The Royal Society of London

The Society was empowered by its 1662 Royal Charter to publish, and the first two books it produced were John Evelyn’s Sylva, or A discourse of forest-trees and propogation of timbers in his Majesties dominions in 1664, and Robert Hooke’s Micrographia, or Some physiological descriptions of minute bodies made by magnifying glasses: with discussions and inquiries thereupon in 1665.

Also in 1665 the first issue of the Philosophical Transactions was edited by Henry Oldenburg, the Society’s Secretary. Initially published by Oldenburg at his own expense, the Philosophical Transactions appeared in small numbers of only a sheet or two at roughly monthly intervals as material was supplied.

The Philosophical Transactions included many of the papers read at the Royal Society, but Oldenburg also included scientific information he acquired from other channels including analyses of books on science.

The Society took over publication some years later and the Philosophical Transactions is now the oldest scientific journal in continuous publication.

From the beginning, Fellows of the Society had to be elected, although the criteria for election were vague and the vast majority of the Fellowship were not professional scientists. The rules for Fellowship were relaxed for the nobility, with Charles II declaring himself patron, founder and, along with Prince Rupert, a Fellow.

In 1731 a new rule established that each candidate for election had to be proposed in writing and this written certificate signed by those who supported his candidature. These certificates survive and give a glimpse of both the reasons why Fellows were elected and the complex network of contacts between Fellows.

After initially residing at Gresham College, the Society moved several times as it outgrew its various accommodations.

In 1780 it moved to premises at Somerset House, an arrangement made by Sir Joseph Banks, who had become President in 1778 and was to remain so until his death in 1820.

Banks was in favour of maintaining a mixture among the Fellowship of working scientists and wealthy amateurs who might become their patrons and whose subscriptions would help keep the Society solvent in the absence of government funding.

This view grew less popular in the first half of the nineteenth century, and in 1847 the Society decided that in future Fellows would be elected solely on the merits of their scientific work.

This new professional approach meant that the Society was no longer just a learned society but also de facto an academy of scientists. The government recognised this in 1850 by giving a grant to the Society of £1000 to assist scientists in their research and to buy equipment. Therefore, a government grant system was established and a close relationship began, which nonetheless allowed the Society, with its staff of two, to maintain the autonomy essential for independent scientific research.

Over the next century the work and staff of the Society expanded. In 1967 it moved to its present location on Carlton House Terrace with a staff that has now grown to over 120, all working to further the Royal Society’s roles as independent scientific academy, learned society and funding body.

The Royal Society’s motto Nullius in verba — ‘Take no-one’s word for it’ — is an expression of the determination of the Fellows to withstand the domination of authority (such as in scholasticism) and to verify all statements by an appeal to facts determined by experiment.

The Latin words are taken from a passage of Horace in which the poet compares himself to a gladiator, who, having earned a peaceful retirement, is now free from control.

Nullius in verba was chosen to accompany the coat of arms granted to the Society by Charles II in the second charter of 1663.

The arms were described by Thomas Sprat as follows: ‘On a Field Argent a Canton of the three Lyons of England: For a Crest, an Eagle Proper on a Ducal Coronet supporting a Shield charged with the Lyons aforesaid; and for Supporters, two Talbots with Coronets on their Necks.’

The symbolism of the ‘Talbots’, a type of hound, lay in their hunting instincts: ‘for the Tenderness of their Scent, and the Quickness of Smelling, because they doe readily discover and find out’.

The highlight of the exhibition’s introductory section is a document titled ‘Directions for Sea-men bound for far voyages’. Formulated by Lawrence Rooke in 1661, the document lists the type of information sailors should try to gather during voyages of exploration — an indication that the Royal Society’s founders were intent on fostering the acquisition of knowledge from travels and expeditions far from their London base.

From its earliest years, the Royal Society’s roles as a repository for international scientific information and as an organisation for the testing and dissemination of scientific discoveries placed it at the forefront of new developments that reflected the interests of the era. One of those developments — and it was one in which the interests of the British state were closely involved — was the prosecution of voyages of discovery to the distant reaches of the globe. Accurate maps and details of trade routes were closely guarded state secrets, and the sources of information more generally available offered a mixture of mythical tales, accounts derived from poorly translated ancient texts, and geographical insights garnered from the Bible. So unreliable were the tales of sailors generally held to be, that the Casa da India (the Portuguese department of trade, established in Lisbon in 1500–01) required its pilots to swear on the Bible that the information contained within their voyage accounts and charts was true.