Withering-type botanical microscope, 1780
The “Withering-type Microscope” is named for its inventor, Dr. William Withering (1741-1799), an English physician and botanist who graduated with a degree in medicine 1766 in Edinburgh. Inspired by the taxonomical work and systematic classification of Carl Linnæus (1707-1778), Withering (1776) applied the Linnaean taxonomical system of classification to British plants in a seminal, two volume work, A Botanical arrangement of all the vegetables naturally growing in the British Isles. The earliest reference to a small botanical microscope of Withering’s design appeared in the first edition of this book. There, Withering indicated this microscope was developed for field dissections of flowers and other plant parts. While there is no surviving example of this exact design, close relatives of this type do exist, made either completely of brass or of ivory with brass pillars. Ivory models can be tentatively dated to 1776-1785, as by 1787 a newer model with a hollowed stage in an all-brass configuration already predominated. In turn, it was preceded by the brief appearance of a transitional brass model but with solid stage of ivory or horn (seen here). This version is extremely rare and must have been produced in very small numbers. By 1787 all these varieties were not recorded anymore in the literature.
Withering-type botanical microscope, 1780
The “Withering-type Microscope” is named for its inventor, Dr. William Withering (1741-1799), an English physician and botanist who graduated with a degree in medicine 1766 in Edinburgh. Inspired by the taxonomical work and systematic classification of Carl Linnæus (1707-1778), Withering (1776) applied the Linnaean taxonomical system of classification to British plants in a seminal, two volume work, A Botanical arrangement of all the vegetables naturally growing in the British Isles. The earliest reference to a small botanical microscope of Withering’s design appeared in the first edition of this book. There, Withering indicated this microscope was developed for field dissections of flowers and other plant parts. While there is no surviving example of this exact design, close relatives of this type do exist, made either completely of brass or of ivory with brass pillars. Ivory models can be tentatively dated to 1776-1785, as by 1787 a newer model with a hollowed stage in an all-brass configuration already predominated. In turn, it was preceded by the brief appearance of a transitional brass model but with solid stage of ivory or horn (seen here). This version is extremely rare and must have been produced in very small numbers. By 1787 all these varieties were not recorded anymore in the literature.
References: SML: A242712; Goren 2014.
References: SML: A242712; Goren 2014.
Prof. Yuval Goren's Collection of the History of the Microscope
My story
Beginnings
I was born in 1956, when the State of Israel was only 12 years old—a mere child. At the age of three, my father's job brought us to Beersheba, a small, dusty desert city with scattered neighborhoods and open spaces between them. Our family consisted of my parents and three children, and we lived in a 67-square-meter apartment. My father, who had left his job at the Ministry of Defense, found work as a junior clerk at the Dead Sea Works. My mother began working as a secretary at the Negev Research Institute. I saw my mother more often because she came home in the afternoon. To help pay the mortgage, my father took on extra jobs.
My brother, Haim, who was ten years older than I, enlisted in the army in 1963. Immediately after his discharge, he moved to Kibbutz Gonen in the Upper Galilee. I shared a six-square-meter room with my sister, Smadar, until I turned 16. When I was 12, I discovered my first Roman-period coin in an open field on my way to school. After finding several more, I began to build a small collection and decided that when I grew up, I wanted to become an archaeologist.
My mother’s work at the Negev Research Institute provided me with numerous opportunities. The institute was a young, dynamic government research organization that later evolved into the Research and Development Authority of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, which was established in 1971. My mother, who had no formal academic education and had arrived in Palestine with her family from Germany in 1936, was fluent in German, English, and Hebrew. She worked her way up to the position of spokeswoman at the institute. As a curious child, I often accompanied her to the institute’s research laboratories, where I first experienced the wonders of science through a microscope. I was enchanted and captivated by this new world, which led me to beg my parents for a microscope of my own. When I reached bar mitzvah age, and after much pleading, my parents, with generous support from my grandparents, finally bought me my first children's microscope.
By the time I was fourteen, I aspired to become an archaeologist who used a microscope. At the time, I had no idea how to combine these fields. In 1988, when I established my first lab at the Israel Antiquities Authority, I coined the term "microarchaeologist," although others quickly took credit for it. I later came to realize that this sequence of events was the first defining moment of my life. Typically, we recognize defining events only in hindsight, reflecting on them from a distance of years.
Another significant defining moment in my life arose from my personal experiences: the idea of the mobile laboratory. Growing up in a small room with my sister meant that everything had to be foldable. Each morning, I would fold my bed up against the wall to create enough space for us to play and study after school.
This routine also applied to the small laboratory I built for myself to conduct experiments with my microscope. I improvised my setup to make it work. After spending twenty years as a professor at Tel Aviv University and another ten at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, I often shared with my students this photograph of my childhood laboratory. I used this photo to illustrate the applications of mobile laboratories in archaeology, museums, and cultural heritage studies. Although I didn't invent the concept, I was among the first to adopt and refine it into a consistent methodology. However, I never disclosed to my students that the idea stemmed from the necessity of two children sharing a small space.
Olympus, Tokyo, MIC, 1970, a personal account
Toy microscopes available today are often low-quality plastic instruments with subpar optics, typically packaged in colorful cardboard and Styrofoam boxes alongside cheap botanical needles, plastic scalpels, and prepared microscope slides of inferior quality. Typically, I recommend that parents invest in a second hand student-grade microscope for children aged 12 and older, which can be purchased for around $100 on sales websites. However, in the past, there were some child microscopes that offered reasonable quality while still being appealing to kids.
Surprisingly, one of the best options comes from Olympus— a company known for its conservative approach and limited innovation in student and research-grade microscopes. The Olympus MIC, which was introduced in 1958, was marketed with only minor cosmetic updates until the early 1970s. It featured a durable aluminum alloy body, high-quality optics, and an innovative objective system inspired by the revolving objectives of the Nikon H. It also came with a well-designed, sturdy plastic carrying case. I wish they would produce similar models today.
This microscope holds personal memories for me. When I was about ten or eleven years old, I walked with my father, Zvi, along the main street of the old city of Beer Sheva, the provincial desert town where I grew up. In the window of a local optician, who later became a large holding company with many branches, I saw the MIC microscope. I begged my father to buy it for me. My father, the most generous person I’ve ever known, asked me to wait outside while he entered the shop. From the window, I could see him talking with the seller. When he came out, he told me that, as much as he wanted to buy it, we couldn't afford it. For my birthday, my parents bought me a small single-magnification microscope instead.
Zvi Goren (Gronowski), 1922-1993
When I began my studies in petrography for my MA thesis, I was looking for a compact, portable, and efficient microscope that I could equip with polarizers and use at home. Two of my friends owned MICs that they had kept since childhood, but they hadn’t used them in years. I asked them if they would sell me one, but they both apologized and refused.
Years went by, and I successfully completed my MA and PhD, working with several research-grade microscopes along the way. When I became an associate professor, my friends organized a surprise party for me at a local restaurant known for its excellent fish and seafood. One of the MIC owners, who had become a professional photographer, gifted me a framed photo of his MIC, complete with a dedication inscription. The message reminded me of that microscope and congratulated me on my accomplishments without it.
In 2014, I finally found myself purchasing a mint-condition MIC on eBay for just £11. I wished my father could see it and remember the story behind it.
Petrography Researcher
As petrography researcher in the IAA, 1992
In February 1989, I proactively arranged a meeting with retired General Amir Drori, who had been tasked transforming the Department of Antiquities and Museums, under the Ministry of Education and Culture, into the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA). During our discussion, I explained the significance petrography and micromorphology in archaeological research and emphasized necessity for the IAA to hire someone for this role within its upcoming scientific research unit. Gen. Drori, in a emotional response that I later recognized, asked, "Would you agree to take on such position?" After a brief moment of hesitation, I accepted. This marked the first official use of the title "Petrography Researcher in Archaeology" in any academic or non-academic research institution Israel. However, after leaving the IAA in 1996 to become a Senior Lecturer at Tel Aviv University, title has since become formalized within the IAA and Israeli universities.
Academic Career
I spent twenty years at Tel Aviv University, starting as a senior lecturer in 1996 and advancing to a full professor in 2005. During my tenure, I led the Department of Archaeology Ancient Near Eastern Cultures for four years and served as the chairman of the faculty's research committee, representing it on the university's research council. From 2010 to 2012, I was the Deputy Dean of the Faculty of Humanities, dedicating my efforts to developing an academic program in archaeology and archaeological materials, which gained approval the Council for Higher Education. In 2015, I was invited by the President of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev to create a study program for international research students in the Department of Archaeology, focusing on archaeological and conservation sciences. The program I established is part of a European consortium within the Marie Curie Joint Doctorate and Erasmus Mundus Master's programs, represented Israel in the COST consortium forarchaeology research and development, and signed Erasmus+ agreements with select EU academic institutions.
The GOREN Microscope
My research journey began with the petrographic microscope, which served as my primary tool during years when portable equipment for-invasive methods was unavailable in the mobile laboratories I operated at archaeological sites,, and antiquities storage. Under the guidance of Prof. Paul Goldberg, my master's and doctoral advisor and a trailblazer micromorphological research, I learned how this method could provide forensic insights into the past. I was eager to create techniques that would streamline the lengthy laboratory processes and allow for real-time data extraction during excavations or museum work. I set ambitious goals, aiming for a mobile lab that could fit in a small car, be transported in a backpack or on a trolley via commercial flights, and deliver high-quality information—including mineralogical and chemical diagnostics and detailed petrographic photographs—within just a day or two of work. The challenge remained the need for a research microscope that could facilitate all these applications while maintaining high mobility.
Policy of the Descriptions and References Appearing on this Website
Scope
In the mature stage of collecting, it is important to establish goals and boundaries. At this point, a collector shifts from being a hoarder to a curator, focusing on organizing the collection. It is also a stage where the collector learns to lets irrelevant items go. During my travels around the world, I visited many collections and met countless collectors. For example, an esteemed collector from Italy impressed me when he decided to concentrate his collection on timekeeping after years of collecting primarily all kinds of early scientific instruments. He sold most of his other items and brought this aspect to a state-of-the-art level. However, some collectors I encountered tended to purchase anything without much thought, as if they were on a binge. Therefore, at a specific stage of my collecting, I defined the boundaries of interest for this collection and promptly gave up items that did not meet these criteria to make room for those that did. This collection is limited to ca. 120 items, which represent significant milestones in the history of the microscope, from its inception to the early 20th century.
Approach
As an archaeologist with an academic background in anthropology and and over forty years of experience in the scientific research of past technologies, I have authored approximately 250 scientific publications in this field. I specialize in the scientific applications of archaeology. I firmly believe that every artifact has a rich cultural, societal, economic, and historical context. This is especially true for microscopes, which continue to be seen by the general public as symbols of scientific inquiry. They also serve as a gateway to scientific education for children and as prestigious entertainment for enthusiasts.
In the historiography of the sciences, two main approaches are evident. The first is the academic approach, which traditionally focuses on the social and cultural background of scientists while paying less attention to the technical characteristics of their instruments. The second approach, more commonly associated with museum curators and collectors, emphasizes the instruments and their manufacturers, often overlooking the users and the broader social, religious, economic, and emotional contexts surrounding them. The result of these two perspectives is a distinct body of literature that rarely intersects.
Typically, the history of scientific instruments, including microscopes, is approached in a functional and catalog-based manner. However, I have developed a different perspective that examines the ideas surrounding microscopes and their users, rather than focusing solely on the instruments themselves. I view the microscope as a three-dimensional embodiment of its social and economic context, and many of my descriptions reflect this viewpoint.
I want to emphasize that engineers should avoid writing history, just as historians should not engage in engineering. This website will serve as a platform for ongoing updates and discussions on this dynamic topic.
Taxonomy
Traditionally, prototypes have been named after personal names, mainly due to the Anglocentric nature of earlier literature. However, this trend is often unnecessary and historically inaccurate. While it is appropriate to name a type after its historically recorded inventor, such as the Cuff microscope, this is rarely the case with 18th-century microscopes. Neither James Willson nor Nicolaas Hartsoeker were the inventors of the single screw-barrel microscope, Edmund Culpeper was not the first inventor of the double tripod microscope, and John Ellis had no priority with the idea of an aquatic microscope. Cary and Gould also only mterialized an existing design for their toy microscope. Therefore, it is best to avoid using human names to describe these prototypes unless there is a justifiable reason to do so.
Copyright
All the items showcased on this website are exclusively from this collection and are accompanied by my original photographs. Therefore, they are subject to copyright. Any other graphic materials that have been used are in the public domain. Non-commercial use of protos in academic publications, books, museum catalogues and other websites is normally granted free of charge after contact through the form below. In case there are any similar items in other collections, a URL link has been provided for cross-referencing purposes.