Tim Cockleshell was, he was taking the piss. This was given him by a Brahmin — i.e., from the priestly caste of the Indian subcontinent — and depicted an “Antient King” of Mexico, did it? Righto. (Never mind what a “Catoptrical Adustion” might be.)

A ‘nicknackatory’, incidentally, is — according to Francis Grose’s Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1811) — a toy ſhop.

NICKNACKS. Toys, baubles, or curiofities. NICKNACKATORY. A toy fhop. NICKUMPOOP, or NINCUM POOP. A foolish fellow; alfo one who never faw his wife’s ****. NIFFYNAFFY FELLOW. A trifler.
I would have cropped this image more, but the definition of ‘nickumpoop’, while irrelevant, was too good to leave out

This wasn’t the only mockery Hans was subjected to. In The Transactioneer, a satire written 13 years earlier, one William King had mocked the Royal Society’s Secretary for the undiscriminating eclecticism of his collection

Sir, he hath not so much as neglected an ear-picker or a rusty razor, for he values any thing that comes from the Indies or China at a high rate; for, were it but a pebble or a cockle-shell from thence, he would soon write a comment upon it, and perpetuate its memory upon a copper-plate.

…hence the name on this letter — and King had a point. Just one part of Sloane’s collection, Vegetable Substances, had a “three-volume handwritten catalogue … [which] lists 12,523 items”, and included

“[a] snake stick being a branch of an oak tree so involuted as to imitate the coiling of a snake the ends of which are shapd to resemble the head & tail”; “A knot of an Oak from Yorkshire wherein the fibrills are turn’d very curiously into circular and other forms. The whole resembling in some manner the Head of a Dogg”; and “shoes made of … bark & straps of seals skins.”

Sloane’s collecting started when he travelled to Jamaica in 1687 as doctor to the governor, the Duke of Albemarle. When he came back two years later, he brought with him hundreds of plant specimens — and “the duke’s body preserved in a cask”.

While in Jamaica, he’d met colonist, slave-owner, and doctor Fulke Rose (and together they had treated former privateer Henry Morgan, of Captain Morgan rum fame). When Rose died, Sloane married his widow, whose wealth further fuelled Sloane’s collecting.

Sloane had cash of his own — being physician to Queen Anne, George I, and George II, he was what Tom Lehrer once described as the sort of doctor who specialises in diseases of the rich — but this marriage means that much of his collecting — and therefore, much of what’s in the British Museum — was financed by slavery (and that’s leaving aside the controversy over objects which were either rescued or nicked, depending on who you ask).

(Sloane is sometimes also credited with ‘inventing’ chocolate milk, which… isn’t entirely accurate.)

We might also ask why Sloane married Elizabeth anyway, given that one of his fellow collectors, William Courten, was — according to Sloane biography, Collecting the World — his “very particular and intimate friend”.

Front cover: Collecting the World — The Life and Curiosity of Hans Sloane, by James Delbourgo

Maybe, just maybe, it was the money — which allowed him to build a network of suppliers of Stuff from around the world. Sooner or later…

There were more than three hundred volumes of dried plants in his herbarium, around fifty thousand books and manu-scripts, more than one hundred albums of drawings, and over thirty-two thousand coins, as well as fossils, shells, corals, and animal parts (horns, bones, and preserved specimens).

He also bought other collectors’ collections when they died or just needed to sell. In fact, in 1702, he bought his ‘friend’ William Courten’s family collection, worth £50,000, for £2,500, so William could pay off his late father’s debts.

It’s usually said that Sloane left his collection of 71,000 objects to the nation, forming the basis for the British Museum. In fact, his trustees were instructed to sell it to George II for “the bargain price of £20,000”. One of them, Horace Walpole, wrote:

He valued it at fourscore thousand; and so would anybody who loves hippopotamuses, sharks with one ear, and spiders as big as geese! It is a rent charge to keep the foetuses in spirit! You may believe that those who think money the most valuable of all curiosities, will not be purchasers.

The king initially turned it down, on the grounds that “he did not believe there are twenty thousand pounds in the Treasury”, but after the matter was raised in parliament, the act establishing the British Museum passed on 7 June 1753.

The crucial question, though, is obvious: is this ridiculous smiley face in the British Museum? Well, Sloane was not taken in — the name of the sender and the use of the word ‘nicknackatory’ presumably being enough to tell him this was a precursor to Edna Welthorpe and…

Front covers: The Timewaster Letters, Robin Cooper; Delete This At Your Peril! The Bob Servant Emails by Neil Forsyth; David Thorne, The Internet is a Playground; The Complete Henry Root Letters

BUT! Rather magnificently, he kept both the letter and the very silly object, and both remain in the British Library (Sloane Manuscripts 4043 ff. 143–5, if you want to go and have a look) so they are part of this nation’s rich and glorious heritage. Hurrah!

--

--

Coates
Coates

Written by Coates

Purveyor of niche drivel; marker of odd anniversaries

No responses yet