tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73895844095774068422024-03-09T18:47:55.954-08:00Natural History, Creation and Religious ConflictsRogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.comBlogger298125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-71434649370625578922023-10-12T06:05:00.001-07:002023-10-12T11:59:05.803-07:00I won’t be around in 2050<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kgnEIWaAoEIJdn3d7qGCxKKt15rLHIp1yh3P8IPNqajb2aaqz7ijc9C7W1UdRvJCJJLmpNvwaYND1jn_Cbaq0tkiKA40u9npl85e7tjl9-ofpT6EU04yQ3fLKXvPk3xEppx_I-iT9o8UQqoG9JhRVIkf7-INjH5GXMuqB7ydDfc0nYqPLPz0ZswC/s1717/McGuire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1717" data-original-width="1401" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kgnEIWaAoEIJdn3d7qGCxKKt15rLHIp1yh3P8IPNqajb2aaqz7ijc9C7W1UdRvJCJJLmpNvwaYND1jn_Cbaq0tkiKA40u9npl85e7tjl9-ofpT6EU04yQ3fLKXvPk3xEppx_I-iT9o8UQqoG9JhRVIkf7-INjH5GXMuqB7ydDfc0nYqPLPz0ZswC/w340-h416/McGuire.jpg" width="340" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">Professor Bill McGuire of UCL is the go-to expert for
discussion of volcanoes and earthquakes and the likelihood of their adverse
effects. However, he has wider interests and has published a book entitled <i>Hothouse
Earth: An Inhabitant’s Guide</i> (that I have not read) that formed the basis
of an article by Eleanor Peake that appeared in the <b>i</b> newspaper (see
above). Several sections of the article are worth quoting: </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In 27 years, society as we know it
will have collapsed. Food will be extremely limited. Lawlessness will have
taken over the land. Gangs will roam the countryside scavenging for resources
like food, water and fuel. This breakdown won’t be sudden. It will happen over
a period of months. It might even have already begun.. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">..[McGuire} is expecting, and
preparing for, widespread riots by 2050. The riots will begin, he says, as they
have throughout history, when we run out of food.. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">..“If we are going to see the
collapse of society and the economy, then it’s going to be unbelievably hard
for everyone, it’s going to be a Wild West,” he says. “If society collapses,
there will be nobody to keep on top of the water supply, nobody to stop gangs
roaming the countryside.”.. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">..”If we are to have any chance of
survival, we need to co-operate; I think that’s absolutely critical.” </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That is a very bleak view, but one that is believable - so,
how do we achieve co-operation? No-one wants the catastrophe of 2050 predicted
by McGuire, and the solution lies with us turning our backs on the comfort,
complacency and economic growth that we favour in the developed countries and that
is an increasing feature of some developing economies. How can this be
achieved? </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the Gettysburg address of 1863, Lincoln lauded “government
of the people, by the people, for the people” <span style="background: #F9F9F9; color: #202122;">and this strikes me as being a good basis for organising
our societies. Top-down democracies now appear to be based on gaining votes
among the electorate rather than focussing on governance, especially where that
needs to be long-term. Unfortunately, the challenges facing us, the ones that
McGuire is highlighting, are based on much longer periods of time than the
duration of elected parliaments. Solutions also require changes in the way that
most international economies function, with the power of “markets” dictating
everything. Add to this our seeming desire for a steadily increasing standard
of living and one can see why we have the current approaches of politicians,
based on what Greta Thunberg so admirably describes as “blah, blah, blah”. Of
course, in common with many other voters (almost all?), I am a hypocrite in realising
that global climate change provides severe challenges down the line, yet my
lifestyle is based on the comfort and complacency I mentioned earlier. However,
I would like to change the system to be more like Lincoln’s ideal, as this
would be helpful in the long term - but how is this to be achieved? Firstly,
one has to overcome top-down approaches and how is that to be done when we have
a well-established political class, political parties, and a complex media
network to propagate their views. A first move towards democracy would be
achieved by having the choice “none of the above” on ballot papers, as we do in
many surveys. Imagine!</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #202122;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background: #F9F9F9; color: #202122;">Another
fundamental in looking at the future, and this is one that McGuire alludes to,
is our need to understand that humans are part of a much wider living system
and that we are as dependent on all the parts of the living planet as we are on
each other. We haven’t moved from the Biblical standpoint that the environment
is ours to exploit and there are many who feel that the negative consequences
of our exploitation will be reduced by the implementation scientific
discoveries, both now and in the future. Good for the optimists that have that
view, but it does point again to an attitude that we are able to control
matters and we clearly cannot.</span><span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #202122;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background: #F9F9F9; color: #202122;">If we were
less anthropocentric, and had more respect for the wonders of the natural
world, we could shape new ways of integrative thinking. Coupled with a
bottom-up approach to democracy, we could transform the future for all citizens,
but will it be allowed to happen by those currently holding political and
economic power? No. That’s a sad fact, but those who do respect natural history
(and, incidentally, those who believe that good manners and mutual respect are
among the highest human achievements) are among our most valued citizens. If
their approaches spread, we may get closer to a real democratic system like
that admired by Lincoln who wished that </span>“<span style="background: #F9F9F9; color: #202122;">government of the people, by the people, for the people”
should not “perish from the earth”. Well it has done, hasn’t it?</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-89893960173184378282023-08-28T06:05:00.002-07:002023-09-08T04:35:56.785-07:00Dr Dryasdust, Sir Walter Scott and Philip Henry Gosse <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimU5RfvCyLT1L3NWCoG-YIV7XNLaRSh_U01hlqIY2Avl9nrRo26F6zrFnU3TDsZzCSshb30ZU0SQiTTXE8ifHqDW9uuAJztVdwvhS_GCL1WF0ISz2xoq2Zidoa4qQnBodKbS_YYQX_xt9Q7uE9aw3P72dglx7BR07PknkEg-ERMbfm1HV9iotr2RBa/s1227/Walter%20Scott.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="892" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimU5RfvCyLT1L3NWCoG-YIV7XNLaRSh_U01hlqIY2Avl9nrRo26F6zrFnU3TDsZzCSshb30ZU0SQiTTXE8ifHqDW9uuAJztVdwvhS_GCL1WF0ISz2xoq2Zidoa4qQnBodKbS_YYQX_xt9Q7uE9aw3P72dglx7BR07PknkEg-ERMbfm1HV9iotr2RBa/w281-h387/Walter%20Scott.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">Writers of historical novels face the challenge of maintaining
accuracy when describing events, while introducing narrative that is a product
of their imagination. Sir Walter Scott (above, in a portrait by Sir Henry Raeburn) met this head-on and addressed
it in an Introductory Epistle to <i>Ivanhoe</i> where, writing to the imaginary
Rev Dr Dryasdust in the person of Laurence Templeton, he has this to
say [1]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">The painter must introduce no ornament inconsistent with
the climate or country of his landscape; he must not plant cypress trees upon
Inch-Merrin, or Scottish firs among the ruins of Persepolis; and the author
lies under a corresponding restraint. However far he may venture in a more full
detail of passions and feelings, than is to be found in the ancient
compositions which he imitates, he must introduce nothing inconsistent with the
manners of the age; his knights, squires, grooms, and yeomen, may be more fully
drawn than in the hard, dry delineations of an ancient illuminated manuscript,
but the character and costume of the age must remain inviolate; they must be
the same figures, drawn by a better pencil, or, to speak more modestly,
executed in an age when the principles of art were better understood. His
language must not be exclusively obsolete and unintelligible; but he should
admit, if possible, no word or turn of phraseology betraying an origin directly
modern. It is one thing to make use of the language and sentiments which are
common to ourselves and our forefathers, and it is another to invest them with
the sentiments and dialect exclusively proper to their descendants.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">I am conscious that I shall be found still more faulty in
the tone of keeping and costume, by those who may be disposed rigidly to
examine my Tale, with reference to the manners of the exact period in which my
actors flourished: It may be, that I have introduced little which can
positively be termed modern; but, on the other hand, it is extremely probable
that I may have confused the manners of two or three centuries, and introduced,
during the reign of Richard the First, circumstances appropriated to a period
either considerably earlier, or a good deal later than that era. It is my
comfort, that errors of this kind will escape the general class of readers.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">In the Epistle,
he attacks </span>“<span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">the repulsive
dryness of mere antiquity”, but also states the importance of making history
interesting to a wide readership, while maintaining much detail accuracy. Writers of historical novels are likely to face
criticisms from academic historians who have a knowledge of detail that is
“dry” (thus Dr Dryasdust) and, even if these historians imagine the behaviour of
key characters, they do not promote it with dialogue or other supposed
interactions.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGw-2WGO-z0gKMbsO1H0wMmpRgRbB4VrKWUe--wGBbTRTUWQzgHz8Z2YLjVsk9BWJAb82GYLD7Mim-Z8a_L5O94w9QYSXqTyJHwn24ctzldDEKYopurzUwa9w_eP0BVxbgjtd1dhWW-oES1hFiRNaJUoBpQnnfg0VEZ-XIyPv8LsqlxUEr0-6FF73U/s315/PHG.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="201" height="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGw-2WGO-z0gKMbsO1H0wMmpRgRbB4VrKWUe--wGBbTRTUWQzgHz8Z2YLjVsk9BWJAb82GYLD7Mim-Z8a_L5O94w9QYSXqTyJHwn24ctzldDEKYopurzUwa9w_eP0BVxbgjtd1dhWW-oES1hFiRNaJUoBpQnnfg0VEZ-XIyPv8LsqlxUEr0-6FF73U/w264-h413/PHG.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">It is
interesting that the renowned natural historian Philip Henry Gosse (above) also
used a Dr Dryasdust in the Preface to “<i>The Romance of Natural History</i>”, writing [2]:</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">There are more ways than one of studying natural history.
There is Dr Dryasdust’s way; which consists of mere accuracy of definition and
differentiation; statistics as harsh and dry as the skins and bones in the
museum where it is studied. There is the field-observer’s way; the careful and
conscientious accumulation and record of facts bearing on the life-history of
the creatures; statistics as fresh and bright as the forest or meadow where
they are gathered in the dewy morning. And there is the poet’s way; which looks
at nature through a glass peculiarly his own; the aesthetic aspect, which
deals, not with statistics, but with the emotions of the human mind,- surprise,
wonder, terror, revulsion, admiration, love, desire, and so forth,- which are
made energetic by the contemplation of the creatures around him.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">Gosse was very
much a natural historian of the second category, while <i>The Romance of
Natural History</i> set out to describe his attitude to the third, for he
certainly had a poet’s approach in some of his writing. So, where did Gosse get
the name Dr Dryasdust? The scientist working with skins and bones bears a close
resemblance to an academic historian looking at texts and contemporary material
in a library. So, did Gosse base his Dr Dryasdust on the one in the Introductory
Epistle to <i>Ivanhoe</i>? We know that Gosse was an avid reader when he lived
in Carbonear in Newfoundland as a teenager and Ann Thwaite records [3]:</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">..on his very first Sunday in Carbonear, he was so ‘eagerly
devouring’ <i>The Fortunes of Nigel</i> that he ‘did not go to meeting’. It was
the first time that he had read Scott and it was Mr Elson [his employer, who
was also the librarian of the Carbonear Book Society].. ..who had pulled it
down from the shelf, recommending the novel to him.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">That Henry
Gosse had read <i>Ivanhoe</i> is clear, as he quotes from that novel in <i>Omphalos</i>,
his disastrous attempt to explain the potential conflict between the Biblical
account of creation and ideas on geological time scales [3,4]. <i>Omphalos</i> was
published in 1857 and it is likely that Henry had been familiar with Scott’s novel for thirty years.</span><span style="background-color: #fefefe;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">The evidence is
thus strong that Henry Gosse based his Dr Dryasdust on the fictional character addressed
by Scott. Both authors wanted to popularise their subject and both were likely
to be faced with opposition from academic, “pure” circles. It’s a potential
conflict that exists today, perhaps even more so. We’ve all seen docudramas and
other media that make our blood boil with their use of imagination over fact
and it’s unfortunate that sometimes the audience is not aware of the
difference. Both Walter Scott and Henry Gosse certainly were.</span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: black;">[1] </span><a href="http://www.telelib.com/authors/S/ScottWalter/prose/ivanhoe/ivanhoe000a.html"><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254);">http://www.telelib.com/authors/S/ScottWalter/prose/ivanhoe/ivanhoe000a.html</span></a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] Philip Henry Gosse (1860) <i>The Romance of Natural History</i>.
London, J. Nisbet and Co. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] Ann Thwaite (2002) <i>Glimpses of the Wonderful: The
Life of Philip Henry Gosse 1810-1888</i>. London, Faber and Faber. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] Roger S. Wotton (2021) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-60729876014826595472023-07-12T06:49:00.000-07:002023-07-12T06:49:51.189-07:00Hedgerows, Constable and Hockney <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;"></p><p class="MsoNormal">Devonshire has 53,000 km of hedges and: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #212121;">the county has about one fifth of all the species-rich hedges
in England. Together they are of international importance, as an historical,
cultural, wildlife and landscape resource [1].</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #212121;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVptHZM4vFSGUADgZcWwRj_fs3nkMvq77zuNwiZyDnrvxEiiDj6tYEJEU_d87X3dQmEYLsp1OPEveT6U9ZE3yq5l7LWR8Mwg1fAmmv-EOmqm0qfEF8PmhLypzk5NC1NN_cT4w5cIz-CeV9Fn_faUxanVuyyqeObcoZ8V8c2B_30InviVmRftmHEcjG/s1024/Devon%20Hedges%20by%20Robert%20Wotton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="1024" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVptHZM4vFSGUADgZcWwRj_fs3nkMvq77zuNwiZyDnrvxEiiDj6tYEJEU_d87X3dQmEYLsp1OPEveT6U9ZE3yq5l7LWR8Mwg1fAmmv-EOmqm0qfEF8PmhLypzk5NC1NN_cT4w5cIz-CeV9Fn_faUxanVuyyqeObcoZ8V8c2B_30InviVmRftmHEcjG/w506-h139/Devon%20Hedges%20by%20Robert%20Wotton.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><span style="background: white; color: #212121;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">A typical scene
of hedges in Devonshire is shown in the image above, taken by my namesake
Robert Wotton [2], but a hedge is not just a hedge – they have a wide variety
of structures and full descriptions can be found in the web pages of Devon
County Council [3] and the Devon Hedge Group [2]:</span> </p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Across the county there are great
variations in the structure of hedges and in the trees and shrubs which grow on
them, reflecting location, origin, age and management. Tall beech hedges are
characteristic of Exmoor and high ground in the Blackdown Hills; stone faced
banks distinguish Dartmoor hedges and those of the Atlantic coast; willow is
common on the wet clay soils of the Culm Measures between the moors; dogwood,
spindle and wayfaring tree grow in hedges on limestone outcrops along the
Channel coast; elm characterises the Redlands on either side of the River Exe;
massive banks line mile after mile of sunken lanes in the South Hams; and
wind-sculpted trees with gorse are distinctive of hedges of exposed coasts and
uplands. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQSkoFHif--6JQ_X4Y46U_8kKDVVIwahj7VCXg40rCMWMF992ojFW3l1Nnf7HbJlojZU4pLqEwiGBj10Xe1ornfrQp1a4itnYiTHZZaXz0m47QRsWhiS60SvKkuvjVUR11FDHC4kpZKdU5M7C1Bw31wbVDb1edhZYpeBUxmm1rjXWM3la9fpPj11_/s620/Devon%20Hedges%20from%20South%20Devon%20AONB%20web%20site.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="620" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQSkoFHif--6JQ_X4Y46U_8kKDVVIwahj7VCXg40rCMWMF992ojFW3l1Nnf7HbJlojZU4pLqEwiGBj10Xe1ornfrQp1a4itnYiTHZZaXz0m47QRsWhiS60SvKkuvjVUR11FDHC4kpZKdU5M7C1Bw31wbVDb1edhZYpeBUxmm1rjXWM3la9fpPj11_/w449-h250/Devon%20Hedges%20from%20South%20Devon%20AONB%20web%20site.jpg" width="449" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">I spent my childhood in South Devon and spent hours walking
through country lanes, and along the coast. Tall hedges and hills were very
familiar parts of these “rambles” and the closed-in landscape always gave me a
sense of security, even when the occasional sheep dog made a determined effort
to round me up. Hedgerows, most often those alongside country lanes and paths (like
those in the image above from the South Devon AONB web site), were the main
source of my pressed flower collection. This is what I wrote about it in <i>Walking
with Gosse</i> [4]: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">Anything
connected with Nature was a hit with me and I was presented with a chance to
show my ability as a naturalist during my final year at Primary School, when
Miss Bedford, our class teacher, asked us to produce a pressed flower
collection.. ..I soon became absorbed by the task and collected plants on
solitary walks through local lanes and woods. After returning home from each
foray, plants were identified with the help of books and then each was arranged
between sheets of tissue paper that, in turn, were layered between heavy encyclopaedias.
After pressing and drying, each flower was placed into a book with blue paper
pages and held using thin strips of sticky paper, with the common name of each
plant written alongside using white crayon. In a childlike way it was quite
artistic (I knew nothing of Wedgwood jasperware pottery at this time, but you
can imagine how the collection looked). </p><p class="MsoNormal">Such an activity would likely be
frowned upon today, but I loved it, although I didn’t go beyond thinking about
the habits of each plant and how common it was – like all children, I enjoyed
finding a rarity. This changed when I was older and was introduced to Max
Hooper’s ideas on dating hedges, first promoted (interestingly enough) in the Devon
Naturalists Trust Journal [5]. From studies on a large number of hedges, he
conceived “Hooper’s Hypothesis” that the age of a hedge (in years) = the number
of woody plant species in a 30-yard section x 110 [6]. Armed with this
information, natural historians could date their local hedges, although Hooper
stressed that it was a general rule and didn’t work for hedges that had their
origins more than a thousand years ago. It was also recognised that this “rule
of thumb” should be used in conjunction with local historical records. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I had the pleasure of listening to
Max Hooper talk about hedgerows when I was a postgraduate student in the
Department of Zoology at the University of Durham. As a natural historian at
heart, I enjoyed hearing about his ideas and also the enthusiastic way in which
he delivered them. So many of our seminars were given by eminent scientists
whose work seemed far away from nature and the environment, something that is
even more pronounced fifty years on. He convinced me that being a natural
historian was “a good thing” and that way of thinking has influenced much of my teaching. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Aside from natural history, I’m
also fascinated by art and, in the context of this essay, the way that
depictions of hedges have been used by painters. John Constable painted the
hedgerows of Suffolk as an integral part of compositions – as seen in <i>Fen
Lane, East Bergholt</i> of ca. 1817 (see below). We do not have enough detail
to date the hedges, but there is a contrast between the “wild” section and the
part adjacent to the field on the left. Here, workers are busy, while we look
down the lane that disappears round a bend, the track having come into the
picture on the lower right side and then passing through a broken gate. The
hedges emphasise this perspective and our eye passes to the floodplain of a
river and then to a village on the other side of the valley, with its church on
the right. Toiling workers, waterways, and churches all feature in many works
by Constable and reflect his attitudes, beliefs and approach to Nature. He was
conscious of being the son of a wealthy mill owner, was Christian, and knew how
to depict landscapes that have been altered by human activity.<i> </i>The
composition of <i>Fen Lane, East Bergholt</i> is satisfying and the hedges,
together with the lane, draw us in, just as they would do if we encountered
this scene in real life. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnrq86qFXnS2eJiSr9JmJfQU0dLnYvi5m2zcjZQOqQ2bXaGkztrI8g_s_4Q7SGT__o0GHUo1MAJhnXXQKY8Tc9s6yRQOUM_3RefmTY4PtEOUkoweQMF8rXTgzzdDGrMpf9Ispgh71V4870NxBXFYFxnoIf8yAtprQpz88mkTbv2dvR3RnAPWPNiN-/s1200/Constable%20Fen%20Lane,%20East%20Bergholt%20ca1817%20Tate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1200" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnrq86qFXnS2eJiSr9JmJfQU0dLnYvi5m2zcjZQOqQ2bXaGkztrI8g_s_4Q7SGT__o0GHUo1MAJhnXXQKY8Tc9s6yRQOUM_3RefmTY4PtEOUkoweQMF8rXTgzzdDGrMpf9Ispgh71V4870NxBXFYFxnoIf8yAtprQpz88mkTbv2dvR3RnAPWPNiN-/w448-h337/Constable%20Fen%20Lane,%20East%20Bergholt%20ca1817%20Tate.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Hedges were planted to mark out
fields that either had different ownership, or different types of planting or
grazing. They thus provide barriers and many English artists have used hedges
to emphasise depth, or to partition a landscape into areas of different colour
or texture. Of course, this is not just a feature of works by English painters,
but I am confining myself to these in this essay. Among contemporary English artists,
hedges feature in the recent work of David Hockney and I surmise that his
feeling for East Yorkshire is similar to mine for South Devon: there is a sense
of nostalgia in his work. In two examples, based on iPad drawings (see below),
we observe winding roads with hedges in Spring, but we don’t have enough
information to date any of the hedges “painted”. In both, we are reminded of
the track shown in Constable’s painting of Fen Lane, yet we have no distant
view, so we don’t know our destination. In an earlier watercolour (also shown below), Hockney demonstrates the role played by gaps in hedgerows, allowing us to see
distant vistas (and further hedges). They invite us to look beyond limited
confines. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshnWwEjxZI0oSTvI05rUm_l0YtyPHEB6F2zzjckrjpXY6MJXA2ZeoQFvJfjCJSpt5kDDVSgEldHpjTg5Ld4VFEsgOebWVJWOhv5w8UMNcPRRuy2nEmgbyQ4RUw8kuchguAqTmFHTI9YX2mosJTuv1jTjKL3SD5a2JY3OF1xjICl6tB-9VYh3Dfbix/s1200/Hockney%20The%20arrival%20of%20spring%20in%20Woldgate,%20East%20Yorkshire%20in%202011%20iPad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshnWwEjxZI0oSTvI05rUm_l0YtyPHEB6F2zzjckrjpXY6MJXA2ZeoQFvJfjCJSpt5kDDVSgEldHpjTg5Ld4VFEsgOebWVJWOhv5w8UMNcPRRuy2nEmgbyQ4RUw8kuchguAqTmFHTI9YX2mosJTuv1jTjKL3SD5a2JY3OF1xjICl6tB-9VYh3Dfbix/s320/Hockney%20The%20arrival%20of%20spring%20in%20Woldgate,%20East%20Yorkshire%20in%202011%20iPad.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJCT_38wvX4nuvk2FXnP-TVVWf-FgldTX26yj284doDCU7TOu4JURjrq3al9vwsuCjNXwh1nAf0aZEOmWU03b3qlK-QoMA1rPygVm1Q5BgnhMkVrVmx1SCmE0w_kftQShcXDTw8bSmHuPQ6rjzscslStlVK0lr-LJP3jtO21aygApgZIX9NKBpfNi/s798/Hockney%20The%20arrival%20of%20spring%20in%20Woldgate,%20East%20Yorkshire%20in%202011%20iPad%20drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="598" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJCT_38wvX4nuvk2FXnP-TVVWf-FgldTX26yj284doDCU7TOu4JURjrq3al9vwsuCjNXwh1nAf0aZEOmWU03b3qlK-QoMA1rPygVm1Q5BgnhMkVrVmx1SCmE0w_kftQShcXDTw8bSmHuPQ6rjzscslStlVK0lr-LJP3jtO21aygApgZIX9NKBpfNi/s320/Hockney%20The%20arrival%20of%20spring%20in%20Woldgate,%20East%20Yorkshire%20in%202011%20iPad%20drawing.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdWnZAYZqAeAuPIgYyIM9RiMcGgblsOYx5sElJoeMo7ECtVmy95MoCwCujI1KmEfXLP3XmA4bUkCQ7IXmu1w09VY8D0Eugji-deYIdnz_GcJ7_pXQILr1TmH1KsVh6wKS_A5Ho-5yPpfkZm0N07OZ1CxCb9kOav-EisV66AeCetGYCzAECddF5ysZ/s738/Hockney%20A%20gap%20in%20the%20hedgerow%20(from%20Midsummer,%20East%20Yorkshire)%202004%20watercolour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="738" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdWnZAYZqAeAuPIgYyIM9RiMcGgblsOYx5sElJoeMo7ECtVmy95MoCwCujI1KmEfXLP3XmA4bUkCQ7IXmu1w09VY8D0Eugji-deYIdnz_GcJ7_pXQILr1TmH1KsVh6wKS_A5Ho-5yPpfkZm0N07OZ1CxCb9kOav-EisV66AeCetGYCzAECddF5ysZ/w384-h259/Hockney%20A%20gap%20in%20the%20hedgerow%20(from%20Midsummer,%20East%20Yorkshire)%202004%20watercolour.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Landscape artists encourage us to
look closely at our environment and the way that it changes over time. Hedges
are features that may last for hundreds of years, as Max Hooper has shown, and
there is much to see in these habitats if we take the rime to look, or do not
remove them for our convenience. It’s one of the reasons why collecting
blackberries, elderberries and rosehips is such a pleasurable occupation, for
the avid collector keeps an eye on hedgerows from early spring through to
harvest. It’s great to be so connected to Nature, just as one is when
rock-pooling, walking through woods and over hills, and any other activity
where the environment, and all it contains, dominates our thoughts. We all need to look outwards from time to time. </p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://devonhedges.org/devon-hedges/">https://devonhedges.org/devon-hedges/</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://devonhedges.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/1_Introduction.pdf">https://devonhedges.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/1_Introduction.pdf</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.devon.gov.uk/historicenvironment/land-management/hedges-and-the-historic-environment/">https://www.devon.gov.uk/historicenvironment/land-management/hedges-and-the-historic-environment/</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal">[4] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse</i> e-book </p><p class="MsoNormal">[5] <a href="https://naturenet.net/blogs/2007/03/21/beyond-hoopers-hypothesis-hedgerow-survey-handbook-updated/">https://naturenet.net/blogs/2007/03/21/beyond-hoopers-hypothesis-hedgerow-survey-handbook-updated/</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal">[6] <a href="https://naee.org.uk/hoopers-hedgerow-history-hypothesis/">https://naee.org.uk/hoopers-hedgerow-history-hypothesis/</a> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> <span class="MsoHyperlink"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-5888700524258369892023-05-05T01:57:00.000-07:002023-05-05T01:57:58.651-07:00Wood anemones, Edward Elgar and “Windflower”<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiDlvpP0j6cNLK_OM3kEm-Hoq7F42pkKeJkFUaCw2Tjs3lJWo8OdUotuCB2aKFREAHtVObvsFiWxtyjqxWOT3Es6kytZ-lTnODOGyMkh7-oww_yTuOfNzO9-WfboRyPpBnUd6Y0jAwclAd5VtgkYU4GyOeMTnzk3QYJJLur8Yk1TyMTQE7bsSdw/s574/Windflowers%202%20for%20blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="574" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiDlvpP0j6cNLK_OM3kEm-Hoq7F42pkKeJkFUaCw2Tjs3lJWo8OdUotuCB2aKFREAHtVObvsFiWxtyjqxWOT3Es6kytZ-lTnODOGyMkh7-oww_yTuOfNzO9-WfboRyPpBnUd6Y0jAwclAd5VtgkYU4GyOeMTnzk3QYJJLur8Yk1TyMTQE7bsSdw/w485-h285/Windflowers%202%20for%20blog.jpg" width="485" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Wood anemones (<i>Anemone nemorosa</i>) are a common feature
of mature woodlands in spring and there can be carpets of these pretty plants,
with their white flowers and palmate leaves (see above). They grow vegetatively
by means of rhizomes and cannot photosynthesise efficiently in shade [1], so the
production of leaves and flowers is therefore early in the temperate growing
season, before woodland trees come into leaf. The flowers do not produce nectar
but are pollinated mainly by insects [1] and that may be aided by the
generation of chemical attractants by the plants. As Shirreffs [1] states, the
flower “is held erect during [the] day, but closes and droops at night and in
bad weather”. This habit has given rise to folklore that the flowers provide
resting places for fairies at night [2,3] and their seeming intolerance of windy
conditions has resulted in their common name of windflowers, as though they
have a human-like sensitivity. It’s a behaviour that appeals to the
imagination, especially for those who enjoy walking in woods.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Edward Elgar used Nature as a source of inspiration for his
music and he knew many woods in his native Worcestershire, and elsewhere, where
wood anemones grew in large numbers. One of the most important people in his
life, Alice Stuart-Wortley (later Lady Stuart of Wortley), was named
“Windflower” by Elgar and this may have been a reflection of her beauty and
sensitivity. A daughter of the painter John Everett Millais, Alice (known as
Carrie within the family) married Charles Stuart-Wortley after the death of his
first wife, becoming the stepmother to Charles’ daughter, Bice, and the mother
of another daughter, Clare. An important bond between Charles and Alice was
their love of music and both were competent pianists and would play concertos
together in addition to their separate playing. Elgar first met Alice
Stuart-Wortley “two years before the Enigma Variations made him famous” [4].</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elgar was fortunate in having the unfailing support of his
wife Alice, but he also enjoyed the company of other women, especially when
they appreciated his music. In
describing the friendship with Alice Stuart-Wortley, Michael De-la-Noy wrote
this [4]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">..she was five years younger than
Elgar, very beautiful, and she is now generally assumed to be “the Soul”
enshrined in the Violin Concerto. Safely married, she was typical of the
assured, aristocratic and handsome type of woman Elgar was content to place on
a pedestal and worship from afar.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The reference to “the Soul” comes from an inscription in
Spanish at the head of the concerto, translated as “Here is enshrined the soul
of…”. As Michael Kennedy has written of a letter to Alice Stuart-Wortley [5]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">While composing the Violin
Concerto early in 1910 he [Elgar] wrote to her on 27 April: “I have been
working hard at the windflower themes – but all stands still until you come and
approve!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In addition to providing inspiration, Alice Stuart-Wortley
supported him when he was at his most self-pitying and despondent, and was
generous in sending him, and members of his family, gifts. Not only a musical inspiration
then, but a true friend.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3lOPtd8O38KNaOBPfnZwICszU_oKDuzNxfe0kbjYYCvcc_fBAqX78GeN0x3Wxae5NXOmoJTmOiLQo25Nwn9wf2phGIZbXuGPNb0InpQdUZ8DsTbHuvoAq3DRk67TKBca5n7y4VWJKZsVl10m34ChN4cA1z3aoV7r5tuJE69IdGonhRpke2BwMw/s740/Letters%20by%20Elgar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="740" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3lOPtd8O38KNaOBPfnZwICszU_oKDuzNxfe0kbjYYCvcc_fBAqX78GeN0x3Wxae5NXOmoJTmOiLQo25Nwn9wf2phGIZbXuGPNb0InpQdUZ8DsTbHuvoAq3DRk67TKBca5n7y4VWJKZsVl10m34ChN4cA1z3aoV7r5tuJE69IdGonhRpke2BwMw/w485-h255/Letters%20by%20Elgar.jpg" width="485" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">When reading the letters to Windflower [6], I had a sense
that I was intruding on a very private relationship and that made me
uncomfortable. Elgar was a great letter writer and we have many of them [7,8
and see above]. Perhaps the most significant recipients were A.J.Jaeger
(“Nimrod” of the Enigma Variations), who was his contact at Novello, Frank Schuster
(who owned “The Hut”, a sanctuary where Elgar often retreated), and Troyte
Griffiths who was a loyal friend from his youth [9] and who, like Windflower,
was with him to the end. In some of these letters we see another side of Elgar,
with puns and jokey light-heartedness, both characteristics of his child-like
humour.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It can be said that Edward Elgar was always child-like in
his need to be looked after and supported through his gloomy phases by Alice
Elgar, his sister “Pollie” Grafton, and a number of others. It is clear from
his comments about his daughter Carice, Windflower’s daughter Clare, and
several nieces, that he was himself fond of children and the Windflower letters
also show how much he cherished the company of dogs and their obvious devotion
to him. Elgar was a very emotional man and that, together with his skill in
orchestration, comes through in some of his music. If I’m in a melancholic mood, some pieces by Elgar reduce me to tears and that is especially so of the Violin
Concerto with its “Windflower themes”. In that way, Alice Stuart-Wortley was
not only an inspiration for Elgar, but the agent of profound feelings in
listeners over a hundred years later. I can’t look at wood anemones without thinking
of her.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Deirdre A. Shirreffs (1985) Biological Flora of the
British Isles: <i>Anemone nemorosa</i> L. <i>Journal of Ecology</i> 73:
1005-1020.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMZYTynh6Yg&ab_channel=Mr.COutdoors">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMZYTynh6Yg&ab_channel=Mr.COutdoors</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.woodlands.co.uk/blog/flora-and-fauna/wood-anemone-anemone-nemorosa/#:~:text=Folklore%20has%20it%20that%20the,it%20the%20flower%20of%20death">https://www.woodlands.co.uk/blog/flora-and-fauna/wood-anemone-anemone-nemorosa/#:~:text=Folklore%20has%20it%20that%20the,it%20the%20flower%20of%20death</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES">[4] Michael
De-la-Noy (1983) <i>Elgar: The Man</i>. </span>London, Allen Lane.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Michael Kennedy (1968) <i>Portrait of Elgar</i>. Oxford,
Oxford University Press.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] Jerrold Northrop Moore (editor) (1989) <i>Edward Elgar:
the Windflower Letters</i>. Oxford, Clarendon Press.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] Percy M. Young (editor) (1956) <i>Letters of Edward Elgar
and Other Writings</i>. London, Geoffrey Bles.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[8] Percy M. Young (editor) (1965) <i>Letters to Nimrod from
Edward Elgar</i>. London, Dennis Dobson.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[9] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2019/05/remembering-troyte-edward-elgars.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2019/05/remembering-troyte-edward-elgars.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-37174504884621210452023-04-07T04:18:00.000-07:002023-04-07T04:18:32.963-07:00Turner, Fish and Birds<p>Walter Fawkes was both an important patron and a good friend
of J M W Turner, and the artist made regular visits to Fawkes’ home, Farnley
Hall, from 1808 to 1824 [1], using it as a base for drawing tours of sites in Yorkshire.
Turner also enjoyed the shooting that was offered on the estate and there was
also the prospect of fishing, a favourite pastime that allowed him the
opportunity to make observations of water bodies and the land surrounding them.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKJu2B4BYHh3KdaOz5m5LEfMw5wOd9KUv2EUthBmu6-8K_a8FNX3LVSXvpWqDkGSKBhlEjcRMxX4CHyoiqv-u6OJXLc6ZnqVzFh0sU6Dh6P-V5YB1blGTNbOi8ICUhvrzRxKWVskOZpgYZ8wDEq3-T4yGMbtFj39AfeQKIWHQyNv3ALV7n7X-Eg/s2721/Turner's%20Birds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2721" data-original-width="2288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKJu2B4BYHh3KdaOz5m5LEfMw5wOd9KUv2EUthBmu6-8K_a8FNX3LVSXvpWqDkGSKBhlEjcRMxX4CHyoiqv-u6OJXLc6ZnqVzFh0sU6Dh6P-V5YB1blGTNbOi8ICUhvrzRxKWVskOZpgYZ8wDEq3-T4yGMbtFj39AfeQKIWHQyNv3ALV7n7X-Eg/s320/Turner's%20Birds.jpg" width="269" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Although best known as a painter of landscapes, in both
watercolour and oils, Turner was also fascinated by architecture and the
interiors of buildings, so it was natural that he made paintings in, and
around, Farnley Hall [1]. Less well known are the watercolours that he made of
fish and of birds and it is likely that all of these were made while Turner was
staying at the Hall in visits from 1820-1824. Most were used as illustrations for the Farnley Hall <i>Ornithological
Collection</i>, now owned by Leeds City Museum, and the subject of a splendid
book by David Hill [1, and see above]. A few of the bird paintings were retained
by Turner (and are part of the Turner Bequest), although the basis for his
decision is not clear.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivK7lAXpmpa-PstHb0HAhxLYuY8wRfpRGsIfu7O_yKnWkEII1XKk7w61LLMq1KNw8pd1UUnb9gX7lcSpNWrmyWsJ2PZrn1ogxUp989kz9sHVsJ13VQ7LRWRAzhgXoJKXOS78lDcZpT5OtDFcFX9yLkjOBYxubY1adc_sC63_2NE57Y-b2OpKh2pA/s425/Turner%20fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="425" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivK7lAXpmpa-PstHb0HAhxLYuY8wRfpRGsIfu7O_yKnWkEII1XKk7w61LLMq1KNw8pd1UUnb9gX7lcSpNWrmyWsJ2PZrn1ogxUp989kz9sHVsJ13VQ7LRWRAzhgXoJKXOS78lDcZpT5OtDFcFX9yLkjOBYxubY1adc_sC63_2NE57Y-b2OpKh2pA/w418-h238/Turner%20fish.jpg" width="418" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9B9_faAXJmXhBWszxRkCOPy0_l20_vyCnKF3tmUlMEPpPHRxZ3tUQtaeFwxmQziJ1n9_-mgI9-zDzbPcxicLkZzk7K6zBgJ2JLwZ4SGB_jmYJpWEiA8RwslWDI5rRamwwNJ4cR-jrajSMzmi1IvNqL4Xv0nafGRG7B2wqtwPWAwISc1XinwKzQ/s2037/Turner%20heron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1679" data-original-width="2037" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9B9_faAXJmXhBWszxRkCOPy0_l20_vyCnKF3tmUlMEPpPHRxZ3tUQtaeFwxmQziJ1n9_-mgI9-zDzbPcxicLkZzk7K6zBgJ2JLwZ4SGB_jmYJpWEiA8RwslWDI5rRamwwNJ4cR-jrajSMzmi1IvNqL4Xv0nafGRG7B2wqtwPWAwISc1XinwKzQ/w390-h322/Turner%20heron.jpg" width="390" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">In the painting of fish (above, upper) we see two tench, a
trout and a perch that reflect Turner’s interest in all types of fishing, while
a small fish is shown captured by a heron (above, lower). The detail of the
bird’s feathers show that this unlikely to have been painted from life, but from a bird that
had been shot, possibly to then be stuffed and added to a cabinet, a practice
that was very popular at the time [2]. The painting of a teal (below, upper) was
obviously from a bird that had been shot – no teal flies with its head at this angle! Painting from life presented Turner with more of a challenge, since
examination of the plumage in detail was then much more difficult [1]. An
example is that of the goldfinch (below, lower).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbSyKK7126gG6pW04-oX9DSG_GJYApglwTCFc8R-X-NYLNILWan6f39eW8dOvekgHgGO9gNj3a7T2TBeywNjuj7EystNenqMPZpoq6uPV6OAaxXJ3pboVjwSQyhSzpn0Ir72Qow_DA9ulNSgeUR6bIqucRrEsGnOAAYOvFZAK__BWxNqBMLvfHQ/s476/Turner%20dead%20teal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="476" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbSyKK7126gG6pW04-oX9DSG_GJYApglwTCFc8R-X-NYLNILWan6f39eW8dOvekgHgGO9gNj3a7T2TBeywNjuj7EystNenqMPZpoq6uPV6OAaxXJ3pboVjwSQyhSzpn0Ir72Qow_DA9ulNSgeUR6bIqucRrEsGnOAAYOvFZAK__BWxNqBMLvfHQ/w417-h249/Turner%20dead%20teal.jpg" width="417" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Eut6qlasjz90HkQtX0gvX66VO2rnJEyyiPIVe5z9Ts6tOCMSqwoULSRt_pIzBBuXS19nspIHpmRthilce8qSqdCCGOzJCpPvgfBXNaOfZYLcAH2Dn49JeoRKCCsuaSt-WMzrtErzrO7LXSFwb06bPnSZeMOVomDn3AsVMO0XEKiA7roOEXpnVA/s1885/Turner%20goldfinch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1885" data-original-width="1523" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Eut6qlasjz90HkQtX0gvX66VO2rnJEyyiPIVe5z9Ts6tOCMSqwoULSRt_pIzBBuXS19nspIHpmRthilce8qSqdCCGOzJCpPvgfBXNaOfZYLcAH2Dn49JeoRKCCsuaSt-WMzrtErzrO7LXSFwb06bPnSZeMOVomDn3AsVMO0XEKiA7roOEXpnVA/w325-h402/Turner%20goldfinch.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">These paintings show Turner’s skill as an artist, but they
are quite different in feel to the majority of his work. He was less interested
in detail, and in portraiture, than in conveying feeling through landscape,
whether terrestrial or marine, and getting to the essence of the sublime. It is
the large number of paintings that explore this theme that make him so admired,
but the animal portraits show us that, as an artist, he could “do it all”.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] David Hill (1988) <i>Turner’s Birds</i> Oxford, Phaidon
Press</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2023/03/seth-mosley-and-natural-history.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2023/03/seth-mosley-and-natural-history.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The illustrations of the fish and the teal are from the
Turner Bequest <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/research-publications/jmw-turner/1819-1829-italy-and-after-r1130131">https://www.tate.org.uk/art/research-publications/jmw-turner/1819-1829-italy-and-after-r1130131</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All other illustrations are from the Farnley Hall <i>Ornithological
Collection</i> held by Leeds City Museum</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-56537384879241062102023-03-02T04:13:00.000-08:002023-03-02T04:13:44.143-08:00Seth Mosley and Natural History<p>Jim (I never knew his second name) was the Warden of Moor
House Field Station during my time there [1] and his duties were to look after
the buildings of the Station and to assist in the running of the place. He also supported the research on grouse that was being conducted by a team of researchers using a wonderful black Labrador called Heather, that I loved. When I chatted
to Jim, it was clear that he had first-hand, and expert, knowledge of dippers (<i>Cinclus
cinclus</i>), but the only people to know about this were those that engaged
him in conversation - there were no written records (of which I was aware). It
led me to think about the wealth of information held by amateur natural historians
and how this knowledge could be made available for a wider audience in the
2020s [2].</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t know what sparked Jim’s interest in natural history,
but he was proud of being from the area of the Pennines around Moor House and I would imagine
that his observations on dippers, and much other wildlife, stemmed from his
early years. Perhaps from a parent, or a teacher, or from something that he read,
or saw in museums? Fortunately, we know about the background, and interests, of
one “working-class naturalist” – Seth Lister Mosley – from an excellent
biography by Alan Brooke, a historian and activist from the same part of Yorkshire
as Seth [3]. Unlike Jim, Seth influenced a wide audience although, until the
publication of Alan Brooke’s book, his work was not well known to contemporary
natural historians.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbr8oGyDjlmeFwbNL-Dhvj4Z2fsGAW4fc9OUtjVSu0M7XZWHjD6T3Q7Oo_6rU1qRPov0obRmQnWHoV-WYCw4t9W06xg829hfDMk9RZSyiafWhHeJ_xeMuYzrNyglac38M0PEAAS-d0gJ5sl3jJOHoTttUK4Pm1oakx1X-neX4hUjPexJf5EbBgw/s2666/Nature's%20Missionary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2666" data-original-width="1767" height="569" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbr8oGyDjlmeFwbNL-Dhvj4Z2fsGAW4fc9OUtjVSu0M7XZWHjD6T3Q7Oo_6rU1qRPov0obRmQnWHoV-WYCw4t9W06xg829hfDMk9RZSyiafWhHeJ_xeMuYzrNyglac38M0PEAAS-d0gJ5sl3jJOHoTttUK4Pm1oakx1X-neX4hUjPexJf5EbBgw/w377-h569/Nature's%20Missionary.jpg" width="377" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Nature’s Missionary</i> [4] (see above) describes how
Seth first became interested in natural history and how his interest developed
into museum curation, a newspaper column, ideas on education, and in showing
how humans need to be at one with the rest of the natural world. At first, he
supported himself and his young family by working as a painter and decorator,
but then natural history took over, as he branched out into collecting,
illustrating, curating and writing. Seth acknowledged that his interest in
plants and animals was nurtured by his father, James Mosley, who was a
convicted poacher and an expert with guns, shooting birds that were subsequently
stuffed and placed in cases [4]. He was an independent spirit and a secularist,
while Seth’s mother was also a secularist, with a good knowledge of plants.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">James made a living as a taxidermist at a time when many
people, of all social classes, delighted in having display cases of birds – and
also of butterflies and moths. It is not known whether he used Charles Waterton’s method
of preserving bird skins [5], but mention of arsenic as a curing agent in <i>Nature’s
Missionary</i>, together with the use of the term “stuffing”, suggests a more
traditional approach. Although the various museums that Seth curated contained
many cabinets of birds and insects, he was also keen to rear insects and became
expert in identifying various pest species. In time, Seth turned away from the
practice of preparing cases of exhibits and was a strong advocate of studying
wildlife in its natural habitat, making drawings and notes of what he saw, and
that practice formed the basis of a regular newspaper column that made Seth
well known, both locally and to a wider readership. “He was always pleased when
he was acknowledged by strangers or interest was expressed in his column”. [4]</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Seth organised rambles for groups to various places around
Huddersfield and he also enjoyed solitary walks. Alan Brooke [4] quotes Seth on
the importance to him of this activity: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">I never walk into the country on a
bright, sunny day, especially when I am alone and therefore have the
opportunity to think as I walk along, but I become filled with happiness that I
am anxious to get back to put my thought down on paper.. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It’s a feeling that many of us have in walking alone in the
countryside and, in this, there is a parallel between Seth and Rousseau [6], although
there is no knowing whether Seth was familiar with Rousseau’s writings about
walking in Nature or about education, another passion that occupied Seth. He
believed that we are all part of Nature and that we must recognise this – a
sentiment that is even more important today than it was then, when increasing industrialisation
was beginning to have such an adverse effect on the environment. His ideas on
conservation mirror those of Charles Waterton of the Walton Hall estate near
Wakefield, a short distance from Huddersfield [7]. As Seth said in a quote in Alan
Brooke’s book [4]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The secret of a happy life is to
find out what there is in Nature and make ourselves partners in the concern.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">His deep knowledge of the natural world was also important in Seth’s religious development, as he left the secular views of his younger days and became a Methodist, believing that all that he saw reflected God. He was not a literal creationist, but a firm supporter of evolutionary theory and he disliked “the narrow interpretation which the materialistic scientists on the one hand, and narrow minded religionists on the other put upon the Bible account, each refusing to see the question from the other’s point of view.” [4] Quite what he felt about Henry Gosse and his strict adherence to the account in Genesis [8] can be imagined, although he would surely have admired Gosse as a natural historian.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Seth’s religious and mystical views are difficult to pin
down but, in addition to conducting Christian Nature Study Mission rambles, he
preached in local churches whenever asked and he also brought religious
thinking into his newspaper column (he was warned not to bring his missionary
work into his job as a museum curator). It is difficult for those with strong
religious views to stop themselves from proselytising, but it is easy to
forgive this trait in Seth, just as one can with Henry Gosse. Even if the two natural
historians would disagree on fundamentals, there is no doubting the importance
of religious views to each and their shared wonder of the natural world that
shone through in all that they did. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I’ve no idea what Jim’s religious views were,
but that is not important to me as he loved Nature, just like Seth and Henry. We need
heroes like these.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2018/04/tempus-fugit.html"><span style="background: white; color: #33aaff;">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2018/04/tempus-fugit.html</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #666666;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/11/outsiders-and-world-of-scientific.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/11/outsiders-and-world-of-scientific.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://undergroundhistories.wordpress.com/">https://undergroundhistories.wordpress.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] Alan Brooke (2022) <i>Nature’s Missionary</i>.
Huddersfield, Huddersfield Local History Society</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2013/12/charles-waterton-taxidermy-and.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2013/12/charles-waterton-taxidermy-and.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] Jean-Jacques Rousseau (2011 [in translation by Russell
Goulbourne]) <i>Reveries of the Solitary Walker</i>. Oxford, Oxford University
Press</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] Brian Edginton (1996) <i>Charles Waterton: A Biography</i>.
Cambridge, The Lutterworth Press.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[8] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I would like to thank Alan Brooke for making me aware of
Seth Mosley and the excellent book that tells the in-depth story of a
remarkable man.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-69682700274663338382022-12-08T01:42:00.000-08:002022-12-08T01:42:33.675-08:00Robins, Christmas, and longevity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUrTfskHmC9HmQIM30elI-jPmKaRQoj88cnXoJz-zGVvcLdPyraquRbBnO4Z-oPHdzP5YAoxE7oz0WhtVP5ryc4LuhkfP75s1oTBr-sEQ9WE994Tv_T00TNX34wTVTNomd7za84nx3rarfygF7RyMAIo_xECYkxurV7dJUzqPdAa1FJXuS8zrEw/s458/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="297" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUrTfskHmC9HmQIM30elI-jPmKaRQoj88cnXoJz-zGVvcLdPyraquRbBnO4Z-oPHdzP5YAoxE7oz0WhtVP5ryc4LuhkfP75s1oTBr-sEQ9WE994Tv_T00TNX34wTVTNomd7za84nx3rarfygF7RyMAIo_xECYkxurV7dJUzqPdAa1FJXuS8zrEw/s320/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%203.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">It’s the time of year when we buy, and send, Christmas cards
and there is a wide selection to choose from. A common subject is the European
robin (<i>Erithacus rubecula</i>), that first appeared on cards in Victorian
times and which achieved popularity by association, postmen of the time wearing
red coats [1, 2]. Those of us with long memories remember the pleasure that
letters from loved ones could provide, with the postman/postwoman as the agent
of that pleasure. Their visit was sometimes keenly anticipated.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Robins have been named by UK residents as our favourite
bird. They appear to be friendly, approaching close by when we are gardening, and
we enjoy the idea that “our” robin comes back each year to maintain the
friendship. However, their interest is opportunistic, as they are looking for
food that gets turned up, rather than wishing to make contact with us, and the
friendly bird we know year on year is not always the same one. Although a robin
has been recorded to live for 11 years, most die within a “couple of years”
[3], and, for some reason, cards with images of dead robins (and other small birds)
were popular in Victorian times (see below for a well-known example).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLO3hAV4mFg8ZXzVVi69cn_QEfb13_O6w-vr86l6L3JZCHqdxlmuR60YBenxFpgIBbeFm-aAxdREGOZuMRIHZR1y-r-iAnHCDDAxvZC3jAqd4w4VS_e7-pjzz_FQ1KZ4vPadHSgYmngvRAL0MlmsgnKxGydRNh1KL3NtT3wuAJb1JqRdef1-87w/s962/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="962" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLO3hAV4mFg8ZXzVVi69cn_QEfb13_O6w-vr86l6L3JZCHqdxlmuR60YBenxFpgIBbeFm-aAxdREGOZuMRIHZR1y-r-iAnHCDDAxvZC3jAqd4w4VS_e7-pjzz_FQ1KZ4vPadHSgYmngvRAL0MlmsgnKxGydRNh1KL3NtT3wuAJb1JqRdef1-87w/w492-h331/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%201.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Robins are unusual in holding of a territory throughout the
year, with a male and female sharing a territory during the breeding season
[4]. Territories are defended by singing and, if necessary, by fighting, and
the scene shown on at least one design of Christmas card is very unlikely, as adult robins in such close proximity would certainly result in challenges that could
lead to death of a participant in a fight.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQNaIP4oBkkYfMAkqlZDVbF_HARmIZe7tDOndT63y9OJfgdcX6Uspd6_vLVX5EtY_sTa4XJVW3aUhpS9jiOU3NnJY4sA0dLQuWtxJt7VFJahP1g3A2Dk0Nd5pd4yqoJtFwOXIsSyFS5SqTNwfqeOLM58BmT_6cLavrc3BrF_v27DigjOz0pX7uA/s1500/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="1500" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQNaIP4oBkkYfMAkqlZDVbF_HARmIZe7tDOndT63y9OJfgdcX6Uspd6_vLVX5EtY_sTa4XJVW3aUhpS9jiOU3NnJY4sA0dLQuWtxJt7VFJahP1g3A2Dk0Nd5pd4yqoJtFwOXIsSyFS5SqTNwfqeOLM58BmT_6cLavrc3BrF_v27DigjOz0pX7uA/w493-h315/Robin%20Christmas%20Card%202.jpg" width="493" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The life of robins set me thinking about longevity in birds
of various species and I found two interesting papers on the subject that use
data from ringed wild bird populations. Placing rings on birds’
legs enables recorders to determine their range, and the distances that they
fly, and, understandably, there are more records for common short-lived birds than for less common long-lived birds [5]. Nevertheless, Lindstedt and Calder showed a positive
correlation between longevity and body mass of birds of a wide range of species
in North America. They further showed that, on average, captive birds lived
longer than wild birds, the latter facing greater challenges in finding food
and coping with climatic conditions. The longest-lived wild bird (recorded at
37 years) is an albatross [6], with a captive cockatoo living for 80+ years,
although the records for many large wild birds are likely to be eclipsed once
we have more ringing returns.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A further study by Sæther [7] confirmed the positive
relationship between survival rate and body mass in natural populations of
European birds, so it is no surprise that the European robin, being a small
bird, is short-lived and produces large numbers of offspring to compensate for
this mortality rate: larger birds, on the whole, are likely to produce fewer
offspring. Perhaps Victorian Christmas card designers knew more about the
mortality of robins than most of us do today?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://leedsunilibrary.wordpress.com/2021/12/15/the-changing-styles-of-christmas-cards-from-the-victorian-age-to-the-early-20th-century/">https://leedsunilibrary.wordpress.com/2021/12/15/the-changing-styles-of-christmas-cards-from-the-victorian-age-to-the-early-20th-century/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk/2019/12/why-do-we-associate-robins-with-christmas/">https://scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk/2019/12/why-do-we-associate-robins-with-christmas/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/robin/threats/">https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/robin/threats/</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <a href="https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/robin/territory/">https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/robin/territory/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Stan L. Lindstedt and William A. Calder (1976) Body size
and longevity in birds. <i>The Condor</i> 78: 91-94.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] <a href="https://web.stanford.edu/group/stanfordbirds/text/essays/How_Long.html">https://web.stanford.edu/group/stanfordbirds/text/essays/How_Long.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] Bernt-Erik Sæther (1989) Survival rates in relation to
body weight in European birds. <i>Ornis Scandinavica</i> 20: 13-21.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
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<p> </p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-75698617992499329602022-11-25T01:44:00.000-08:002022-11-25T01:44:31.158-08:00A seaside hotel with literary and natural history links<p>I left Paignton, my home town, for university in 1965 and,
more permanently, in 1968, after my father died and our house was sold. I made
few return visits to Torbay until 2008, when I was gathering information for a book on the
famous marine natural historian Philip Henry Gosse, and his son Edmund, who
lived in St Marychurch, Torquay: I needed to make visits to his old home, to
Torquay Museum, and to places along the coast where he had collected. </p><p>Since
then, nostalgia for my childhood haunts took hold and I try and make an annual
visit, although COVID-19 put paid to that for a while. It means that I have sampled
a number of hotels in Torquay: The Imperial (that was not particularly
impressive); The Livermead Cliff (that has a wonderful location as its best
feature); and the Premier Inn (that I knew from childhood as the Belgrave
Hotel, and which I now prefer, as it offers a very good standard package, being
part of a large group). Unfortunately, none compare with some of the hotels
that I have stayed in elsewhere.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During the years I spent researching the book, I stayed at the
Livermead House Hotel and enjoyed its retro style – what I have called 1950s
seaside chic – complete with Mr Rew, and his deputy, appearing in full
“white-tie and tails” evening dress. Breakfast was accompanied by a selection of Everly Brothers hits and dinner by a pianist who played various showtime hits, etc. During the times when I was there, most of my
fellow residents were from coach parties and they were given a guard of
honour by staff as they left the hotel to board their coach for the journey
home. I also remember visiting the Livermead House Hotel at the time boisterous Young
Farmers were holding their annual conference in Torquay, with some young farmers
staying with us. All these memories were triggered as I was completing a jigsaw
puzzle by Susan Holbeche, where the Livermead House Hotel is seen on the left
[1].</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8FkqhK30zsg6tdtr2XQKM_2haLbmAPY_D5Yebbgz67MsUj9JMfbHR-9ly3LzibWRZ2XWayhoFkNvwk7mAV0M17YH2PcF0Lofp3yDRP17WmwSJIffk2HBw9Lta_2O9uK_P9AGmgVTbc4ws8NDGgZdegIbJrnPc2VSZLbTdzBfDnwoQftk3mk45w/s922/Livermead%20Jigsaw%20Planet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="922" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8FkqhK30zsg6tdtr2XQKM_2haLbmAPY_D5Yebbgz67MsUj9JMfbHR-9ly3LzibWRZ2XWayhoFkNvwk7mAV0M17YH2PcF0Lofp3yDRP17WmwSJIffk2HBw9Lta_2O9uK_P9AGmgVTbc4ws8NDGgZdegIbJrnPc2VSZLbTdzBfDnwoQftk3mk45w/w455-h335/Livermead%20Jigsaw%20Planet.jpg" width="455" /></a></div><br />It wasn’t the 1950s ambience that drew me to the hotel, it
was its association with Charles Kingsley and Henry Gosse, and I have written
about their friendship [2], and the connection of the former with the original Livermead
House (a picture of which is given on the hotel website [3]). Although the
hotel bears a blue plaque to celebrate Kingsley’s stay, few people probably
know of how he came to be there and the significance of his friendship with
Henry Gosse. It’s a story worth telling.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPgB1Jj0Z1w-eKXrUUiq9Tcqmt3xBYyXXcDaWbyELeP2qXOGq6SzkYv9l0jPrkA0apl7Z_lekWfjVCp09s-N6xj5rH7WgMPG9gDEB9jwEXtM__-uJPpAA2JQRL9l-5H4MWhGZB-l36uXSlKYi452MXp0F1q9SJakArtDtoYvb5aeIA9W6Z6GrHg/s1860/Kingsley%20blue%20plaque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="1860" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPgB1Jj0Z1w-eKXrUUiq9Tcqmt3xBYyXXcDaWbyELeP2qXOGq6SzkYv9l0jPrkA0apl7Z_lekWfjVCp09s-N6xj5rH7WgMPG9gDEB9jwEXtM__-uJPpAA2JQRL9l-5H4MWhGZB-l36uXSlKYi452MXp0F1q9SJakArtDtoYvb5aeIA9W6Z6GrHg/s320/Kingsley%20blue%20plaque.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://www.jigsawplanet.com/?rc=play&pid=28acb15f861b">https://www.jigsawplanet.com/?rc=play&pid=28acb15f861b</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/05/charles-kingsley-creation-and-evolution.html">http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/05/charles-kingsley-creation-and-evolution.html</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.livermead.com/torbay-hotel/about-us">https://www.livermead.com/torbay-hotel/about-us</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-10921606055028317082022-11-18T04:08:00.000-08:002022-11-18T04:09:01.586-08:00Six essays on angels<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1D8zcQt-rbv7HFGSC-KpoNBIZViLuX5u4Y4KxafMGVQ8LUBpZGItefRGYZEyX1n0OkiaTm71x1-cgim2ObHepDdZq5xrszfG9PAO1WzERZwkW2sr2_kWh21Z7dBxOFcpkyy_Uqe106ZGCXR3I-rphWrtQivh5tzFmPSIsR2JIgCC_7RwI0AsWw/s710/Guercino%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="710" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1D8zcQt-rbv7HFGSC-KpoNBIZViLuX5u4Y4KxafMGVQ8LUBpZGItefRGYZEyX1n0OkiaTm71x1-cgim2ObHepDdZq5xrszfG9PAO1WzERZwkW2sr2_kWh21Z7dBxOFcpkyy_Uqe106ZGCXR3I-rphWrtQivh5tzFmPSIsR2JIgCC_7RwI0AsWw/w527-h430/Guercino%202.jpg" width="527" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">I have given a number of talks about angels (and putti,
fairies and dragons) - all the result of an article I published in the journal <i>Opticon26</i>
[it can be accessed here: <a href="https://www.readcube.com/articles/10.5334%2Fopt.070906">https://www.readcube.com/articles/10.5334%2Fopt.070906</a>].
That piece was picked up by the international Press and this is one example of
the stories that resulted: <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/christmas/6860351/Angels-cant-fly-scientist-says.html">https://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/christmas/6860351/Angels-cant-fly-scientist-says.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Having written several subsequent essays on angels, I thought
it might be of interest if I grouped their links into one place, so here they
are, in chronological order:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Giotto, Angels, and Heaven <a href="http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2015/02/giotto-angels-and-heaven.html">http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2015/02/giotto-angels-and-heaven.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Do souls have wings? <a href="http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2015/10/do-souls-have-wings.html">http://www.rwotton.blogspot.com/2015/10/do-souls-have-wings.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Angels, Nike, Superman and Darth Vader <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/05/angels-nike-superman-and-darth-vader.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/05/angels-nike-superman-and-darth-vader.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Angels, Billy Graham and me <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/04/angels-billy-graham-and-me.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/04/angels-billy-graham-and-me.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why are there no bearded angels? <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/03/why-are-there-no-bearded-angels.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/03/why-are-there-no-bearded-angels.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Angels, dinosaurs and artists’ impressions <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2022/11/angels-dinosaurs-and-artists-impressions.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2022/11/angels-dinosaurs-and-artists-impressions.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-32472385416391238062022-11-02T03:21:00.008-07:002022-11-02T22:46:49.917-07:00Angels, dinosaurs and artists’ impressions<p class="MsoNormal">We have long used optical telescopes to view distant
objects, both living and non-living, making them easier to identify.
More recently, technology has provided us with telescopes
that record information transmitted over vast distances, allowing us to see distant stars, and even to look back in time as we view the expanding
universe.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Similarly, optical microscopes reveal much more than we
can see with the naked eye, and electron microscopes, of both scanning and
transmission types, make very minute structures visible, although preparation
methods require that care must be taken in interpreting what we see. Advances
have also been made in the analysis of living and non-living materials that
enable us to look at traces of organic chemicals from small samples and, using these
approaches, we can analyse the composition of fragments and
relate these to their origins. The commonplace use of an individual’s DNA in a blood stain is just one example.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Even armed with this information, we need expert analysis of
what we see to make sense of it and this is aided by visual imagery, either
generated by computer technologies, or by the hand of an artist. Artists’
impressions are invaluable in re-creating images of things that are no longer
present and which we therefore have no chance of seeing. An example comes in
the very numerous portrayals of religious scenes, where we are frequently shown
images of Jesus, although we have no record of how He looked. The same goes for
God, the disciples and all the other characters, as well as Heaven and Hell.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocfrIDtwBpwnsKROBc859foLOPxfy2yLkPw5Nu1PrnHrLiBUWzdHS9BCIkZ8OC66lKfFpoQJdLIJvZpVNJLRFiUoYkIwOLQKF0oDcTmdBqH7Fcs3kcrX2dFuDbj0y57IIUjS_6ov2Tw2dm664vCcNIkl4TfZ17CrY2UgrGU8G6Lzryw8xvVGPgA/s502/angels%20-%20tiepolo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="387" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocfrIDtwBpwnsKROBc859foLOPxfy2yLkPw5Nu1PrnHrLiBUWzdHS9BCIkZ8OC66lKfFpoQJdLIJvZpVNJLRFiUoYkIwOLQKF0oDcTmdBqH7Fcs3kcrX2dFuDbj0y57IIUjS_6ov2Tw2dm664vCcNIkl4TfZ17CrY2UgrGU8G6Lzryw8xvVGPgA/w306-h396/angels%20-%20tiepolo.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Other beings in religious paintings are given a physical
presence that is unlikely or symbolic. The Holy Spirit is frequently depicted as
a white dove, while angels have a characteristic appearance that we all
recognise [1], with bird wings on a human body that also has arms (an example by Tiepolo is shown above). Taken as being real, these angels would
not be able to fly, as the wings of birds have developed from the fore limbs of
their reptile ancestors. With arms already present, the wings of angels, and
the muscles to operate them, must be located quite differently on the body (I’m
not suggesting here that angels do not exist, but that their physical form in
paintings and sculpture means that they cannot fly using their wings). It’s an
example of where artists’ impressions are very useful in creating images that subsequently have "reality".</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Another world that fascinates us, and of which we have no
direct knowledge, is that of dinosaurs. We’ve never seen a dinosaur (although
there are some modern-day reptiles, like crocodiles, that give us some clues as
to behaviour), so how do we know what they looked like and how they lived? We
have evidence from which to work, unlike the images created of angels,
where there is no fossil evidence. Bones, skin, muscle attachments, and feathers
(where present) allow us to reconstruct dinosaurs and then put them into an
imaginary landscape. We accept these images, and models based on them, because
we believe what experts tell us (quite rightly?). The images are also
informed by speculation. In Benton’s book on dinosaurs, with its catchy
sub-title [2], we read that the discovery of pigment cells meant that “for the
very first time, we knew the colour patterns of a dinosaur, and could use these
insights to speculate about dinosaurian behaviour”. Can we really gain
information about dinosaur behaviour from colour patterns? Perhaps we can.
Later in the book, Benton describes the swimming of <i>Stenopterygius</i>, an
ancient reptile from the Mesozoic: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><i>Stenopterygius</i> swoops after
a belemnite, an extinct relative of modern squid and octopus. The belemnite has
a fleshy body and fins and swims backwards, just as modern cephalopods do. We
know, too, that it has an ink sac, and so, like its modern relatives, likely
squirts ink when alarmed, and zips off by blasting jets of water through its
siphons. By the time the predator has recovered and snapped a few times at the
ink cloud, the belemnite has long disappeared to safety. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">The <i>Stenopterygius</i> is not
too fazed, as this is not an infrequent occurrence, and he lines up to chase
another group of belemnites. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Is the language a little flowery here? Admittedly, the book
was written for a general audience, and books about dinosaurs sell well, but
how critically do we, as members of the public, consider what is said by
popularisers?<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IQlp-uv2dlqGoyu8YcnYp0bABvSON3UUdHePSDE8Kf_EDVIHs0_-P7uweAuY5eOvKPiDSsnFCMYo26Tb9o9090Iw8ioOW9Jw2BQkZqLDucBgwgntxrYQYkEpsjMA7dLOHgjp2TEKcH7MlIdU3D1fsMzlUrPvzMnZNJPt3x4ZM1f0GWjdGVT5sA/s2924/Benton%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2924" data-original-width="2167" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IQlp-uv2dlqGoyu8YcnYp0bABvSON3UUdHePSDE8Kf_EDVIHs0_-P7uweAuY5eOvKPiDSsnFCMYo26Tb9o9090Iw8ioOW9Jw2BQkZqLDucBgwgntxrYQYkEpsjMA7dLOHgjp2TEKcH7MlIdU3D1fsMzlUrPvzMnZNJPt3x4ZM1f0GWjdGVT5sA/w317-h428/Benton%201.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Further in Benton’s book [2], the dust cover of which shows <i>Tupandactylus</i>
in flight (see above), we read this about head crests in bird-like dinosaurs: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">[It is] suggested that such
prominent head crests and beaks sheathed in keratin as are seen in various
dinosaurs and pterosaurs might have been photoluminescent.. ..[and] we can imagine
the elaborate head crests of <i>Tupandactylus</i> flashing different colours at
dusk, males and females perhaps showing different patterns, and putting on a
spectacular in the crepuscular gloom. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Please note the use of the words “suggested”, “imagine” and
“perhaps” in this quote. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Moving images take artists’ impressions one step further and
we are entertained not only by coloured images of landscapes, but also grunts
and hisses from different dinosaurs. There is a good selection in the video
linked in [3], (complete with an accompanying musical soundtrack to add tension
to each scene). How much of this is supported by evidence? I accept that teeth
marks on bones correspond to the dentition of certain dinosaurs, but the rest
of it?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZdsWZFec74dFFAjM1XHWd5xQvjxsE8jc7EVJ82EELPtEpw6Q4dygF_TGi1_pXPsjPfCdOmvSJPSzG0VYyg5o3tHKS9dNnc6BSpiNyoHlSKdebrMaxw_LJB1N6oOy0nMy__NsA5QnTFDtgXYYFYd30B8XYkgJmhNz7-mC9SZEnaS6cxKyoIMY6g/s2874/Benton%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2874" data-original-width="2159" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAZdsWZFec74dFFAjM1XHWd5xQvjxsE8jc7EVJ82EELPtEpw6Q4dygF_TGi1_pXPsjPfCdOmvSJPSzG0VYyg5o3tHKS9dNnc6BSpiNyoHlSKdebrMaxw_LJB1N6oOy0nMy__NsA5QnTFDtgXYYFYd30B8XYkgJmhNz7-mC9SZEnaS6cxKyoIMY6g/s320/Benton%202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLLxaI5l9FLxBcZJj0C2dQobMVbtgdUl3ANWBZu9D2SdWe5N7ufdWbHYC6OMvW-mPZqOh1TEU__tpmWrNo460BPOs5Z9pzVv1UEl0ucXVioADopIStzl9t0Ubk0hFLt1EA58EpzFTFFUaapposCVKINsqkJmIlSzSjtcUoSfoSsfdUuhDpv2tKA/s1463/Benton%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="1463" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLLxaI5l9FLxBcZJj0C2dQobMVbtgdUl3ANWBZu9D2SdWe5N7ufdWbHYC6OMvW-mPZqOh1TEU__tpmWrNo460BPOs5Z9pzVv1UEl0ucXVioADopIStzl9t0Ubk0hFLt1EA58EpzFTFFUaapposCVKINsqkJmIlSzSjtcUoSfoSsfdUuhDpv2tKA/w469-h220/Benton%203.jpg" width="469" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">As we know, dinosaurs are not only important in
palaeontology, but also in entertainment and in retailing. Go into any home
with young children and you will find many dinosaur-related toys, pyjamas,
t-shirts etc. and there is a popular fascination with mythological dinosaurs
like the Loch Ness Monster and Sea Serpents. While there are artists’
impressions based on the sightings of the latter two, that is all we have to go
on and the transformations of known dinosaur types that appear on clothing, or
as toys, may be very far from the creatures that existed hundreds of millions
of years ago. Steve Brusatte, reviewing Bentons’ book (see above) remarks that the
images of dinosaurs it contains are real and can be used by media
professionals, but is this so? Is there a point where palaeontologists can get
a bit carried away with their liaison with the world of entertainment?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">One important view of science is that it is based on
falsifiable hypotheses and this is an approach that I have tried to follow in my research. However, falsifiable hypotheses are not possible with extinct
animals (and plants) and, however ingenious our attempts, we are bound to make
suppositions about the effects of time: we can design experiments
that last hundreds of millions of years, but it is impossible to get the
results. It means that palaeontology, including the study of dinosaur fossils,
is a highly-informed guessing game, with some practitioners and artists going
further into the world of imagination than others. Thus, the need for caution.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] Roger S. Wotton (in press) Birds and Christian Imagery.
In <i>Winged Worlds</i> (eds. Olga Petri and Michael Guida). London, Routledge.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[2] Michael J. Benton (2021) <i>Dinosaurs: New Visions of a
Lost World</i>. London, Thames & Hudson.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzXGSFVbVvU&t=847s&ab_channel=BBCEarth">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzXGSFVbVvU&t=847s&ab_channel=BBCEarth</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-73612563001687698562022-10-18T07:03:00.000-07:002022-10-18T07:03:35.815-07:00Jigsaws - and art appreciation<p>It is (Inter)National Jigsaw Day on 3rd November [1] and a
time to celebrate these wonderful puzzles.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkf1Kj6JwwcOfIZFf82XfF0FpAztuyBqqitvWzi5oPJGsTVhl75_MLY5BVIudD53Xh7fwnNnfhwF3Ah1Ot1ejs3s1_htIwVmgQKFf-TubEliJCbqW5ErnNqkt6k_a1kINsN3iBhiHxUjHhURoCOCl1qA9u2tgfRRfRopCxHHSI-G1enY8CjIfKTw/s275/Jigsaw%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkf1Kj6JwwcOfIZFf82XfF0FpAztuyBqqitvWzi5oPJGsTVhl75_MLY5BVIudD53Xh7fwnNnfhwF3Ah1Ot1ejs3s1_htIwVmgQKFf-TubEliJCbqW5ErnNqkt6k_a1kINsN3iBhiHxUjHhURoCOCl1qA9u2tgfRRfRopCxHHSI-G1enY8CjIfKTw/w370-h246/Jigsaw%201.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">The first jigsaw (more correctly, a dissected puzzle) was
created in 1762 by the map engraver John Spilsbury, who attached one of his
maps to a sheet of wood and then cut around various countries (see above). The
resultant pieces could be put together to form the map by local schoolchildren
and this aid to teaching geography was a big hit, and one that was much copied
[2]. When the treadle-driven jig saw was invented in the 1880s (1850s according
to [1]), there was a much easier method for producing puzzles for both children
and adults, and they have remained popular ever since. In addition to the invention
of the treadle saw, mass production has been aided by the development of
lithographic printing and by the development of plywood [2], and, during the
Depression of 1933 in the USA, millions of puzzles were produced [1], providing
almost a never-ending supply that could be rented cheaply from local outlets. We
still have wooden jigsaw puzzles, but most pictures are now backed by cardboard
and come in a variety of cut-out shapes, from squares to intricate interlocking
forms.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a young child, I always enjoyed jigsaw puzzles although,
regretfully, I can only recall one of the subjects – Anne Hathaway’s Cottage -
and they usually involved houses, country scenes, and the occasional railway
engine (much to my delight). I have no idea where our family obtained all the
puzzles, but some of them were bought new and given to us as birthday, or Christmas,
presents, and others must have been given to us by family members and friends
(although that is guesswork). The puzzles were especially important on those
few occasions when I was not able to attend Oldway Primary School because of
illness and, in winter, I would then sit in the dining room next to the coal
fire (our sole method of heating) and complete a jigsaw or two in the large tea
tray that seemed to be reserved for this purpose. Occasionally, I was able to listen
to the radio (that we called “the wireless”) at the same time, and this was
before we had a television, so I was not distracted.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_BIqwkwgahiaQTzdCAxwzMoI3OUpLSGEZto12VVsbOPtDULiJp649ZNlh63k56egp6s0Nt2qLd2iWyIrnq3wRDZW0eoWC6xztq2EdoGa3-OqJQ3v1Q8KmzNpKOQLTfQ1y7Ijnq4XsV5-NZZwlUUO9x_gSpYhX6znPWZqufXlgojkfNglv1_R1Q/s3165/Jigsaw%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2177" data-original-width="3165" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_BIqwkwgahiaQTzdCAxwzMoI3OUpLSGEZto12VVsbOPtDULiJp649ZNlh63k56egp6s0Nt2qLd2iWyIrnq3wRDZW0eoWC6xztq2EdoGa3-OqJQ3v1Q8KmzNpKOQLTfQ1y7Ijnq4XsV5-NZZwlUUO9x_gSpYhX6znPWZqufXlgojkfNglv1_R1Q/w443-h305/Jigsaw%203.jpg" width="443" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKnWV6LzC4lvzDVsLCY3LQPzOf8U34VPHQ-p4F9kFh5LcoCuujdDt466SPvO6fqmRg_esdGd-ggA9dpCdjiNVHy_3kcExP9CIjhOaLZdSSwF8FUWDuFRyMpf47aiqe1jB5bQ_tdMTgb8z2qoGyfe6eGcj2uHwSHudATRZfJyriyjk9KnEIOweOw/s2568/Jigsaw%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2568" data-original-width="2053" height="407" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKnWV6LzC4lvzDVsLCY3LQPzOf8U34VPHQ-p4F9kFh5LcoCuujdDt466SPvO6fqmRg_esdGd-ggA9dpCdjiNVHy_3kcExP9CIjhOaLZdSSwF8FUWDuFRyMpf47aiqe1jB5bQ_tdMTgb8z2qoGyfe6eGcj2uHwSHudATRZfJyriyjk9KnEIOweOw/w326-h407/Jigsaw%204.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I retained my love of jigsaws as I grew up, and regularly
received a “1000-Piece Puzzle” as a Christmas present. The procedure for
completing them was the same as I had always used. Firstly, all the pieces were
turned out into the box, keeping the upper lid, with the illustration of the completed
puzzle, on one side (see above – one of these jigsaws is mine; one not…). Then
came the laborious process of turning each piece right-side-up and placing it
on a table (instead of the tea tray), moving all edge pieces to one side.
Having completed the border, a decision was then made on which sections were to
be filled in first and this proceeded until the jigsaw was complete, and the
more pieces that had been put <i>in situ</i>, the easier it became. Each
completed puzzle was then broken apart and returned to the box.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We now have electronic jigsaw puzzles [3] and these make
everything easier, as all the pieces are right-side-up and they are even
orientated correctly. When each is placed correctly, the computer gives a reassuring
click and, of course, there are no missing pieces, so searching over and over
for one that is missing (as can happen with physical jigsaws) is a thing of the
past.The number of puzzles available on databases is huge and I
have been selecting those showing paintings by various artists. It was a surprise
to find that this aided my appreciation of the works, as I built up the image
in the piecemeal fashion of jigsaw puzzling without looking at the whole, other
than in the original thumbnail that I used for the initial selection. </p><p class="MsoNormal">It is a
quite different approach to the way we view paintings in a gallery, where we first
see the whole and then look at details. Using the “jigsaw approach”, I have
learned more about the power of perspective, as some foreground sections
involve many pieces, while there is much detail on single pieces of the scene
in the distance. I know about perspective, of course, but jigsaw construction
certainly emphasises its importance. More of a surprise is the use of colour
and, when working on an image of an Impressionist, or Post-Impressionist, painting,
for example, one sees how colour is used in surprising ways. It fascinates me
and adds to the enjoyment of puzzle solving – so much so that I can spend hours
on the computer, just as younger people do with games and other forms of
entertainment. It certainly shows the power of the “educational toy” that Spilsbury
invented 260 years ago.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://www.lapl.org/collections-resources/blogs/lapl/puzzling-history-puzzles">https://www.lapl.org/collections-resources/blogs/lapl/puzzling-history-puzzles</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://www.wentworthpuzzles.com/2019/05/07/history-of-jigsaw-puzzles">https://www.wentworthpuzzles.com/2019/05/07/history-of-jigsaw-puzzles</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.jigsawplanet.com/">https://www.jigsawplanet.com/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-66793748566465764702022-09-21T03:19:00.000-07:002022-09-21T03:19:19.900-07:00School sport – or how I failed to become an athlete<p>While watching the Commonwealth Games cycling from the
velodrome in London, I noticed a sign that read “Sport is just the beginning”. For
some reason, that set me thinking about my sporting career.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHsO6Y5GokE4ej4C5xUjr7u4ngHxVKjSWpyir1s-J-sfFy5qOINySxeQnD752yE7w3FRNWT-vr1Dv-ITp2nidOWPRf7DEXo6p_TsaJ5tWdWMftaU3JJCoLpQEqvIl2mpRIB9JLhL-krDQVwJgvqt9g3-H4BJwiSiNRu3EELsq2QQoolvTWX0fmA/s2209/Victoria%20Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1861" data-original-width="2209" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHsO6Y5GokE4ej4C5xUjr7u4ngHxVKjSWpyir1s-J-sfFy5qOINySxeQnD752yE7w3FRNWT-vr1Dv-ITp2nidOWPRf7DEXo6p_TsaJ5tWdWMftaU3JJCoLpQEqvIl2mpRIB9JLhL-krDQVwJgvqt9g3-H4BJwiSiNRu3EELsq2QQoolvTWX0fmA/w420-h355/Victoria%20Park.jpg" width="420" /></a></div><br />As I child, I enjoyed the freedom of living a few hundred
yards from Victoria Park (see above), in the Polsham area of Paignton, where I
could sail my yacht in the circular pond and play on swings and the slide in
the children’s playground (located beyond the trees in the distance). There was
also a large field in the park where friends and I played cricket in the summer
and kickaround football (soccer) in the winter. Cricket was my favourite sport and
I joined Paignton Cricket Club so that I could watch games and also operate the
scoreboard (being reminded frequently by the official scorer that I had it wrong
and therefore the players out on the pitch were being misinformed). Stan Cray
(below) was the professional (succeeded by Jack Kelly and Harold
“Dickie” Bird, of later umpiring fame) and they were early sporting heroes.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGTeANTIAYaP_ojslYKe-_bR1lxoSaCbAdY4BXKNO6NF7UsBmkFdHaOYzmqnpHLayNDNsRd0N_Ui5Io03MeUKdCIH7JbeCSEynex5ST6Mtze1YuQaXbShwjoAm1y1Q1jtFZes_QaadsAETfJZ-iYgrxsf6CQBgRSO0HkZ27cBUVf4Zx_81SMuHw/s279/Stan%20Cray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="230" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIGTeANTIAYaP_ojslYKe-_bR1lxoSaCbAdY4BXKNO6NF7UsBmkFdHaOYzmqnpHLayNDNsRd0N_Ui5Io03MeUKdCIH7JbeCSEynex5ST6Mtze1YuQaXbShwjoAm1y1Q1jtFZes_QaadsAETfJZ-iYgrxsf6CQBgRSO0HkZ27cBUVf4Zx_81SMuHw/s1600/Stan%20Cray.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was no coaching and I had no idea of the technique of
the fast bowling I enjoyed, other than to run in off about 30 paces and try and
launch the ball somewhere near the batsman. As for batting, all I knew was to
hammer the ball as hard as possible: I had no defence and no shots on the off side.
Although enthusiastic, I realised that I was never going to be a good player
and there was no hope of getting any coaching at Oldway Primary School, as all
the teachers, bar one, were women and they concentrated on netball with the
girls: Mr Mitchell, the sole male teacher, didn’t seem interested in sport. We
had games that involved running around the playground (coloured sashes and equipment
like beanbags, and balls of various sizes, being kept in the shelter at the
“Oldway Mansion end”) and we played in inter-school games [1]. There was also <i>Music
and Movement</i> in the Hall, with all of us following the instructions from a
radio, with its speaker contained in an enormous wooden box. The programme was
from a different age, as you can hear in a clip [2].</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was left to Torquay Boys’ Grammar School to introduce me
to other sports and to get me fit through gymnastics. In winter, it was
cross-country running, football, rugby and swimming: in summer it was
athletics, cricket, and swimming. Gymnastics was all year round and consisted
of learning how to vault (both gate vaults and vaulting horses), walk on a
balance beam, hang off wall bars, and do somersaults and stretches while on a
mat. It was never explained that these were components of gymnastics
competitions, they were just things we were made to do by Mr Stokes and Mr
Morrall, the former being serious about getting things right and the latter
just being deeply unpleasant. Both had a slightly disconcerting habit of
sticking their chests out, but that might have been a requirement for gym
teachers. Just as I left the school, another master came along (I think his
name was Mr Goulder) and he was quite different, being encouraging rather than
taking enjoyment from putting down the less able. I shall always remember Mr
Morrall, though.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiPaCyS4xN5hWr47aGv_Bi3qVXM0y17jmAlRsS2rugc2aDS_5asqWKLwqpKdWevB8WWnT8GxZk2u-qxEihOiyaRW70mHEMchAlI7uhje_xPpp-dcysxLRppd-ehQxMg_aq9TN0FsXmh1mpZkj9xdO1BnH0JwjerQipxNOFi_vaB8vxaKjTkiQ6Q/s532/TBGS%20Marine%20Spa%20baths.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="369" data-original-width="532" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiPaCyS4xN5hWr47aGv_Bi3qVXM0y17jmAlRsS2rugc2aDS_5asqWKLwqpKdWevB8WWnT8GxZk2u-qxEihOiyaRW70mHEMchAlI7uhje_xPpp-dcysxLRppd-ehQxMg_aq9TN0FsXmh1mpZkj9xdO1BnH0JwjerQipxNOFi_vaB8vxaKjTkiQ6Q/w435-h302/TBGS%20Marine%20Spa%20baths.jpg" width="435" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For swimming, we walked through the town to the Marine Spa
baths (see above in an image from the <i>Devon Live</i> web site) and my first
lesson involved jumping in to the shallow end. As a non-swimmer who was
terrified of putting my head under water, this was a challenge that I avoided
by hiding in the showers and, fortunately, Mr Betteridge didn’t notice when a
wet RSW climbed down the steps into the pool. All further lessons were with Mr
Roberts and even his more encouraging approach did not succeed and I spent my
time holding on to the side rail and thrashing about with my legs to give the
impression that I was trying. I certainly was trying, but remained a
non-swimmer until much later in life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFrtSLMBboX5hi288KlGfBIpJ43HNDngNXajfmMmGwT1QV9yydIa1dJ4hnnvb13AmqG5jfLikbreSpFUk0FmFDaWFcig51Xbo4AHpz5z_DMabufJ0iyX3WCqUErtO3f579TR-KfSgjZHL_ILBhkO176qDECrtS4ahG98I0qoqGtqwyBR9BoWoUw/s686/TBGS%20Shiphay%20playing%20fields.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="686" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFrtSLMBboX5hi288KlGfBIpJ43HNDngNXajfmMmGwT1QV9yydIa1dJ4hnnvb13AmqG5jfLikbreSpFUk0FmFDaWFcig51Xbo4AHpz5z_DMabufJ0iyX3WCqUErtO3f579TR-KfSgjZHL_ILBhkO176qDECrtS4ahG98I0qoqGtqwyBR9BoWoUw/w440-h308/TBGS%20Shiphay%20playing%20fields.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">In cross-country (actually road running) we ran through
country lanes, setting out from the sports hut that was located near to the
Girls’ Grammar School (it would have been to the right of the far-right corner
in the image above – this is a recent view of “our” playing field site, now
laid out rather differently [3]). We would walk from the Barton Road TBGS site
up to Shiphay, get changed, and then run on a specified route that had staff
members located at intervals to see that we completed the course. Some masters,
who had no involvement with sport, must have used this as a means of getting
away from the staff room early and I remember Mr Evans (“Mole”) scowling at me
as I went past in the last few “runners”, as I had delayed him from jumping
into his blue MG Midget to get home early.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were given some coaching in soccer, but knew the basics
from the times when we played together with friends. Rugby was different, as
many of us knew little about the game. We were taught to tackle, how to pass
backwards not forwards, and how to form a scrum – not helped when Mr Stokes
hollered “go hard” to encourage us… I had no idea about the rules of the game
and this was apparent when I volunteered to play rugby for Dobson House against
Clifford House. Our captain, Malcolm Baker, was a very good player who also
captained the school side, so knew the game well. I played in the scrum and was
so good at jumping for the ball in line-outs that Mr Gillham (“Fritz”), who was
refereeing, commented on my prowess after the game. Malcolm was less impressed,
as he felt I wasn’t getting the ball to the backs fast enough and, when he
called for a short line-out, I felt him forcibly grabbing my collar and yanking
me back, as I had no idea what he meant. During the same game, I remembered all
that I had been taught about tackling and stood my ground when a large opponent
raced toward me and then handed me off, the smack in my face nearly knocking me
out. I had no idea that sort of thing was allowed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the summer term, I enjoyed it when cricket was the sport
of the week, but athletics was more challenging, although it had a lot of
variety: discus, shot putt, javelin, sprinting, long jump, and high jump. We
knew about the position needed to throw the discus from the image of the statue
of the <i>Discobolus of Myron</i> (see below) that was the subject of the badge
on Mr Stokes’ CCPR blazer. The other athletic events were easy enough, but high
jump was not. We had to jump into a sand pit, invariably damp, and there was a
choice between straddle or western roll (this was before the “Fosbury Flop”,
and that would have been dangerous, anyway). I used a kind of bunny hop and
crashed through the bar, but it was the best I could do. It didn’t garner much
praise.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7t41QxjExNQwZeroCle34pVwOdqf7XkDzlBeAxvXg5y0Kw97AhUNmXb7TF84nnMYqj90uO13wS9L2N-0D0W0-58Qw47VyFgdU-T64BoXgg8Z9rFvXoJvLUvQjY2x7Tfc-N1lvoVpsxxdjoRXJjZFyr5caH7zjGe05ykuNp5bUzhyjUoSgTDudg/s284/TBGS%20discobolus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="170" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7t41QxjExNQwZeroCle34pVwOdqf7XkDzlBeAxvXg5y0Kw97AhUNmXb7TF84nnMYqj90uO13wS9L2N-0D0W0-58Qw47VyFgdU-T64BoXgg8Z9rFvXoJvLUvQjY2x7Tfc-N1lvoVpsxxdjoRXJjZFyr5caH7zjGe05ykuNp5bUzhyjUoSgTDudg/w230-h384/TBGS%20discobolus.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">So, my training in sports wasn’t the beginning mentioned in
the opening paragraph, but the end. Much later, I took swimming lessons and
became a reasonably good swimmer. Surprisingly, I also took up jogging and enjoyed
running around set routes; usually not needing to stop for rests, as in my
school cross-country days. </p><p class="MsoNormal">My main “sporting” activity remains walking alone
through country lanes and footpaths [4] and it has been since I was a teenager.
Now, the distance covered by each walk is a bit shorter, but I can still do 15 miles
without a break and at a reasonable pace of over 3 mph, too. I should be
grateful that all the attempts of gymnastics, and sports, masters failed to
make me an athlete, so that I haven’t needed to look back on past achievements
that I know I could never repeat. Ironically, given that the sign mentioned in
the opening paragraph was in the velodrome, I never learned to ride a bike. Who
knows, I may have found that as pleasurable as walking.</p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse</i>. e-book.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ve-93G9h10&ab_channel=BenMorris">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ve-93G9h10&ab_channel=BenMorris</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.kayelliott.co.uk/portfolio/project/torquay-girls-grammar-school/">https://www.kayelliott.co.uk/portfolio/project/torquay-girls-grammar-school/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2022/08/a-walk-in-countryside-is-not-always.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2022/08/a-walk-in-countryside-is-not-always.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-68938166388524357852022-09-15T02:46:00.000-07:002022-09-15T02:46:49.537-07:00Eating insects produced on an industrial scale<p>Eating insects is commonplace in many countries of the world,
yet most of us find the idea of consuming this readily available source of
proteins, and other dietary needs, to be repulsive. So much so, that eating
large beetle larvae has been used as a Bushtucker Trial in the UK reality show <i>I’m
a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here</i> (see below, image from Wales Online website). The trial was designed to shock
us, as well as the “victim”, but why are people repulsed by it? Firstly, it’s
because the insects are alive, and wriggling, at the time they are eaten, yet
we don’t hesitate to eat oysters that are alive, although they don’t wriggle,
of course. Also, we are not repulsed by eating winkles, cockles and mussels,
and don’t worry too much when the latter are boiled to death in wine when we
make the delicious Moules Marinière.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTya3KdKNa-ChFcFYhohb3e0spocIpFbw4ddj6hzryMIf6lmXjlTE94_pv8dv8cjQHAUCsq_8uGMvO3kaK99hr288MQ7-quxYnqILmU7WTClYeONpewjGZ7YoeQT6uGNZY7kMEIyzsPSwTzDRrVmoNOpZy6Gjot1VkFclW7mRm52y58FhoISXbBQ/s475/Bushtucker%20trial%20from%20Wales%20Online%20website.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="387" data-original-width="475" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTya3KdKNa-ChFcFYhohb3e0spocIpFbw4ddj6hzryMIf6lmXjlTE94_pv8dv8cjQHAUCsq_8uGMvO3kaK99hr288MQ7-quxYnqILmU7WTClYeONpewjGZ7YoeQT6uGNZY7kMEIyzsPSwTzDRrVmoNOpZy6Gjot1VkFclW7mRm52y58FhoISXbBQ/w440-h359/Bushtucker%20trial%20from%20Wales%20Online%20website.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">I have eaten many insects – bee larvae, mealworms, caddisfly
larvae – but they were all cooked. When I proffered them to colleagues, some
tried the various delicacies, but a majority turned down the chance to try something
new. We are much more squeamish than the residents of countries where insects
are a regular part of the diet and the splendid little book <i>Why Not Eat
Insects?</i> [1] describes examples, emphasising the many places where locusts
and grasshoppers are eaten, usually after cooking in various ways. In the
Introduction to the 1988 re-printing of the book, Dr Laurence Mound writes: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;"><i>Why Not Eat Insects?</i> is not
just a fascinating Victorian book, full of humour and ideas, it is also an
interesting – indeed profound – question about human behaviour. In Europe we
associate insect-eating arrogantly with lesser cultures. Australian aborigines
are welcome to their Bogong Moth Balls – compressed handfuls of moths swept
from their resting places beneath rocks and gently baked. People around the
great lakes of eastern Africa can eat their Kungu Cake – myriads of midges
pressed into a patty and cooked.. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If we are put off by the appearance of insects, we must
process them to make them more palatable: the Kungu Cake mentioned by Dr Mound is
an example, being a yellow-brown mass that belies its origins. <o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSNsb1Lc44ADKqVbXXk_zHJ_1_zUecF2U56YTLxR8cLxHUJRvyYi2T9YTDvkm74oPJJ8GaSPKqOnktv7MyyIkMm_D5cePH7CtOQQ6YixiHDp04k-_pLSYVquIq2HNY0VjLChYdDJl5fPWo65hRoCKfOlKuxbxkT07q3SO-84XN9yf1TKMRx1qOQ/s254/Clement%20Ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="246" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSNsb1Lc44ADKqVbXXk_zHJ_1_zUecF2U56YTLxR8cLxHUJRvyYi2T9YTDvkm74oPJJ8GaSPKqOnktv7MyyIkMm_D5cePH7CtOQQ6YixiHDp04k-_pLSYVquIq2HNY0VjLChYdDJl5fPWo65hRoCKfOlKuxbxkT07q3SO-84XN9yf1TKMRx1qOQ/w363-h375/Clement%20Ray.jpg" width="363" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Recently, I was very impressed by an interview with Clément
Ray (pictured above), the CEO of Innovafeed, that appeared in the magazine <i>Sustainable
Heroes</i> [2], produced by Nomura Greentech, a company that is a worldwide leader
in arranging finance for sustainable technologies (appropriate, as it is part
of the Japanese-owned Nomura Bank and most of the insects that I have eaten
have come from Japan, where the food culture is different to the one that I was
brought up to enjoy). In a Q and A in the magazine, Clément had this to say
when asked about human consumption of insect protein: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The EU [has] extremely favorable
regulations for insect protein. It authorized the use of insect protein in
aquaculture in 2017, for monogastrics (poultry and swine) in 2019 and for
humans last year [2021].. ..One of our big marketing
challenges is to make people more aware of the amazing potential and
nutritional value of insect-based proteins for humans. To that end, we are
currently developing prototypes and working on the appropriate packaging. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Present production by Innovafeed is used in animal feeds and
this, of course, adds another step in the chain of human food supply. As
Clément states, finding a way of marketing insect by-products to make them
desirable directly to consumers is the key challenge. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="323" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UCUMKlxbg_Y" width="389" youtube-src-id="UCUMKlxbg_Y"></iframe></div><p class="MsoNormal">The scale of production by Innovafeed is impressive, as can
be seen in the videoclip above. Until I viewed this, I had little appreciation
of the industrial farming of the black soldier fly (<i>Hermetia
illucens</i>) - details in [3] - and reared throughout the World as an animal food.
The important step, however, is the development of a product for direct human consumption,
as that is more energy efficient and thus sustainable. I am grateful to Nomura
Greentech for introducing me to Innovafeed, a company that is on its way to do
just that. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Vincent M Holt (1885) <i>Why Not Eat Insects</i>.
Reprinted, with a new Introduction in 1988. London, British Museum (Natural
History). </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://www.nomuragreentech.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/Sustainable-Heroes-VIII-Nomura-Greentech.pdf">https://www.nomuragreentech.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/Sustainable-Heroes-VIII-Nomura-Greentech.pdf</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Hermetia_illucens/">https://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Hermetia_illucens/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-43196448836412624562022-09-01T07:53:00.000-07:002022-09-01T07:53:38.999-07:00Trevor Grimshaw and Caspar David Friedrich<p>One of the last works of Trevor Grimshaw is a book of
black-and-white photographs entitled <i>Stilled Life</i> [1], the subject being
the redundant steam locomotives that were stored at Woodham’s Scrapyard in
Barry, South Wales (an image in colour taken by Peter Brabham is shown below).
For all of us that have happy memories of these splendid machines in action,
the scrapyard is a place of melancholy, even though delays in cutting up meant
that some locomotives were bought from Dai Woodham and several have subsequently
been re-built and returned to working order.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Id9APbGpNDFF6hKgEN1ck1GbP3ZLpFfK8d-D8KVCU6nj6yibB3jNIlOCWrSsZ-RjR7mJh1qcwDQyS3iinuS3bFdh8UNhhaBp1OyBvRBMVnqUKN9RPqIqEWIlnZd4ifu775JGUzG30BONodGKHytDlKVQ3Gn108aLcWpbqTiPn2zwJ0OHWZPqtw/s891/Woodham's%20scarpyard%20-%20image%20by%20Peter%20Brabham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="891" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Id9APbGpNDFF6hKgEN1ck1GbP3ZLpFfK8d-D8KVCU6nj6yibB3jNIlOCWrSsZ-RjR7mJh1qcwDQyS3iinuS3bFdh8UNhhaBp1OyBvRBMVnqUKN9RPqIqEWIlnZd4ifu775JGUzG30BONodGKHytDlKVQ3Gn108aLcWpbqTiPn2zwJ0OHWZPqtw/w446-h248/Woodham's%20scarpyard%20-%20image%20by%20Peter%20Brabham.jpg" width="446" /></a></div><p>Shortly after the photographs were taken, Trevor Grimshaw
died, aged 54, following a fire at his home, something which adds poignancy to
his story. In addition to his work as a photographer, Grimshaw was an accomplished
artist, creating monochrome images of northern landscapes, two of which (from
the Tate Gallery [3]) are illustrated below. Most viewers of these monochrome
works associate them with the paintings of L.S.Lowry (who owned three of them
[2]), but I think they consciously, or subconsciously, show the influence of
Caspar David Friedrich. To emphasise this point, I have converted two of
Friedrich’s paintings to greyscale to allow direct comparison.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzxOeKbuLw6RPB9NVtevEp4hVVXA1ZVi7rGwePZ6CLhR7yY98N-QNV8QPA9upV4nY03MXSFcBiTq-7KhPRBmKtlTtIfzpbvjWvjSjQvNsEDyqKKafyX1nm1BRTnr9NaSJNrakND6mEF83qB_K5yGVTT2tWvCn4Z5eWoI7X-BmC7qyVlViwcNWAA/s1536/Grimshaw%20Open%20Space%201974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1248" data-original-width="1536" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzxOeKbuLw6RPB9NVtevEp4hVVXA1ZVi7rGwePZ6CLhR7yY98N-QNV8QPA9upV4nY03MXSFcBiTq-7KhPRBmKtlTtIfzpbvjWvjSjQvNsEDyqKKafyX1nm1BRTnr9NaSJNrakND6mEF83qB_K5yGVTT2tWvCn4Z5eWoI7X-BmC7qyVlViwcNWAA/w410-h333/Grimshaw%20Open%20Space%201974.jpg" width="410" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsb3oGM77bshsnJmbDVNAnBatorrx1ziD7qzO1HZJsUCKSE2J2S5AxkHIMa706nnkgrTH4VF6jzLNkKiDHGIDWm35Z42t6IwNx_l1xQxgpvWFMBgSUSLDjyeKG9gI_T9TvuI5Gd1kh0c7FF2tBGHVDe6lVW-HjGVS38uT4OTfnGJh3b9IwRq6aQ/s1520/Grimshaw%20Northern%20Townscape%201974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1239" data-original-width="1520" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsb3oGM77bshsnJmbDVNAnBatorrx1ziD7qzO1HZJsUCKSE2J2S5AxkHIMa706nnkgrTH4VF6jzLNkKiDHGIDWm35Z42t6IwNx_l1xQxgpvWFMBgSUSLDjyeKG9gI_T9TvuI5Gd1kh0c7FF2tBGHVDe6lVW-HjGVS38uT4OTfnGJh3b9IwRq6aQ/w408-h333/Grimshaw%20Northern%20Townscape%201974.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The first is <i>Abbey in the Oak Wood</i> (below, upper) that
was exhibited in the Berlin Academy of Art in 1810 (as one of a pair – the
other was <i>Monk by the Sea</i> [4]) in which we see the ruins of an abbey
surrounded by trees that may be dead, or maybe had lost all their leaves, as
this is a winter scene. In the foreground are monks who are walking towards the
ruin. The whole effect is arresting and gloomy, but what does it mean to the
viewer? As with all pictures, we can know something of the artist’s intentions,
but we also use our own projections. We know that Friedrich was a Protestant
[4] and that this picture shows a Catholic ruin and desolation. He was also
fascinated by nature and landscape and this is one of Friedrich’s paintings
that, to use his phrase, “is to be seen and recognised only in belief” [4]. As Michael
Prodger [5] writes in <i>The Spectator</i>: “His
Christianity is not insistent but comes wrapped in another - more widely
practiced - religion: Nature. He offers the consolations and beauties of both.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkRfgracXQ0PFtdmf_aM78HneNQNCAXLVQkLAqU55nVe3nuDmyd6wiSWi5urv1DVKHsA-tETJf04xtVjI8Bf4nqRQZb-VsLcU-BLe7wVEkdKoXKhgykpXEXAP9Q8DA5EBbDJrzyJDtAkAnJwhGrFSmkZSZvliiCqFDza0oO1ELIHZAtn22opvhA/s860/Friedricch%20abbey%20in%20the%20oakwood%20bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="860" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkRfgracXQ0PFtdmf_aM78HneNQNCAXLVQkLAqU55nVe3nuDmyd6wiSWi5urv1DVKHsA-tETJf04xtVjI8Bf4nqRQZb-VsLcU-BLe7wVEkdKoXKhgykpXEXAP9Q8DA5EBbDJrzyJDtAkAnJwhGrFSmkZSZvliiCqFDza0oO1ELIHZAtn22opvhA/w440-h293/Friedricch%20abbey%20in%20the%20oakwood%20bw.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbOm7fEMtKgdW4LyuMXHoXnu8DXFJI3F9xG2lqlS7OH7tJxD4fwS4xdJK9i9EFzEK74HfkH_icibyiy4hQkbu5oUV9U2KL8-JBYk7hkZ2rl4dZ7GD9B-32uNhWqkkhrVQaLJ8wOUDdhFUQUUCk6vA7WgMcS6atMtvQv4kj0XMzgCpA2WZ5J88Xw/s1722/Friedrich%20Cross%20on%20the%20Baltic%20Sea%20bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1722" data-original-width="1200" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbOm7fEMtKgdW4LyuMXHoXnu8DXFJI3F9xG2lqlS7OH7tJxD4fwS4xdJK9i9EFzEK74HfkH_icibyiy4hQkbu5oUV9U2KL8-JBYk7hkZ2rl4dZ7GD9B-32uNhWqkkhrVQaLJ8wOUDdhFUQUUCk6vA7WgMcS6atMtvQv4kj0XMzgCpA2WZ5J88Xw/w291-h418/Friedrich%20Cross%20on%20the%20Baltic%20Sea%20bw.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The second painting of Friedrich that I have chosen - <i>Cross
by the Baltic Sea</i> (1815) (above, lower) - uses a feature that occurred many
times in his work – the appearance of a solitary cross in a landscape. This
symbol of Christ, and the redemption of His crucifixion, is placed in locations
quite unlike Calvary and, in this painting, is on an outcrop by the sea, with
an anchor near its base. Just as in <i>Abbey in the Oak Wood</i>, there is a
feeling of slightly threatening mystery and, at the same time, a sense of
spiritual hope.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now let’s look at the two monochrome works by Trevor
Grimshaw. In <i>Open Space</i> (1974) (the upper of the Tate images above), a
solitary, bare tree is in the foreground, while the foggy background features a
church tower and factories, with one chimney belching out smoke that is being
carried away on the wind. We recognise that the tree, like those painted by
Friedrich, shows desolation and, perhaps, death by pollution from the industry
that replaced the natural world. The presence of the church is more difficult
to interpret – did it represent something from Grimshaw’s spiritual beliefs, or
was it used to indicate something that was longer-lasting, and more valuable, than
the factories?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In <i>Northern Townscape</i> (1974) (the lower of the Tate
images above), we see another church tower, with factories and several chimneys,
one of which is producing dark smoke that suffuses the upper part of the image,
while steam is rising from elsewhere in the factory complex. The impression
gained is very similar to that in <i>Open Space</i>, but the foreground is
dominated by two poles, one of which is clearly a telegraph pole. Both stand
isolated, and are connected to nothing – there are no wires – so we gain a
sense of isolation and of disconnection to the rest of the scene. Unlike
Friedrich’s crosses, however, there seems little hope here and my impression is
that Grimshaw did not enjoy the industrial landscapes that he reproduced,
despite their attractiveness as structures [5], just as he did not like the
rusting steam locomotives he photographed in the scrapyard at Barry.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, I could be very wrong in drawing parallels between
Friedrich and Grimshaw, and in interpreting their images in the way that I have
done. That I react strongly to their work is an indication of the power of both
artists to stimulate both the imagination and the emotions of the viewer.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://trevorgrimshawphotography.art/about/">https://trevorgrimshawphotography.art/about/</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/greater-manchester-news/tribute-to-artist-who-portrayed-bleak-1194546">https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/greater-manchester-news/tribute-to-artist-who-portrayed-bleak-1194546</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/trevor-grimshaw-1220">https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/trevor-grimshaw-1220</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] Johannes Grave (2017) <i>Caspar David Friedrich</i>.
Munich, Prestel Verlag.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES">[5] </span><a href="https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/an-artist-for-our-times"><span lang="ES">https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/an-artist-for-our-times</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES" style="mso-ansi-language: ES;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES" style="mso-ansi-language: ES;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES" style="color: #141414; font-family: "Open Sans",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-70137553246183651952022-08-23T02:52:00.000-07:002022-08-23T02:52:43.881-07:00Red valerian and red sandstone<p>I was born, and brought up, in Paignton, one of the three
towns that make up Torbay, and, despite leaving in 1968, I have a strong
attachment to my roots in South Devon. Unfortunately, I get few opportunities
to visit but, very close to where I live currently, in Berkhamsted, there is a
patch of flowers (see below) that instantly brings back memories from over
fifty years ago. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0qovWg4lsi72CgBgw91OCFDls34JaiRtVebXiprYAJa7_K9p7tVFblLUtNyzEIc6hQPlPItRbZs5KAiWTuQ_Qr9DgU50sokbOjMR0ixAz7Hy8QQAP43Z3KCuy1E4m6HcLXBKW8IapjUnqDw9TVG7bOl0EE7cAMFnWSREgwGHw_NviIfH41HFsA/s906/Red%20Valerian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="906" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0qovWg4lsi72CgBgw91OCFDls34JaiRtVebXiprYAJa7_K9p7tVFblLUtNyzEIc6hQPlPItRbZs5KAiWTuQ_Qr9DgU50sokbOjMR0ixAz7Hy8QQAP43Z3KCuy1E4m6HcLXBKW8IapjUnqDw9TVG7bOl0EE7cAMFnWSREgwGHw_NviIfH41HFsA/w380-h286/Red%20Valerian.jpg" width="380" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Red valerian is a very common plant in the south west, being
a widely-dispersed introduction from its native Mediterranean region – appropriate,
given that Torbay prides itself on bring the English Riviera. It probably
arrived as a garden plant and is described by Clapham Tutin and Warburg [1] as
being ”abundantly naturalised on old walls, cliffs, etc. particularly in the
south and west.” It certainly has the ability to thrive where conditions look
unsuitable for plant life and its establishment can be a threat to the fabric
of old buildings [2]. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My recollection of red valerian is the strong colour
combinations that its pink flowers and green leaves make with the red sandstone
that is the underlying rock of the central part of Torbay and which was used
extensively for building construction. Technically described as a sandstone
breccia conglomerate, this rock, exposed at Roundham Head, for example (see
below), has been used in building houses and walls in Paignton since mediaeval
times [3]. I lived in Polsham Park (the cul-de-sac road), part of the Polsham Park Estate designed by W.G.Goudrey and George Soudron Bridgman, and
constructed in the last decade of the Nineteenth Century [3]. This was 50
years after the building boom in Torquay, where many villas were in an
Italianate style, to reflect houses of the Mediterranean Riviera. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdDCqOCXoskKQX5tL-TsU9IKtFLPdr8TsdqQcusrROgDYTeu8IzTEQl9TMI5kKiZOaVthrUqFBtV_AuMEwpJAvcCmA-qQiN2T4Z_vKE2O8DmRaKZuzpKySaAVQZgPbQJPWMNzm9cE8xYulFZITsJfsR7aHus01pNUWTydUhot9TqdUU42mlFZqA/s1828/Polsham%206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1481" data-original-width="1828" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdDCqOCXoskKQX5tL-TsU9IKtFLPdr8TsdqQcusrROgDYTeu8IzTEQl9TMI5kKiZOaVthrUqFBtV_AuMEwpJAvcCmA-qQiN2T4Z_vKE2O8DmRaKZuzpKySaAVQZgPbQJPWMNzm9cE8xYulFZITsJfsR7aHus01pNUWTydUhot9TqdUU42mlFZqA/w418-h338/Polsham%206.jpg" width="418" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The buildings of the Polsham Park Estate were dressed in
brick – ours were cream in colour – but the sandstone was unforuately suject to
weathering, as anyone looking at Roundham Head, and other coastal promontories,
readily appreciates. As our house had a verandah, one of the jobs that I helped
with was the sweeping up of the red dust that accumulated on the tiles (red, of
course) that were used as flooring. Nowadays, the appearance of many of the houses
has been altered by the extensive use of PVC replacement windows, and roofing
other than slate, the Conservation Report [3] stating that “almost
overwhelmingly the workmanship is inferior in design and materials: artificial
slate and PVC glazing are almost universal replacements.” Two recent images of
houses on the Estate are shown below:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcIlKQ9NfGsWI859IuGFQMz902SvzJNDr6ameVfrxKo_oQQRNMVFyp4MPQe5hikJC5zYQ3U2rnBkQAc2zPy7NRA_o-V2vQoyT9HxGm1G_QqgBwFxMJSnciG_VZBlH5L35XdDd7pznW5tNM6_gycfvH_diAsHlIn7JtInRsSFBT3iHz30PW1WM-g/s3750/Polsham%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2923" data-original-width="3750" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcIlKQ9NfGsWI859IuGFQMz902SvzJNDr6ameVfrxKo_oQQRNMVFyp4MPQe5hikJC5zYQ3U2rnBkQAc2zPy7NRA_o-V2vQoyT9HxGm1G_QqgBwFxMJSnciG_VZBlH5L35XdDd7pznW5tNM6_gycfvH_diAsHlIn7JtInRsSFBT3iHz30PW1WM-g/w446-h347/Polsham%201.jpg" width="446" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zo6yiSd6pZgVbTg2FHtQNa5kR1s5kEnqrZUjbcdScKM3KJOdWOZzuRcz0_x2OE0qbLPfhK73FDuR1Na11TuJNABLU1piTt31TF_doBPTQe8pNsfRu9_TI8D6ED6aaSODbl2yDfmklmhOinyr2TXRDVS1vm-EaCqOYahD3J95hggaYclySxq5hw/s3076/Polsham%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2245" data-original-width="3076" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zo6yiSd6pZgVbTg2FHtQNa5kR1s5kEnqrZUjbcdScKM3KJOdWOZzuRcz0_x2OE0qbLPfhK73FDuR1Na11TuJNABLU1piTt31TF_doBPTQe8pNsfRu9_TI8D6ED6aaSODbl2yDfmklmhOinyr2TXRDVS1vm-EaCqOYahD3J95hggaYclySxq5hw/w450-h329/Polsham%202.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When I lived in this area of Paignton, it was little changed
from its original condition, but that wasn’t important to me. What I enjoyed,
was being able to run along Polsham Park (the road) to Victoria Park (the
entrance to which is shown below) where I could play on the swings, slide and
roundabouts, run around on the “pitches”, or go at top speed along the path by
the railway line to exit within easy walking distance of the railway station, there to
indulge in my favourite pastime of trainspotting. Much of the park was
completed in 1894, with the boating pond (see below in a separate image), where
I sailed my elderly, re-painted yacht, completed in 1895 [3]. The “pitches”
next to the main road to the west were previously the Victoria Nurseries and
were added to the Park in the first half of the twentieth Century.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Wia-iP0a5Qq7PRnY4zgO8tMEBviQ4vwmT_clgjKDR4_RjyiCYuRgCnhgwvJNwAbNTSgT1b0hy2JMONaV4pY2gaBthZfoc7xwl3dbnE30YSK9eFKo9aHgsSGx-hGKSE7tcQ-5hz4Mpspl53Vp2XrhF4S5EQ8jAnEbiETLsT23gAcb3exuASnXdA/s3864/Polsham%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2578" data-original-width="3864" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Wia-iP0a5Qq7PRnY4zgO8tMEBviQ4vwmT_clgjKDR4_RjyiCYuRgCnhgwvJNwAbNTSgT1b0hy2JMONaV4pY2gaBthZfoc7xwl3dbnE30YSK9eFKo9aHgsSGx-hGKSE7tcQ-5hz4Mpspl53Vp2XrhF4S5EQ8jAnEbiETLsT23gAcb3exuASnXdA/w433-h288/Polsham%203.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmCm0hamdZIyDrP-NDX465fYvQV1r3egwUugEZSJxO0PiBpJ7Ubh0MhqugXP3N5nAbvhxHYkQoC1hVCaJvB3YOWP_xTCpMA3U45Qbp4yacwnxthyAGfNUq5IC_JSg0lo8wHJdXfKeXwKLVsdfRFxzwBemdOMEt60ke8ty-2tU3rOsNWlwnWHtWA/s4032/Polsham%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmCm0hamdZIyDrP-NDX465fYvQV1r3egwUugEZSJxO0PiBpJ7Ubh0MhqugXP3N5nAbvhxHYkQoC1hVCaJvB3YOWP_xTCpMA3U45Qbp4yacwnxthyAGfNUq5IC_JSg0lo8wHJdXfKeXwKLVsdfRFxzwBemdOMEt60ke8ty-2tU3rOsNWlwnWHtWA/w433-h325/Polsham%204.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">None of this was known to me either, and which child would
be interested in such things? Now that I am much older, and enjoy nostalgia, it
is all fascinating to discover the history of what was so familiar in the late
1950s and early 1960s. Certainly, the combination of red valerian and red sandstone remain
powerful triggers for memories of the joys of childhood and an appreciation of the “respectable” part
of the town that was once my home.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] A.R.Clapham, T.G.Tutin and E.F.Warburg (1959) <i>Excursion
Flora of the British Isles</i>. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">[2] R. Motti, G.
Bonanomi and A. Stinca (2021) Biodeteriogens at a southern Italian Heritage
site: Analysis and management of vascular flora on the walls of Villa Rufalo. </span><i><span lang="SV" style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: SV;">International
Biodeterioration & Biodegradation</span></i><span lang="SV" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> 162 <a href="https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ibiod.2021.105252">https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ibiod.2021.105252</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="SV">[3] </span><a href="https://www.torbay.gov.uk/media/7583/polsham-caa.pdf"><span lang="SV">https://www.torbay.gov.uk/media/7583/polsham-caa.pdf</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="SV"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-31005295704206531152022-08-19T01:04:00.004-07:002023-11-05T01:59:55.941-08:00A walk in the countryside is not always a positive experience<p>In his Introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics edition of
Rousseau’s <i>Reveries of the Solitary Walker</i> [1], Russell Goulbourne
writes:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">For Rousseau, ..musings and movement
go hand in hand. Walking is.. ..thought-inspiring: ‘Seated at my table, with my
pen in my hand and my paper in front of me, I have never been able to achieve
anything. It is when I am out walking among the rocks and the woods, it is at
night, sleepless in my bed, that I write in my head’. This link between musings
and movement.. ..is fundamental to the <i>Reveries</i>.. ..since Rousseau based
his text on notes he had scribbled down on twenty-seven playing cards while out
walking..<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAJiV6E3HIGtDQ218Q6-nM25mg1MBE1q2_2GE_YlIDwuNVXsAkbAHOq6H3JhARqW1NpGc3KzGkgLk1K3uPCaBIAM-74bPCWjHxdyNHIaY78sJOVmgecYlKTgEUqO1_Ry274nm7rKd_EB4-TSCulNNvQsXOGfwcrKXuyaWsb-_MPK8QxFEYld-Rw/s3545/Malvern%20Hills%207.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2740" data-original-width="3545" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAJiV6E3HIGtDQ218Q6-nM25mg1MBE1q2_2GE_YlIDwuNVXsAkbAHOq6H3JhARqW1NpGc3KzGkgLk1K3uPCaBIAM-74bPCWjHxdyNHIaY78sJOVmgecYlKTgEUqO1_Ry274nm7rKd_EB4-TSCulNNvQsXOGfwcrKXuyaWsb-_MPK8QxFEYld-Rw/w409-h316/Malvern%20Hills%207.jpg" width="409" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid74iOAj0EGcgyTGyxGE-brfXp8p-SOnSPGRcktDyd_O2tZZyHNGGvYT8L1vC-o6XClpZbiL7k9rOdMOZHGP-sFkj7uSFm2QD8InNqiRqji60bJ6G4Ob8qSuN49gj_5SYNg1sQ2erIws5D-Cw913NdMEz4mA4W-M_enzi6noQPwv1HovFZbIfoiw/s3963/Malvern%20Hills%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2312" data-original-width="3963" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid74iOAj0EGcgyTGyxGE-brfXp8p-SOnSPGRcktDyd_O2tZZyHNGGvYT8L1vC-o6XClpZbiL7k9rOdMOZHGP-sFkj7uSFm2QD8InNqiRqji60bJ6G4Ob8qSuN49gj_5SYNg1sQ2erIws5D-Cw913NdMEz4mA4W-M_enzi6noQPwv1HovFZbIfoiw/w462-h270/Malvern%20Hills%203.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">A similar approach to the creative impulse provided by solitary
walking in the countryside was described by Edward Elgar, who also enjoyed
riding a bicycle over the lanes and tracks of Worcestershire and, especially,
the Malvern Hills (see above). In a letter from Malvern on 11th July 1900 to
A.J.Jaeger (“Nimrod” of the <i>Enigma Variations</i>), Elgar writes, describing
a musical phrase [2]:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">This is what I hear all day – the
trees are singing my music – or have I sung theirs? It’s too lovely here.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, I don’t have the genius of Rousseau or Elgar,
but I understand their sentiments. For me, walking through the countryside has
always been my favourite exercise (I never learned to ride a bicycle) and provides
a source of freedom from day-to-day problems. It is more that that, though, in
that it enables me to appreciate the natural world and to observe closely all
the changes that occur through the year. Like Rousseau and Elgar, my walks are
also a time when ideas come to the fore – perhaps for a different way of looking
at something, or for generating ideas for a new talk, or blog post.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Early morning walks in summer are especially uplifting and I
have recently discovered that short video clips act as aides-memoires. Being a
technophobe, I have only recently started using the video recorder on my mobile
telephone and the clip below shows a section of country lane that opens to
reveal a pretty cottage with well-kept gardens on either side of the road. This
has always seemed odd to me, as I am not a gardener and I prefer the wonderful
complexity of natural world as it is – there’s no doubting that it is
attractive, though.<o:p></o:p></p><div><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy10HppevxvDGiHJSYHBDE_iqkwPqTw-9nuWqRh6oAr3TQBE_osRrMyx0RvrAkPi6BTF8B6hMd-gMLDyPZMYQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal">Further in the dawn walk, I headed through a field and took
a path into a wood. The transition appealed to me, so I took a video as I
walked from the one to the other and the clip can be viewed below, complete
with soundtrack:<o:p></o:p></p><p></p><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/740438929?h=00717afbd4" width="640"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal">My experience was very similar to that of Geoff Nicholson
[3]:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">Even as I was falling I thought,
Oh crap, I’m not going all the way to the ground, am I? I’ll stop myself
somehow. I’ll keep my footing. I’ll regain my balance. And then I knew I was
mistaken about that. I was going all the way. I’d passed the tipping point. Oh
crap indeed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">Then there was the impact, a much
greater, more generalised blow than I’d been anticipating. I was on the ground,
winded, hurting all over, feeling like a fool, trying to breathe deeply and
regularly, and thinking.. ..’Oh man this really, really hurts, this is a bad
one’.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Nicholson broke his arm, but I was luckier as I only had cuts on
various parts of my face and arms and a badly swollen hand. Once I had
recovered a little, I gingerly pushed myself up and then sat for a while on a
tree stump before walking the 2 km to my home. A visit to the hospital later in
the day revealed a dislocated, and broken, little finger that required surgery
under general anaesthetic and, as I write, my hand and lower arm are in plaster and
I await the verdict of the medical team as to the extent of healing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was a fool to concentrate on making the videoclip and not
looking where I was putting my feet. A lesson learned, certainly, but I so look
forward to going out on more solitary walks in the countryside. Despite recent
evidence, thy are good for me…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Russell Goulbourne (2011) <i>Introduction. Reveries of
the Solitary Walker by Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>. Oxford, Oxford University
Press.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] Percy M. Young (1956) <i>Letters of Edward Elgar and
Other Writings</i>. London, Geoffrey Bles.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] Geoff Nicholson (2010) <i>The Lost Art of Walking</i>.
Chelmsford, Harbour.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My thanks to Anna Easton for her advice on the use of
videoclips.<o:p></o:p></p><br /></div>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-26906243895008434602022-07-28T02:05:00.000-07:002022-07-28T02:05:56.663-07:00Learning about Picasso<p>For the past six weeks, I’ve been taking a WEA course on
Picasso. Caroline Levisse, our tutor, has the happy knack of being informal, and
inviting questions of those attending, while also having an in-depth knowledge of art
history. As a result, the group had its own dynamic and it was interesting to
hear what members had to say about Picasso, his life, and the many varieties of
his art – from paintings, through sculpture, to ceramics and much else [1].</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbu0OpAZ3xyJRD3fHvO1ik3MkKihaixPzPeTaGaYlVl86jiJnhTMp2UeoXUeyWaSCUPp7kZoDYV6JhR3ypx_IY2ZL3Ihvi_9sTv418IXDM9fwbbLXE3fYQBEf61-M-cOR9_70aIlcOxwF_nDI_mc0puR2wBVNq2FRBwWmGag_fPZoaykPn55x-IA/s1513/Picasso%20Turner%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1513" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbu0OpAZ3xyJRD3fHvO1ik3MkKihaixPzPeTaGaYlVl86jiJnhTMp2UeoXUeyWaSCUPp7kZoDYV6JhR3ypx_IY2ZL3Ihvi_9sTv418IXDM9fwbbLXE3fYQBEf61-M-cOR9_70aIlcOxwF_nDI_mc0puR2wBVNq2FRBwWmGag_fPZoaykPn55x-IA/w519-h225/Picasso%20Turner%201.jpg" width="519" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Most were very enthusiastic about what they saw, and we
were all happy to acknowledge that Picasso was an extraordinarily talented
artist and, probably, a great one. Others, while admiring his virtuosity, were left to question why they didn’t “get” some of his art, even that
which was based on artists whose work they <u>did</u> react to positively. I was
one of the dissenters, and was relieved when one of the class members said he admired <i>Guernica</i>
(see above), but was not especially moved by it. His comment came as a relief to me, as I found it difficult to engage with much of Picasso’s work and I
started to wonder why.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Since I was young, I have loved looking at paintings and
have tried to interpret what I see. As an undergraduate, I made many visits to
the National and Tate Galleries in London and attempted to learn more by
listening to talks and by reading. Some paintings made an instant impact on me,
some took more time, and some left me baffled. Regrettably, much modern art
fell into the latter category, but I was bowled over by the large-scale paintings
by Turner: one of them, <i>Sun Setting over a Lake</i>, is shown below.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvhGRXO0ElEKhMbG5a6r6trKCpzrad8y4HSudgg5dVYeDgwQbO31fep4nkqigeA2tBFLiqH8-nM0xcDFCVUvvVCyFWIs1vg9lT1EvX523vFcKTTHbXpmzKSJi65Og9kDiUfDNCKRkTiIKgtpfL_K45SaccTaDBL-KBkmA2g2wFR1hAt1KhM9zCag/s1536/Picasso%20Turner%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="1536" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvhGRXO0ElEKhMbG5a6r6trKCpzrad8y4HSudgg5dVYeDgwQbO31fep4nkqigeA2tBFLiqH8-nM0xcDFCVUvvVCyFWIs1vg9lT1EvX523vFcKTTHbXpmzKSJi65Og9kDiUfDNCKRkTiIKgtpfL_K45SaccTaDBL-KBkmA2g2wFR1hAt1KhM9zCag/w481-h360/Picasso%20Turner%202.jpg" width="481" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">In contrast to Picasso, Turner’s work focussed on the
“essence” of the world around us. He had the skill to paint portraits and, as James
Hamilton writes [2]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Turner’s education as an artist
was running on a number of fronts in the early 1790s [when in his teens]. He
followed the standard Academy tuition of drawing from casts of antique
sculpture, in preparation for the Life Class, which he entered on 25th June
1792.. .. Through the evidence of two self-portraits made at the beginning and
end of the decade, Turner had more than a passing interest in becoming
competent in portraiture, and must have taken lessons in it. All this was available
to every other ambitious artist of his generation; but what stands out in
Turner’s case is the breadth of his interest, and his dogged refusal to specialise.
At all times he kept a weather eye open for opportunities to make money out of
his art. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From Hamilton’s description, we see parallels with Picasso:
both had a rare talent for several categories of painting (and Picasso had many
other creative outlets) and both had an interest in the monetary value of their
work. To this can be added their enjoyment of a messy studio, and a
powerful impulse to draw and paint at every opportunity. Both were strongly
egocentric and driven men and there is an interesting “compare and contrast exercise" for someone interested in those aspects of their lives.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqWNexwYzZw6D8KhhhWcqrS1KyFVPduQoxEJDI-RscGu0uyfoTz2PhuU-OVmdxffTq5H-FzPxexZcaOV20Ik-2_FfRqqf7Xi2Ds6enJOvpdq24pTuIcFHTNy5nETTPTBX-BHSI_34AoMPvxHOaHFmc1VHZXBM8xc7xs5Wgv-bQbYJjzfmg_FKRw/s730/Picasso%20Turner%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="730" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqWNexwYzZw6D8KhhhWcqrS1KyFVPduQoxEJDI-RscGu0uyfoTz2PhuU-OVmdxffTq5H-FzPxexZcaOV20Ik-2_FfRqqf7Xi2Ds6enJOvpdq24pTuIcFHTNy5nETTPTBX-BHSI_34AoMPvxHOaHFmc1VHZXBM8xc7xs5Wgv-bQbYJjzfmg_FKRw/w522-h320/Picasso%20Turner%203.jpg" width="522" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">In Turner’s works, people play an ancillary role to the
landscape in which they are portrayed: in his classical works in the style of
Claude, the distant figures give scale and this is true also of other works,
like <i>Snow Storm: Hannibal and his Army Crossing the Alps</i> (see above),
where the many members of the army give the scene a strong sense of the sublime.
Picasso, on the other hand, used a strongly anthropocentric approach and most
of his works featured portraits of one kind or another and, while the contents
of houses had a role in providing a setting, landscape did not.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Is this why I find it difficult to appreciate Picasso’s
work, while being moved by that of Turner? Is it that I find Picasso’s use of
strong lines challenging and find the more diffuse shapes in Turner’s work
easier to relate to? What is certain is that I am a Romantic and I have also
been shaped by my career in biology, with over forty years’ of research
on animals, plants, microorganisms, and the environment in which they live.
While recognising that humans are unique, and very highly evolved, I am aware that we are animals that are intimately linked to the natural world, even
though we can isolate ourselves from it. That form of thinking must have come
early in my life, for I always liked solitary walks along the coasts and lanes
of Devonshire while growing up. Maybe that is the root of my Romanticism and
why I can respect Picasso as a great artist, but find his work puzzling?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] James <span style="background: white; color: #333333;">Voorhies
(2004) Pablo Picasso (1881–1973). In <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">Heilbrunn Timeline of Art
History</span></i>. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. </span><a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/pica/hd_pica.htm"><span style="background: white;">http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/pica/hd_pica.htm</span></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">[2] James Hamilton
(1997) </span><i style="color: #333333;">Turner, a Life</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">. London, Hodder and Stoughton.</span></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-33142080002917524172022-07-08T09:08:00.000-07:002022-07-08T09:08:22.734-07:00Seaside resorts: seasons, decades and geological time<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">We have all visited seaside resorts and some of us are
fortunate enough to have been brought up in one: I lived in Paignton in South
Devon and went to school in Torquay more than 50 years ago, so knew both towns
well. I expect that they are rather different now to the way that I remember
them, while both resorts have an interesting history. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In his foreword to John Pike’s <i>Iron Horse to the Sea</i>,
Crispin Gill writes [1]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The turnpike roads to Exmouth and
Torquay first created the resorts of South Devon, but it was the coming of the
railway.. ..that really saw these places grow. In the early days it was the
aristocracy and the upper middle class who could afford holidays when these
resorts were frequented mainly in the winter. Since the First World War, with the
growth of holidays with pay, these resorts have become accessible to all and
are now among the most popular in Britain. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Initially, the railway terminated at Torquay (at what is now
Torre) and Pike [1] describes the onward extension (including quotes from private
papers supporting the proposal to build the railway): </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The route of the proposed railway
was 11 miles in length and approached quite near to Brixham which was then
becoming an important fishing port. Equally of interest is the prophecy of a
future for Paignton ‘in climate of equal salubrity with Torquay, it possesses,
in addition, a hard sandy beach nearly two miles in length, admirably adapted for
bathing. Being in the centre of the Bay, it also embraces, within easy drives,
all points of beauty … [it] annually draws to it numerous visitors for health
as well as recreation.’ </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In <i>Bradshaw’s Descriptive Railway Handbook</i> [2],
originally published in 1863 shortly after the extension had been completed, we
have a fulsome account of the pleasures of Torquay, while Paignton is described
thus: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The situation of this place is
really beautiful, commanding a central aspect of Torbay. Its picturesque church
and the sand rounding from it to the fine woods of Tor Abbey, and the town and
pier below it, form a pleasing <i>coup d’œil</i>. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No mention of the swampy land between the railway and the
sea and, by the relative size of the two entries, readers of <i>Bradshaw’s</i>
will gain the impression that Paignton was regarded as a poor neighbour of
Torquay, although there were wealthy residents. This may well have been the
attitude of many outsiders, and some Paignton residents would not disagree with
that perception, despite our pride in the town. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The importance of winter visitors has been emphasised by
StJohn Thomas and Smith [3]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">As late as the 1890s, when
following the abandonment of Brunel’s broad gauge, the first through trains ran
from the North to Torbay, the resorts were still busier in winter than in
summer, when many of their facilities closed down. Sea bathing (of course dependent
on the bathing machine) was however growing rapidly in popularity and certainly
local traffic was heavier in summer; Exeter in particular has a strong
tradition of sending its people to the sea on day trips.. ..and by 1914 the
upper middle class family by the sea was more usually a summer affair. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By my time, in the 1950s, Paignton was a popular family
resort and any wealthy visitors coming down in winter for their health were not
apparent to us residents. In the opening of <i>Walking with Gosse</i>, I
describe what I remembered [4]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">A</span>fter the summer holiday season,
Paignton in the 1950s was typical of many seaside towns in the UK, being quiet
and left to its residents. A small theatre put on rather good amateur pantomimes
at Christmas and, at other times, hosted school music festivals, elocution
contests, and the occasional Billy Graham-style Christian “Crusade”. Bakers,
butchers, grocers, newsagents, chemists, banks and other high street shops supported
the local community; while pubs, churches and clubs, associated with
organisations like the British Legion, provided social life. In almost all
homes, meals were prepared from basic ingredients and, as a treat, fish and
chip shops dotted through the town were a source of takeaway meals: the fish
being cod, plaice, haddock, bream or rock salmon (dogfish), all caught locally. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt; text-align: justify;">Nothing
much seemed to change in the pattern of life during the week, with Saturdays a
time for relaxation and, perhaps, watching, or playing, sport. Sundays were for
dressing in one’s “best” clothes, with very few shops, or places of
entertainment, open. It was a day for gentle walks, going to church or Sunday
School, and having a roast lunch (called dinner), followed by tea with tinned
fruit and fancy cakes. If the routine of the week was broken by illness,
support came from General Practitioners and a small hospital; while several
dentists looked after teeth and dentures (that were much commoner then than
now).<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That is one person’s view of winter in a summer-resort where
all the shops selling rock, “kiss-me-quick hats”, saucy postcards, etc.. were
boarded up, as were the stalls selling candyfloss, seafood, chips and the like.
Some cafes remained open, but winter provided a bleaker outlook that was such a
contrast to the summer, when train after train brought holidaymakers on
Saturdays (changeover day), with similar numbers of trains taking them home
after a week. I have tried to capture Paignton in winter in photographs (see
below), as, to quote a 1918 advertisement, “o<span style="color: #202122; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">ne picture is worth
a thousand words”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnO4fZJWrE8ouqkREEyt1uYpT_nQrXQ3GgQugGNLvUFcBTbyhGpAtaPMgDLmrYt9Qeq7M7PNdiRDqHv7XL4L6wr77PWRmkbmFK6Gen-8tDGSB_UFjO7skL75kZLfFzQ4COjktzk7YM6SbKz-t0oJx0mVeXHgHDs5WedH4oRBdDPJAIOlKWD5oRuQ/s3615/Paignton%20Pier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2591" data-original-width="3615" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnO4fZJWrE8ouqkREEyt1uYpT_nQrXQ3GgQugGNLvUFcBTbyhGpAtaPMgDLmrYt9Qeq7M7PNdiRDqHv7XL4L6wr77PWRmkbmFK6Gen-8tDGSB_UFjO7skL75kZLfFzQ4COjktzk7YM6SbKz-t0oJx0mVeXHgHDs5WedH4oRBdDPJAIOlKWD5oRuQ/w394-h282/Paignton%20Pier.jpg" width="394" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyvl2JQTmrjGXRUf04F9C4jgrfryTMkD25Gapem3OvaEf3p67uVMa3a-zKMv2sLxjCE0WSpty9o13imaNWnhBQAx1qcS_-PdB7bYIp9EYDh91g4m2HB2fPfl6rOfhzXVqensA6W2VLTEVyOJyx2ayi91wZrxvY46bXZABtU5Z3EMwcfWoE8Ou_Zw/s3304/Paignton%20Preston%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2481" data-original-width="3304" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyvl2JQTmrjGXRUf04F9C4jgrfryTMkD25Gapem3OvaEf3p67uVMa3a-zKMv2sLxjCE0WSpty9o13imaNWnhBQAx1qcS_-PdB7bYIp9EYDh91g4m2HB2fPfl6rOfhzXVqensA6W2VLTEVyOJyx2ayi91wZrxvY46bXZABtU5Z3EMwcfWoE8Ou_Zw/w389-h292/Paignton%20Preston%202.jpg" width="389" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Clearly, I have little skill as a photographer, but Rob Ball
is highly skilled and also has the eye of an artist. He produced a wonderful photograph
in his recent collection entitled <i>Silent Coast</i> [5] that was referenced
by the <i>Financial Times </i>Magazine of 4th June 2022 (see below – the
associated text is worth reading).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48aHthQl6eSMpfviT14QGimTkUJmVqcrfojlo73zfoQuyypDwcEvH-1-dsT5kfvgVbZXb-_NNnpu_50W8e-QBjTtI5VISMU9oKWUIpqfA5AyjANDhXn6ixW7avg52BXQ2o0vdVPq8cWZaC-cu2434MIZGeVNKwYtzfxiO4HnUFtjmX9ACL91F4g/s3146/Rob%20Ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3146" data-original-width="2453" height="591" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48aHthQl6eSMpfviT14QGimTkUJmVqcrfojlo73zfoQuyypDwcEvH-1-dsT5kfvgVbZXb-_NNnpu_50W8e-QBjTtI5VISMU9oKWUIpqfA5AyjANDhXn6ixW7avg52BXQ2o0vdVPq8cWZaC-cu2434MIZGeVNKwYtzfxiO4HnUFtjmX9ACL91F4g/w461-h591/Rob%20Ball.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><o:p> </o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">This image is not from Paignton, of course, but Rob’s photograph
conjures up the ghostly feeling that seaside resorts can create out of season. There
is no-one to be seen, yet everything that provides entertainment is still
there, but locked up. In looking at the image, one remembers the noise of excited
children running around in bathing costumes, the warmth of the balmy air, the
thrill of slides (especially water slides), etc.. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are not only changes in types of visitors and their
means of getting to the resorts of Torbay at different times of the year as there
are also changes in topography. For example, the magnificent view of the coast
from Babbacombe has been altered by the cliff fall at Oddicombe (see images below),
where saturated sandstones fractured at weak points and then slid down. A
different form of erosion comes in the effect of tides and waves that attack
coastal defences and have severed some coastal paths that linked adjacent
coves. Storms and tidal surges have also affected the railway lines that run to
Torquay and Paignton through Dawlish, where landslips and breaches are familiar
to both contemporary residents and those that are interests in transport
history. These are decadal, rather than seasonal, changes, but what of Paignton
in earlier times? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7s34rDUp-0Vs1qyBqqHV-9hH-AkkU78L53rjMIuUVqGBqu3x7liPbi56eu-RGyxyYOq1GnguM8Tp7XVRDLMe3yLD8XcnXVNJIxgqsafQvfxsG6AQaTRh-SI9dBvWNFDFhBSS7GzylIrNXrg8raJsB5tUi2bp377xvCv1o4gZWcEJfFP5R4L7i1g/s3839/Oddicombe%20and%20petitor%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1989" data-original-width="3839" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7s34rDUp-0Vs1qyBqqHV-9hH-AkkU78L53rjMIuUVqGBqu3x7liPbi56eu-RGyxyYOq1GnguM8Tp7XVRDLMe3yLD8XcnXVNJIxgqsafQvfxsG6AQaTRh-SI9dBvWNFDFhBSS7GzylIrNXrg8raJsB5tUi2bp377xvCv1o4gZWcEJfFP5R4L7i1g/w508-h264/Oddicombe%20and%20petitor%203.jpg" width="508" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislWk5glxtLcBAW5yLi2QLLi7sIfreGbUxdyDUIYXHtDLAIh6EVDqg2eL9NXfzwxJSonkJj3KVZwmj2959OIzdERAcb8XOeDTB7BCqdTj0jGRzxPQdV1KslOtTS0VoH5H8N3oCWUt2FgnOvCbSp9jUhtVRP9kkPdkru0u4jGyKa5YfSfiOe3_mEw/s3295/Oddicombe%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2580" data-original-width="3295" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislWk5glxtLcBAW5yLi2QLLi7sIfreGbUxdyDUIYXHtDLAIh6EVDqg2eL9NXfzwxJSonkJj3KVZwmj2959OIzdERAcb8XOeDTB7BCqdTj0jGRzxPQdV1KslOtTS0VoH5H8N3oCWUt2FgnOvCbSp9jUhtVRP9kkPdkru0u4jGyKa5YfSfiOe3_mEw/w509-h398/Oddicombe%203.jpg" width="509" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Before it became a resort, the town was renowned for its
production of vegetables and it was a centre for cider making. There were also
“Paignton cockles” and other shellfish, and fish, to collect and that reminds
us of the other, non-human, residents of the shores of Torbay, well-known to
those residents and holidaymakers that enjoy rock pooling and similar
activities. There are many types of seaweeds, snails and barnacles and these
show different levels of tolerance to drying, with some found higher up the
shore than others and some never uncovered by the sea, even at low spring tides that occur every two weeks or so. Of course, tides are
familiar to holidaymakers, as the sea creeps up the beach as the tide comes in
twice each day, reducing the available space on the sand and creating a
Canute-style adventure for children who have defences around their sand
castles. Very few visitors and residents think of the effect of tides on other
shore life. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The presence of the beach for sunbathing and swimming is
something we take for granted and, apart from the various erosional events, is
little changed within our lifetime. However, if we go back tens of thousands of
years to the time of the last Ice Age, the coast was way to the east of where
it is now and Torbay was part of a lowland forest. We would recognise some
features, like headlands and hilly peaks, but we would certainly not recognise
the coast as it was then; increase in sea level at the time of the melting of
the northern ice cap giving us the outline of the shore that we have today. If
we look into the future, it seems certain that sea level rise resulting from
global warming will cause local inundations and, without increased sea defences,
the coastline will be inland of its current position. I wonder what it will be
like and what kinds of visitors it will attract? </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] John Pike (1987) <i>Iron Horse to the Sea: Railways in
South Devon</i>. Bradford on Aven. Ex-Libris Press. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] Anon (1863) <i>Bradshaw’s Descriptive Railway Hand-book
of Great Britain and Ireland</i>. London, W.J.Adams. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] David StJohn Thomas and Simon Rocksborough Smith (1973) <i>Summer
Saturdays in the West</i>. Newton Abbot, David & Charles. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] <a href="https://www.robball.co.uk/">https://www.robball.co.uk/</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p><p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-69248331489780131632022-06-22T08:28:00.000-07:002022-06-22T08:28:28.414-07:00Evangelical Christianity: reflections on the views of George Eliot, George Henry Lewes and Philip Henry Gosse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PMJ-SYT-7V9YDh3G4-Ns41APLziummliYvDuL1DuhM5_7zcjn4SmDB0M_Ditjs6CHlxT675Uhhx3vRLPmdM9bLQCymPPVkQyyXfaFRs3L3TPXFc0tr1ro3WN6hYc6Uh-YbPzGg-sRFEL_l-DbK4enii-kI0HphAVjdVWr4CkHZZ7ccsLJ9eMUQ/s397/George%20Eliot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="397" data-original-width="290" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PMJ-SYT-7V9YDh3G4-Ns41APLziummliYvDuL1DuhM5_7zcjn4SmDB0M_Ditjs6CHlxT675Uhhx3vRLPmdM9bLQCymPPVkQyyXfaFRs3L3TPXFc0tr1ro3WN6hYc6Uh-YbPzGg-sRFEL_l-DbK4enii-kI0HphAVjdVWr4CkHZZ7ccsLJ9eMUQ/w279-h381/George%20Eliot.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Evangelical Christians play important roles in George
Eliot’s first two novels: <i>Scenes of Clerical Life</i> (really three separate
novellas in one volume) and <i>Adam Bede</i>. As is well known, George Eliot (see
above) was the pen name of Marian (earlier Mary Ann, or Mary Anne) Evans and
her interest in evangelical Christianity came from when she attended schools in
Nuneaton and Coventry. In her Introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics
edition of <i>Scenes of Clerical Life</i>, Josie Billington writes [1]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">As an adolescent, coming of age in
just the period – the 1830s – she writes of in <i>Scenes</i>, Mary Anne Evans
was swept up in the religious current of Evangelicalism.. ..If the Oxford
Movement sought to turn back the legacy of the Reformation, Evangelicalism
sought to complete what the Reformation had begun, expunging the ceremony and
sacrament which were the remaining formal vestiges of Roman Catholicism and rediscovering
the vital puritan impulses of original Protestantism.. ..Evangelicalism offered
a belief that was hard and uncompromising, yet passionately earnest and
totalizing, which in the first half of the nineteenth century had a profound
impact not just on the rural towns of England, but on the nation’s cultural and
intellectual life in general. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Never fully committed to evangelical Christianity, Marian
went on to reject it, while retaining sympathies for the “good side” of some of
those who believed wholeheartedly in this approach. Her views are discussed in
an essay by Donald C. Masters [2]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">While George Eliot (1819-1880)
came to dislike the Evangelical viewpoint, her treatment of Evangelicals, particularly
in her early novels, was much more sympathetic than that of other Victorian
novelists.. ..Like many other disillusioned Christians she retained her belief
in the Christian ethic. She liked the Evangelicals in spite of their doctrines
and what she regarded as their naïveté and narrowness, because they made people
better.. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">..Her early letters.. ..suggest
that her acceptance of Evangelical principles was merely an intellectual
process. She never made the complete personal commitment that is the secret and
core of the Evangelical position.. ..She had lost faith in the Bible, the
essential basis of the Evangelical tradition and described it.. ..as “histories
consisting of mangled truth and fiction.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Many of us who have encountered evangelical Christianity, and
subsequently turned away from it without making “the commitment”, can recognise
George Eliot’s feelings. I have described my own experience [3]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">My last contact
with formal Christianity came at Torquay Boys’ Grammar School, where I went to
meetings of the Christian Union, in which my elder brother was a leader. We sat
around a table and listened to speakers, or to tapes of Billy Graham preaching.
We also had prayer meetings when we all had to take part. Prayers were for the
usual things connected with our salvation but, being a school, we also prayed
for masters who were Christian, to boost their religious, as well as their
educational, mission. I always dreaded prayer meetings and was not comfortable
at any of the other meetings either. Unlike some of those present, I found
Billy Graham strange and rather too energetic, and neither could I summon up
much enthusiasm for a guest speaker who spent many minutes propounding the
correct pronunciation of Bethphage. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">There were tracts
for us to hand out in the school, delivered in bulk from the Evangelical Tract
Society.. ..I couldn’t hand out such things and had quite a collection by the
time I stopped attending the Christian Union. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is not difficult, then, to see how personal experience of
religious groups affects one’s reading of George Eliot’s novels. Like Marian, I
rejected the thinking of evangelical Christians (on many grounds) and, like
her, try to see their good human qualities, although I worry about their
tendency to proselytise to those going through hard times. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLg1EknNq5nOJAkHSPJzDMGeSgfzBfSk7YJN_VZ3zQhHwnm8VkJIop3Ico_YT02HfjVgpkmknyxOJCkXK27f8XZjKojeoO5vHqMih36P6jBVJKRJrMc9O-t3HWGrVRlC678BpSfEcXbA0qA5dsRH5iZLbtqtHm6n93ll1ep-hB5peY5hRIWL0F8A/s454/George%20Henry%20Lewes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="321" height="439" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLg1EknNq5nOJAkHSPJzDMGeSgfzBfSk7YJN_VZ3zQhHwnm8VkJIop3Ico_YT02HfjVgpkmknyxOJCkXK27f8XZjKojeoO5vHqMih36P6jBVJKRJrMc9O-t3HWGrVRlC678BpSfEcXbA0qA5dsRH5iZLbtqtHm6n93ll1ep-hB5peY5hRIWL0F8A/w310-h439/George%20Henry%20Lewes.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">In addition to Evangelicals, another feature of George
Eliot’s novels is the presence of young children, often described in detail and
forming important threads to the various storylines. Marian loved children, but
she was unable to have any of her own. The reason was not biological, as far as
I know, more that she didn’t marry until she was in her sixties and spent most
of her adult life living with George Henry Lewes (see above), who was already
married and had children. If “living in sin” was bad enough in the eyes of many
in Victorian society, having children while in such a relationship would be
viewed very severely indeed. Certainly, Marian’s cohabitation with Lewes caused
much pain to her upright family and this, in turn, was the source of much
sadness to her. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The couple had a very close relationship, with Marian
depending on George for reassurance and advice. He was from a theatrical family
and both acted in, and wrote, plays: he also wrote novels, was an expert on
Goethe, published an outstanding review of philosophy through the ages, contributed
to many leading artistic journals, and was also what we would now call a
networker [4]. Although unprepossessing in appearance (some called him ugly),
he was popular for his conversation and energy and he knew many of the movers
and shakers in Victorian literary society. He was one himself. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lewes met Marian through John Chapman, the publisher of the <i>Westminster
Review</i> [5]. Chapman was a “free-thinker” and Marian lived in his household,
where relationships between Mr and Mrs Chapman, their governess, and Marian
were complicated. In Ashton’s account [5] we read that Chapman “visited Marian
Evans’ room, where she played the piano for him and taught him German.” It was
all too much for Mrs Chapman and Marian left the household, but returned in
1851 when Chapman asked her back to help him as part of the editorial team on
the <i>Review</i>, where her “sharp brain, wide knowledge, willing labour, and
ability to deal tactfully yet firmly with touchy contributors” [5] was invaluable. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During 1852, Marian was spending much time with Herbert
Spencer, the philosopher and biologist to whom she had been introduced by
Chapman, and they “were so often in one another’s company that ‘all the world
is setting us down as engaged’, Marian would have liked nothing better, but
Spencer was less keen.” [5] The result was that, in 1853, Lewes replaced Spencer
in her affections and this was the start of a deep relationship that only ended
with Lewes’ death. He was a great support to Marian and advised her during her
first, tentative steps as a novelist and he played the same role after she had
become famous and was being hailed as a very significant writer. Marian had
come a long way from those evangelical Christian schooldays in Warwickshire and
Lewes had also progressed in his interests. Like his hero Goethe, he then became
interested in practical science. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the early years of his relationship with Marian, Lewes
had been chided by T.H.Huxley as a “’mere’ book scientist ‘without the
discipline and knowledge which result from being a worker also’”. This came
after a review that Lewes had written and it perhaps inspired him to join the
Victorian craze for the study of marine natural history. The leading figure in
popularising this interest was Philip Henry Gosse, who had written <i>A Naturalist’s
Rambles on the Devonshire Coast</i> (1853, centred on Torquay and Ilfracombe), <i>The
Aquarium</i> (1854) and <i>Tenby</i> (published in March 1856, centred on the
Welsh seaside town). Lewes read all these books and, in the summer of 1856, he
and Marian left for Ilfracombe (where they befriended another enthusiast, Mr
Tugwell, the curate of Ilfracombe) and then Tenby; following this with visits
to the Scilly Isles and Jersey in spring and early summer of 1857. It was
during the first section of this marine shore adventure that the pair discussed
the possibility of Marian’s writing a novel. <i>The Sad Fortunes of the Rev
Amos Barton</i> was commenced in the autumn of 1856 and became the first part
of <i>Scenes of Clerical Life</i> published, anonymously, in instalments in <i>Blackwood’s
Magazine</i> through 1857 and as a book in two volumes in 1858. She was not an enthusiast
for studying shore life, so Lewes’ avid work on the coast allowed Marian time
to think about the content of her embryo novel. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lewes’ work was published in instalments in Blackwood’s Magazine
through 1856/7 and came out in book form, published by Blackwood and Sons and dedicated
to Richard Owen, as <i>Sea-side Studies</i> in 1858. In the preface, Lewes pays
homage to Huxley (perhaps the latter’s comment stung?) and there are frequent
references to Gosse throughout the book. Both men showed a particular interest
in sea anemones and, indeed they had a dispute over one aspect of the biology
of some of these animals [6]. It is interesting to make a comparison of the two
men. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkMN6pugMnCnolLBZ-m2GulNvapJQTJOhIRPlzIfAGxe5UA1lBC2x8oTbDYpdL14zUgc-vijH2mQw3BmTif0RjBd9GaxcdZVJNiLqgo6cl5VjLR_x6YiRJbYRx-v8mUJFcHMJSiP_X1fVnWvmzw3Hq6I_k8tstBC-jCRRcY6ytcGAf-UxvUxdfw/s315/PHG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="201" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkMN6pugMnCnolLBZ-m2GulNvapJQTJOhIRPlzIfAGxe5UA1lBC2x8oTbDYpdL14zUgc-vijH2mQw3BmTif0RjBd9GaxcdZVJNiLqgo6cl5VjLR_x6YiRJbYRx-v8mUJFcHMJSiP_X1fVnWvmzw3Hq6I_k8tstBC-jCRRcY6ytcGAf-UxvUxdfw/w275-h431/PHG.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Whereas Lewes was a free-thinking agnostic (if he must be
classified), Philip Henry Gosse (above) was a strict believer in the literal
truth of the Bible [3] and an evangelical Christian. In 1857 he moved to St
Marychurch in Torquay after the death of his wife Emily, who had accompanied
him to Torquay, Ilfracombe and Tenby on the collecting trips that resulted in
his earlier books. Emily was a writer of religious tracts (like those I failed
to hand out during my school days) and as deeply committed as her husband to
evangelical Christianity. Her painful death, leaving Henry Gosse with his young
son Edmund (later Sir Edmund), was the main reason that he decided to move. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At the time of the move to Torquay, he was expecting high
sales of his book <i>Omphalos</i>, that was to be published in late autumn
1857, and he was looking forward to the attention that it would bring. Although
there are many references to God and Creation in Henry’s books, <i>Omphalos</i>
saw him tackle head-on the conflict between the Biblical Creation and the idea
of geological time scales, that were becoming accepted by the mid-1850s. It is
subtitled “an attempt to untie the geological knot” and it was Henry’s attempt
to ease an obvious conflict: his idea being that rock strata and fossils were
all created over the short period of the Biblical Creation. In <i>Omphalos</i>,
he showed a thorough knowledge of geology and palaeontology and knew that large
time periods were involved, but clung to his odd theory, for which he was duly
mocked. Through all the difficulties of 1857, Henry didn’t question his
beliefs; rather he became even more ensconced in evangelical Christianity. He
reduced his attendance at meetings of the learned societies and didn’t have
much personal contact with members the scientific community, although he had
correspondence with many people, including Darwin. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are many that still adhere to the Creationist views
shown by Henry Gosse, although they make little attempt to provide a rational
explanation to account for the differences between their views and those of the
scientific community. At least Henry made an attempt, even if his explanation
was unacceptable to both scientists and believers; Charles Kingsley, for
example, chastised Gosse for suggesting the God appears to be telling lies [3].
It seems that evangelical Christians who believe in the literal truth of the
Bible have the opinion that there can be no opposition to their view and cannot
tolerate any other explanations. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lewes took a very different approach, as described by David Williams
[4]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">He thinks, or at any rate he
wishes, that the scientific explorers and the religious no-compromise men.. ..
can be brought together to ‘sit round a table’, as we put it, that Huxley and
Darwin can amicably confer with the tractarians and the Evangelicals and come
out of the room with a formula acceptable to both sides. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There has been movement among some evangelical Christians
and we are all familiar with the little car badge of a fish with limbs, bearing
the word “Darwin” at its centre. Perhaps the only major difference for many is
whether there was a Creator, or whether all that we see around us is the result
of chance events. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After the adverse comments about <i>Omphalos</i>, Henry
Gosse spent much time collecting marine creatures from the shores of South
Devon [3]. He was in the throes of producing his major monograph on sea
anemones, that was to be a standard work on these animals for many years and is
still consulted today. It contains brilliant illustrations, as Gosse was a very
capable artist in watercolours [7]. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In a letter sent to Tugwell in November 1856, Lewes writes [8]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">It would be a pleasant thing for
you to write the monograph on Actinae with W. Thompson; & as to the money,
you can’t expect much from such labour, but may consider yourself lucky to be
free of expense. At the same time you have a formidable rival in Gosse, who is
I believe engaged on a monograph. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This shows Lewes’ respect for Gosse as an expert in sea
anemones, but in a later letter to Hutton on 5th May 1859 we read [8]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Gosse’s book is too poor for a
review; & I have long been making notes of the history I shall sketch which
will I hope be far more entertaining than a review. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I assume that Lewes is referring here to <i>Omphalos</i>, as
<i>Actinologica Britannica</i> appeared in book form in 1860, having previously
been published in twelve parts from 1858-1860 [9]. Despite their disagreement
over some points [6], Lewes clearly respected Gosse as a natural historian. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We know that Lewes and Marian visited Torquay in 1868 and,
while the former continued with dissections for a future publication, Marian
was preparing ideas for <i>Middlemarch</i> and it is possible that there were some
indirect references to Torquay in that book [10]. We also learn that Marian and
Lewes enjoyed walks at Babbacombe, adjacent to St Marychurch [10], and one
wonders whether they called on Gosse, or encountered him while walking. I
cannot find reference to a meeting and would be intrigued to know how it might
have gone and what Marian would have made of this evangelical Christian and a
man who was not afraid of proselytising. The urge to spread the Gospel came through
in many of Henry Gosse’s books, but rarely with the intensity of the
extraordinary conclusion of <i>A Year at the Shore</i>, published in 1865,
three years before George and Marian arrived in Torquay [11]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;">I cannot conclude
this volume without recording my solemn and deliberate protest against the
infidelity with which, to a very painful extent, modern physical science is
associated. I allude not only to the ground which the conclusions of modern
geologists take, in opposition to the veracity of the “God which cannot lie,”
though the distinct statements which He has made to us concerning Creation are
now, as if by common consent, put aside, with silent contempt, as effete
fables, unworthy of a moment’s thought, and this too before vast assemblages of
persons, not one of whom lifts his voice for the truth of God. These assaults
are at least open and unmasked. But there is in our scientific literature, and
specially in that which takes a popular form, a tone equally dangerous and more
insidious. It altogether ignores the awful truths of God’s revelation, that all
mankind are guilty and condemned and spiritually dead in Adam; that we are by
nature children of wrath; that the whole world lieth in the wicked one; and
that the wrath of God abideth on it: it ignores the glorious facts of atonement
by the precious blood of Christ, and of acceptance in Him. It substitutes for
these a mere sentimental admiration of nature, and teaches that the love of the
beautiful makes man acceptable to God, and secures His favour. How often do we
see quoted and be-praised, as if it were an indisputable axiom, the sentiment
of a poet who ought to have known better,–<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;">“He prayeth best who
loveth best<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;">All things, both
great and small;” –<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 1.0cm; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 19.85pt;">a sentiment as silly
as it is unscriptural; for what connexion can there be between the love of the
inferior creatures, and the acceptableness of a sinner praying to the Holy God?
It is the intervention of Christ Jesus, the anointed Priest, which alone gives
prayer acceptance… There is no sentimental or scientific road to heaven. There
is absolutely nothing in the study of created things, however single, however
intense, which will admit sinful man into the presence of God, or fit him to
enjoy it. If there were, what need was there that the glorious Son, the
everlasting Word, should be made flesh, and give His life a ransom for many? …
If I have come to God as a guilty sinner, and have found acceptance, and
reconciliation, and sonship, in the blood of His only-begotten Son, then I may
come down from that elevation, and study creation with advantage and profit;
but to attempt to scale heaven with the ladder of natural history, is nothing
else than Cain's religion; it is the presentation of the fruit of the earth,
instead of the blood of the Lamb … This will be, in all probability, the last
occasion of my coming in literary guise before the public: how can I better
take my leave than with the solemn testimony of the Spirit of God, which I
affectionately commend to my readers, – … THERE IS NO WAY INTO THE HOLIEST BUT
BY THE BLOOD OF JESUS. FINIS. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 19.85pt;">Henry Gosse was not only a proselytising
evangelical Christian, but the leader of his group of Brethren in St
Marychurch. He thus retreated into his own support group and this made it increasingly
difficult for him to accept any religious views other than those he supported.
It was religious differences, and the views of Henry on who one should have as
friends, that was the basis of the conflict with his son, Edmund, described
(with some elaboration?) in the latter’s famous book <i>Father and Son</i> [12].
This volume, more than any other work, has shaped our view of Henry [3], a pity
as, if one could find a way of negotiating the religious hurdle, with all its
side effects, he was a very nice man and would certainly be good company on
rambles or on the shore. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 19.85pt;">As we have seen, Marian Evans and
Geoge Lewes were more accepting of those with religious differences and the
former certainly recognised these human sides of evangelical Christians,
although she was aware of their dogmatism and inflexibility. I think they would
have enjoyed meeting Gosse, but what would Henry make of them? He would balk at
their lack of faith in his version of Christianity and he would also strongly
disapprove of their relationship. Henry did re-marry after the tragic death of
Emily and his second wife, Eliza, while also being a member of the Brethren
appeared to be a little more flexible in her approach to Edmund’s “sinfulness”
than was his father. Edmund was also helped in his relationship with his father
by his wife, the painter Nellie Epps, whom I have described as a “Nineteenth
Century Wonder Woman” [13]. Nellie’s sister, Laura Alma-Tadema drew a profile
of Marian in 1877 [14] and it would be amusing to know what the artist felt
about her sitter and what views she shared with the Gosse family. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Josie Billington (1988) Introduction to George Eliot’s <i>Scenes
of Clerical Life</i>. Oxford, Oxford University Press World’s Classics. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] Donald C. Masters (1962) George Eliot and the
Evangelicals. <i>The Dalhousie Review</i> 41: 505-512. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] David Williams (1983) <i>Mr George Eliot: A Biography of
George Henry Lewes</i>. London, Hodder and Stoughton. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Rosemary Ashton (2008) <i>Lewes, George Henry
(1817-1878)</i>. <a href="https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/16562">https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/16562</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-human-side-of-science.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-human-side-of-science.html</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/04/stunning-biological-illustrations.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/04/stunning-biological-illustrations.html</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[8] William Baker (ed.) (1995) <i>The Letters of George
Henry Lewes Volume</i> 1. Victoria, Canada, ELS Editions. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[9] R.B.Freeman and Douglas Wetheimer (1980) <i>Philip Henry
Gosse: A Bibliography</i>. Folkestone, Wm. Dawon & Sons. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[10] Kathleen McCormack (2005) <i>George Eliot’s English
Travels: Composite characters and coded communications</i>. Abingdon,
Routledge. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[11] Philip Henry Gosse (1865) <i>A Year at the Shore</i>.
London, Alexander Strahan. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[12] Edmund Gosse (1907) <i>Father and Son: A Study of Two
Temperaments</i>. London, William Heinemann Ltd. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[13] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/08/nellie-epps-nineteenth-century-wonder.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/08/nellie-epps-nineteenth-century-wonder.html</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[14] <a href="https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw01628">https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw01628</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-89351899930104849332022-05-27T06:29:00.000-07:002022-05-27T06:29:30.808-07:00School classmates with famous parents<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_jya9RP_I2uApK56rgADxL1ekpg_3M-DRgT3daRrl5ph4qa4oZ1aHT6S-Jeu_gcyXDnX-lueMIfWvi3u8kZf6Iuy5nMLLl1k6RDXXKR3Livv_KbVL4Rr82NSH0ThHVb85F7WsrCESSo7sX720se6u1lV5bo2EzVyfnHXdkMn7YxMkZW5_bkSzg/s866/Myrtle%20+%20Les.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="866" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_jya9RP_I2uApK56rgADxL1ekpg_3M-DRgT3daRrl5ph4qa4oZ1aHT6S-Jeu_gcyXDnX-lueMIfWvi3u8kZf6Iuy5nMLLl1k6RDXXKR3Livv_KbVL4Rr82NSH0ThHVb85F7WsrCESSo7sX720se6u1lV5bo2EzVyfnHXdkMn7YxMkZW5_bkSzg/w510-h290/Myrtle%20+%20Les.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">At Oldway Primary School in Paignton, I had three classmates
who had famous parents: Jennifer was the daughter of Myrtle Devenish [1] (above
left, in later years); Geoff was the son of Arnie Kitson [2] (no image found!);
and Diane was the daughter of Leslie Jackman [3] (above right, in later years).</p><p class="MsoNormal">I knew that Mrs Devenish was an actress, but didn’t know any
roles she had taken, or seen any of her performances, but just being an actress
was enough to be famous in my very limited world. In contrast to Myrtle, I had
heard Arnie Kitson play his xylophone on radio broadcasts and he also taught
Geoff the instrument – the latter making an appearance on “The Children’s
Television Caravan”, a touring TV show that came to Paignton. I guess that Arnie,
who came originally from Yorkshire, learned his craft in the music halls and I
heard him play the xylophone on enough occasions to recognise his skill.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Leslie Jackman was a local schoolteacher who also ran
Paignton Aquarium [4]. A keen naturalist, Leslie published many books about
seashore life, insects, and much else and he also became a well-known natural
history film-maker. He worked on the BBC “Out of Doors” TV programme where he
occupied the Club Room and encouraged many children to look in pools, to make
bark rubbings, or to try and find egg shells dropped from nests. Much of Leslie’s
work, like that of Myrtle Devenish, came after I had left Oldway Primary School,
but he was already well-known and therefore qualified as someone famous. In <i>Walking
with Gosse</i> [5], I relate that my pressed flower collection was given second
place in a competition at the school; first prize being given to Diane, as she
had such an excellent mentor. Leslie (always Mr Jackman to me) certainly
influenced me and I recognise his importance in my development as a natural
historian.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, three indirect contacts with fame (I only met Mrs
Devenish on a couple of occasions, I never met Mr Kitson, and was yet to meet
Mr Jackman). All on a rather small scale, perhaps, but nevertheless something
that registered in my parochial little world.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are those who are desperate to be nationally, or world,
famous, and contemporary media can make it possible for web “influencers”, pop
stars, and reality TV show participants to achieve this goal. Unfortunately, fame and recognition are
rarely long-term, although there are exceptions to that general rule: A-listers
are likely to stay there, but B-listers can slide to the C-list and onwards into
oblivion.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In his book <i>Fame in the 20th Century</i>, Clive James
writes [6]:</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">There was always fame. As long as
there have been human beings, there has always been fame. It’s a human
weakness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He then goes on to describe 406 famous men and women of the
century (plus 5 from earlier times) and I only had to look up one of them, the
rest being familiar to me. As would be expected, most came from the world of
Entertainment and the Arts; areas, together with sport, that can produce
enduring fame, although famous sportspeople are usually young, as their careers
taper with age. That’s not to say that some sportsmen and sportswomen do not
retain their fame, as there are those who become “legends” in popular
parlance. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This leads me to wonder whether fame was important to Myrtle
Devenish, Arnie Kitson and Leslie Jackman? We all appreciate recognition of our
activities and we like “pats on the back”, but is the quest for fame a human
weakness as Clive James suggests and does it bring any meaningful benefits
apart from wealth and the best tables in restaurants? There are certainly drawbacks,
as one moves further and further from what might be called normality. Many
famous people feel threatened, they can fear lack of recognition, be besieged
and stared at wherever they go, and may have to hide behind a mask. Who wants
to be famous?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0222318/">https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0222318/</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://genome.ch.bbc.co.uk/c29bb3108f3146798780d5077445a9d3">https://genome.ch.bbc.co.uk/c29bb3108f3146798780d5077445a9d3</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.jukolart.us/wildlife-filmmaking/leslie-jackman.html">https://www.jukolart.us/wildlife-filmmaking/leslie-jackman.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2020/12/leslie-jackmans-marine-aquaria_22.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2020/12/leslie-jackmans-marine-aquaria_22.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] Clive James (1993) <i>Fame in the 20th Century</i>.
London, BBC Books.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-18949906479411392392022-04-22T02:14:00.000-07:002022-04-22T02:14:24.254-07:00Homage to the Torbay Express<p>Growing up in South Devon, I appreciated how lucky I was to
be able to walk around the coast and through country lanes, lined by deep
hedges, to woods and meadows with abundant wild flowers. Solitary walks were a
source of solace from unhappy times and they also enabled me to recognise the
importance of the natural world; something that has stayed with me ever since.
It influenced my choice of subjects to study in the Sixth Form at school and
then at university, and, although I could be called a scientist, I prefer to
think of myself as a natural historian, as physical sciences are still a bit of
a mystery to me and the study of biosciences is now dominated by one animal,
rather than the wide range of animals, plants and micro-organisms that make up
most of the natural world.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My other passion as a boy was trainspotting [1] and we were
lucky in having a large number of trains bringing visitors to Torbay,
especially on summer Saturdays. One train stood out: this was the Torbay
Express that ran daily from Paddington to Kingswear and I looked on it with
both admiration and envy; the former coming from the condition of whichever Castle
Class locomotive pulled the train in the 1950s, and envy because I felt
that there was no chance of me travelling on anything so prestigious. The
Torbay Express was second only to the Cornish Riviera Express (called the
Reveera by us) that didn’t come along our line and, as its name suggests, went
to Plymouth and then on to Cornwall. Like “The Torbay”, it was not a train used
much by holidaymakers; more by those in business and similar occupations, or by
those who preferred smart, and rapid, travel.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Torbay Express was originally called the Torbay Limited
and ran on the GWR’s direct line through Berkshire, Wiltshire and Somerset,
rather than on the earlier main line through Bristol. After Taunton, the line
climbed to Whiteball tunnel and then entered Devonshire (an image of the express
at this point is shown below, together with one of the train entering Exeter,
where it made its first stop in the 1950s).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2D4z37LddDxacEmK_W_zqbOjVxnEV--_Lhwofnz4kYTqQRtrpHPe3CY3Ah_-xIfBXFKXz8LWz09Oxh37mQwR8aNJTqk-gOcREPFL_pVwn30ZrEJVNkCfqbmqGlyPobewgsH72PXp-Ru_xu1P4TLLG046nryvzUUgH3bmob9_-IxLCaWHGiDnpXA/s3351/TE%20RJBlenkinsop%201954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2536" data-original-width="3351" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2D4z37LddDxacEmK_W_zqbOjVxnEV--_Lhwofnz4kYTqQRtrpHPe3CY3Ah_-xIfBXFKXz8LWz09Oxh37mQwR8aNJTqk-gOcREPFL_pVwn30ZrEJVNkCfqbmqGlyPobewgsH72PXp-Ru_xu1P4TLLG046nryvzUUgH3bmob9_-IxLCaWHGiDnpXA/w402-h304/TE%20RJBlenkinsop%201954.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTdBqJmu65djNK4ShAC7gedhDp9Fa9ujrNDSAI1C5a2Lfe7IFdH7OrRylkXclFab0BI8IFaPIrcPvr_So6zS5DPmqZSXujKngXiWPfiRMfo3m3qqGcJ6Ou77qgMH_drSGtCJgHE_3LgorqFi-gs4n0FH2tab8ys9QX-jD5t15yvJmdanSdlng4Q/s2442/TE%20SCreer%201955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="2442" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTdBqJmu65djNK4ShAC7gedhDp9Fa9ujrNDSAI1C5a2Lfe7IFdH7OrRylkXclFab0BI8IFaPIrcPvr_So6zS5DPmqZSXujKngXiWPfiRMfo3m3qqGcJ6Ou77qgMH_drSGtCJgHE_3LgorqFi-gs4n0FH2tab8ys9QX-jD5t15yvJmdanSdlng4Q/w412-h194/TE%20SCreer%201955.jpg" width="412" /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>O.S.Nock [2] describes the journey on to Torbay: <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Emerging from the western end of
Parsons Tunnel [see image below] the coastwise prospect is completely changed and
extends to the rocky islets at the entrance to Tor Bay that we shall see at
closer range later. The red cliffs are higher than ever here though less dramatic
in their formation, but the sea wall, an invaluable protection for the railway
in winter, is a favourite promenade for the holiday-makers of Teignmouth,
whether they are railway enthusiasts or not.. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">..The line runs through the back
of Teignmouth town between high retaining walls, in Dartmoor granite, but
quickly enough on the left hand side there come delightful glimpses across the
harbour, boat yards, and the estuary of the River Teign, with the beautiful
little town of Shaldon beneath the high red cliff of the Ness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9DBUJoLeiq7Q0mRj8IhaOeBsYXDSnp4YkQhm4LaR8Xyxf7xRzYpPuN0Iz3FN6Gl0d9Key0NwtyBHlv5PQuaM4i0bxeS18uud_1zmdZD5t45q-AXzk6pO4Me-qQcTiIHrtb6W4Uy9J52XJjZg4gqJyLMv7sZf5Jfj2rU2q4r6YZpqBrngcVC4ISg/s1280/TE%20Ben%20Brooksbank%201954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="1280" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9DBUJoLeiq7Q0mRj8IhaOeBsYXDSnp4YkQhm4LaR8Xyxf7xRzYpPuN0Iz3FN6Gl0d9Key0NwtyBHlv5PQuaM4i0bxeS18uud_1zmdZD5t45q-AXzk6pO4Me-qQcTiIHrtb6W4Uy9J52XJjZg4gqJyLMv7sZf5Jfj2rU2q4r6YZpqBrngcVC4ISg/w384-h306/TE%20Ben%20Brooksbank%201954.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEWfuwIiCJuxBXyZUNNTs5-DBMKCTDKt_ULo9FBK8r4dOYjt1qwrDuWAv3Q7UsdChFOqYRffelZYMBTTd9D_LtU1wCcMHMJZ_EgC7tdO58LC3gI3vgFM8mRXoq9R3Ku0HrIE-vw4s2lLHtGo7AEMxivK5BQ5pVIKA9-D7eFVWriMKx7elZnrHtQ/s3478/TE%20RJBlenkinsop%201958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2341" data-original-width="3478" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEWfuwIiCJuxBXyZUNNTs5-DBMKCTDKt_ULo9FBK8r4dOYjt1qwrDuWAv3Q7UsdChFOqYRffelZYMBTTd9D_LtU1wCcMHMJZ_EgC7tdO58LC3gI3vgFM8mRXoq9R3Ku0HrIE-vw4s2lLHtGo7AEMxivK5BQ5pVIKA9-D7eFVWriMKx7elZnrHtQ/w386-h260/TE%20RJBlenkinsop%201958.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">The description by Nock continues after the Torbay Express
has run through Newton Abbot (see image above) and then on through
Kingskerswell and Torre to its next stop in Torquay: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">The present main station, by
Livermead Sands, is near enough to the beach for some enticing glimpses of the
waters of Tor Bay, and as the train starts away for the south, and negotiates
some sharp though short gradients the line comes right out above the beach [at
Hollicombe] and the full beauty of Torquay’s situation and its superb and
rugged coastline is displayed. At this stage in the journey the prospect is
soon cut off, by the houses of Paignton.. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">..On leaving Paignton, and
climbing on to the cliff edge beyond Goodrington Sands (see image below) the
wide panorama over the entire sweep of Tor Bay reveals some of its interesting
and complex geological features. The red sandstone cliffs of Dawlish and
Teignmouth recur at Paignton, in an even deeper shade of red, but at each end
of the bay, on the north side extending outwards from Torquay to Hope’s Nose,
and at the south beyond Brixham to Berry Head, the tattered and splintered rock
formations from “London Bridge” to the outlying Thatcher and Oar Stones, and Berry
Head itself are examples of carboniferous limestone, and provide such striking
and spectacular cliff structure as to cause at least one eminent geographer to
compare it with those of the Mediterranean Riviera resorts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAL1BiVDij9cH9dT2O3sAB7DsYj6rAZmZ3qWNR0u8sGIfB1bUlc_HSUyhl4tB9o91yu5tRJW3aNa7qa-lh7n1o4VnUg5n6kJFIFNfJZYiGC7R8rI77hmucZX9kWyzmRd037QdRt-Q4t8WqtbSNeKZTsD-OiBmj42v2o8MTuefUVFDWtKq3eo51g/s2490/TE%20DerekCross%20unknown%20date.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2490" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAL1BiVDij9cH9dT2O3sAB7DsYj6rAZmZ3qWNR0u8sGIfB1bUlc_HSUyhl4tB9o91yu5tRJW3aNa7qa-lh7n1o4VnUg5n6kJFIFNfJZYiGC7R8rI77hmucZX9kWyzmRd037QdRt-Q4t8WqtbSNeKZTsD-OiBmj42v2o8MTuefUVFDWtKq3eo51g/w421-h230/TE%20DerekCross%20unknown%20date.jpg" width="421" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Passing over the summit at Churston the express then ran
down to the beautiful Dart valley, skirting along the river bank to the terminus
at the small town of Kingswear at the mouth of the river. Remaining passengers
could then travel over to Dartmouth by ferry, the town having a railway station
but no railway lines (there were never any!). What a contrast it must have
seemed to London and its suburbs, and what a pleasure to be able to study the landscape
from a railway carriage as it passes down the line.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All this was for the passengers. Trainspotters could either
find a location where the express sped past or see it at Exeter, Torquay or
Paignton. There, the polished locomotive could be admired and one could take in
its metallic, oily and smoky smells after the rapid, and hard-working, journey
down from London. All very special memories and, as Nock points out in his descriptions
of the section of line through South Devon, a link between the wonders of steam
locomotives and the geology of the terrain through which the Torbay Express passed
at the end of its journey. Geology is part of natural history after all, but my
main interest in that subject did not involve distant views, rather in what plants
and animals could be seen first-hand on shores, or in hedgerows, and what could
be seen with a simple microscope.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I still like steam locomotives and, as my career has shown,
I have an abiding love of natural history. Both started when I was in a boy in
Torbay and I’m pleased that, in this regard at least, I have failed to grow up.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/07/memories-of-privet-in-torbay.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/07/memories-of-privet-in-torbay.html</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] O.S.Nock (1985) <i>Great British Trains: An evocation of
a memorable age in travel</i>. London, Pelham Books.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Photograph credits (in sequence) R.J.Blenkinsop; S.Creer;
Ben Brooksbank; R.J.Blenkinsop; and
Derek Cross.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-69370674110212080162022-04-01T06:12:00.000-07:002022-04-01T06:12:34.411-07:00The Tale of Tim and David<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yXJ5BPqf9kFZTPyRfAzswSEDzhOmdqG_CNRAtIWBD6Cg-dIPHZz2wciR6CKY6HRjfaT7FPrW06QA-xlS8j_dYnmt3obC9q3PRfsAl-2uAEgpyCdLB7Cp9dc-MzCTMLDrpgJmGtStoJSBdC4ZxQ-XRSrSVaxQs7P9bUI-QtXhUoSL3ca_OWnjvg/s2998/Harte%20&%20North.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2998" data-original-width="2276" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yXJ5BPqf9kFZTPyRfAzswSEDzhOmdqG_CNRAtIWBD6Cg-dIPHZz2wciR6CKY6HRjfaT7FPrW06QA-xlS8j_dYnmt3obC9q3PRfsAl-2uAEgpyCdLB7Cp9dc-MzCTMLDrpgJmGtStoJSBdC4ZxQ-XRSrSVaxQs7P9bUI-QtXhUoSL3ca_OWnjvg/w291-h383/Harte%20&%20North.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m very proud to have been a professor at UCL and I met
some wonderful people during my time there: students, academics, and support
staff. When one reads the history of the place in Harte and North’s <i>The
World of University College London 1828-1978</i> [1] (the
book has subsequently been updated), feelings are not just of pride, but also
of humility, as so many great academics have graced the college. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of the pleasures of working at UCL was being able to
pursue my interests in both research and teaching, but that also brought a
downside, for I was the only person in my department working in Aquatic Biology
and I was very grateful for the collaborations that I developed elsewhere in
the UK, in Sweden and in the USA. In the end, I realised that my time would
best be spent on scholarship, as well as in practical research, and I wrote several
reviews that cut across disciplines and sub-disciplines. This was good for me
and, I hope, for those wanting to break down barriers in Aquatic Biology, and I
am so grateful that I was allowed to do this unhindered. That work certainly
enhanced, and informed, my teaching. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During my time at UCL, changes in higher education were
occurring and the pressure to obtain research grants, high fee-paying overseas
students, etc. were uppermost. Universities were being run more and more on
business lines and, at UCL, there was a heavy stress on Medicine and
Biomedicine, as these were areas where funding was generous for many projects. UCL attracted many very able researchers in these disciplines. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was in the field of biomedical research where I feel a
bit confused and disappointed by the senior administrators at UCL and that
takes me on to the title of “The Tale of Tim and David”. Tim is Sir
Tim Hunt (a Nobel Laureate) and David is Professor David Latchman, now Master
of Birkbeck, University of London and described on his website [2] as “a
leading UK university academic, author, and philanthropist”. Let me begin by
referring to two pieces in <i>The Guardian </i>online. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These are selected comments from an article in 2015 about
Sir Tim, after he made a silly remark at a conference [3]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">As jokes go, Sir Tim Hunt’s brief
standup routine about women in science last week must rank as one of the
worst acts of academic self-harm in history. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">“I stood up and went mad,” he
admits. “I was very nervous and a bit confused but, yes, I made those remarks –
which were inexcusable – but I made them in a totally jocular, ironic way.
There was some polite applause and that was it, I thought. I thought everything
was OK. No one accused me of being a sexist pig.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Collins [Professor Mary Collins,
wife of Sir Tim and an eminent professor at UCL, Sir Tim being an honorary researcher
there] was called by University College London. “I was told by a senior that
Tim had to resign immediately or be sacked – though I was told it would be
treated as a low-key affair. Tim duly emailed his resignation when he got home.
The university promptly announced his resignation on its website and started tweeting
that they had got rid of him. Essentially they had hung both of us out to dry..
.. What they did was unacceptable.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is what was written in 2020 about David [4]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">David Latchman, professor of
genetics at University College London.. ..has angered senior academics by
presiding over a laboratory that published fraudulent research, mostly on
genetics and heart disease, for more than a decade. The number of fabricated
results and the length of time over which the deception took place made the
case one of the worst instances of research fraud uncovered in a British
university. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">..two investigations at UCL.. ..
were deeply critical of Latchman. Both found that his failure to run the lab
properly, and his position as author on many of the doctored papers, amounted to
“recklessness”, and upheld an allegation of research misconduct against him. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm;">Latchman no longer has a lab and
has stopped supervising research, but he is still a part-time professor of
human genetics at UCL, and master of Birkbeck. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have little more information than these two newspaper
stories and I am not in a position to make judgement, nor would I wish to, as I
do not have access to the details. However, I am struck by the difference in
the “transgressions” made by the two eminent scientists: one made a silly comment
and the other (apparently unknowingly) allowed the falsification of results in research.
While Sir Tim was cast out, David was allowed to continue in his post. Why? Was
it something to do with the philanthropy mentioned at the head of David’s
website? Did money, and lawyers, talk? All this happened after I left UCL in
2012, but it leaves a bad taste and I reflect on the tolerance, integrity and
collegiality of the college that I once knew well. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[I’ve never met Sir Tim Hunt, but I have met David Latchman
on a few occasions and found him pleasant, and informed, company. Professor
Mary Collins was my Dean at the end of my career at UCL.]</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Negley Harte and John North (1979) <i>The World of
University College London 1828-1978</i>. Portsmouth, Eyre & Spottiswoode </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <a href="https://davidlatchman.net/">https://davidlatchman.net/</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jun/13/tim-hunt-hung-out-to-dry-interview-mary-collins">https://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jun/13/tim-hunt-hung-out-to-dry-interview-mary-collins</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/education/2020/feb/01/david-latchman-geneticist-should-resign-over-his-team-science-fraud">https://www.theguardian.com/education/2020/feb/01/david-latchman-geneticist-should-resign-over-his-team-science-fraud</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-63407901823836191452022-03-24T02:55:00.012-07:002022-03-29T12:10:12.783-07:00Susan Bell – a little known, but significant, figure in the Nineteenth Century<p>Thomas Gosse was an artist, his son Philip Henry Gosse a
famous natural historian, his grandson Sir Edmund Gosse a noted literary
figure, and nephew Thomas Bell a professor and President of the Linnean
Society. Although we know much about these men, especially of Henry and Edmund,
their stories may have been different, and perhaps less well-known, if it was
not for Susan Bell and two other women: Emily Bowes and Nellie Epps.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Susan was the sister of Thomas Gosse and, according to
him, “of a more refined and cultivated mind than the rest” of his family [1].
Being 15 years older, she had a strong influence on Thomas and he writes in his
unpublished autobiography [2]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">I had always an inclination for
drawing.. ..I would often take a piece of chalk and draw the outlines of
various common and familiar objects on the wall or on the kitchen door. My
parents, witnessing my propensity as described, thought it would be useless to
bring me up to a common trade, and therefore were resolved at length to give it
encouragement. Accordingly, early in 1777 my school education was resigned for
the practice of drawing at home; and here my sister Susan, afterwards Mrs Bell,
became my tutoress. A drawing-book was bought for me, and another borrowed,
with other necessary items. Thus I went on learning by degrees the art of
drawing, in order that I might subsequently become a painter by profession.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From these beginnings, Thomas had instruction from various
experts and became a student at the Royal Academy in Somerset House, attending
classes and lectures, and he then became a pupil engraver. Armed with this
training, Thomas became an itinerant painter “not on paper but on ivory” [1] - a
painter specialising in miniatures. Thwaite [1] remarks: “He carried with him
little more than his Bible, his Theocritus and the tools of his trade, but he
was clothed with the armour of righteousness and stoicism.” </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3_qzfUA_B0ClJa5UJNgWw6WcOHaXNodI0LTBcgebUtV2RizKEV9l6qc-7aQ1qE7r-8wnzMa_W8i3Hbu2YSzyUSrOY6BKUpww-aJLyMWy56y5MO5drYRl2NWqP8X4iOr_SN6rrxBuJ_9Tw9nEln1mZUuzuusgJDRyU3HCBs83u5Jp-6F4Aka37g/s442/Poole.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="442" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3_qzfUA_B0ClJa5UJNgWw6WcOHaXNodI0LTBcgebUtV2RizKEV9l6qc-7aQ1qE7r-8wnzMa_W8i3Hbu2YSzyUSrOY6BKUpww-aJLyMWy56y5MO5drYRl2NWqP8X4iOr_SN6rrxBuJ_9Tw9nEln1mZUuzuusgJDRyU3HCBs83u5Jp-6F4Aka37g/w472-h307/Poole.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Henry Gosse, like his father, received instruction in
drawing from Susan and she also passed on to him her passion for natural history,
after he had moved, with his family, to Poole, where Susan lived (and seen
above in a near-contemporary view by Turner – her house is shown in [3]). She
had married Thomas Bell, a surgeon, and her son, also Thomas Bell, was born in
1792, so was 18 years older than Henry. Thomas went on to have a distinguished
career in both Zoology and Dentistry, being “responsible for innovations in the
use of various dental instruments and [he] was the first to treat teeth as
living structures by applying scientific surgery to dental disease” [4].
Thomas’ work in zoology focussed mainly on crustaceans, amphibians and reptiles,
and he was responsible for describing animals in the latter group that had been
collected on the voyage of HMS Beagle. In addition to his position as Professor
of Zoology at King’s College London, Thomas also served as President of the
Linnean Society and chaired the famous meeting on 1st July 1858, when papers by Charles
Darwin and Alfred Russell Wallace on the origin of species were presented (neither author being present).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Although on friendly terms with Darwin, Thomas Bell “remained
hostile to the theory of evolution throughout his life” [4], but further in the
piece by Cleevely [4], we read that: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">Darwin always regarded him as a
delightful, kind-hearted man, and believed that a more good-natured person did
not exist but that his overwhelming administrative roles and professional work
prevented him from achieving very much. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He was certainly invaluable to Henry Gosse, as it was Thomas Bell who introduced Henry to the publisher John Van Voorst, who accepted Henry’s first book <i>The Canadian Naturalist</i>. He also recommended Henry to be the author of books on natural history, then being planned by SPCK (The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge), and the income from Henry’s publications allowed him to begin his career as a writer, illustrator and lecturer.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Clearly then, Aunt Bell was both an important direct, and
also indirect, influence on Henry Gosse and his love of natural history. It
should also be noted that both Henry and Thomas were uncomfortable with the
idea of evolution by natural selection, and
this became acute for Henry who went on to publish <i>Omphalos</i>, his
“attempt to untie the geological knot.” The knot was the apparent conflict
between the increasingly accepted view that the evolution of plants and animals
occurred over long periods of time, and the description of Creation in the book
of Genesis in The Holy Bible. As Henry’s belief in biblical accounts was
absolute, he explained in <i>Omphalos</i> that rock strata and fossils, of
which he had an excellent knowledge, were created along with living organisms
within the six days of Creation. To him, they were “prochronic” and his theory
was revelatory to him – he really thought he had resolved the conflict. Very
few others agreed and the theory of prochronic existence met with derision in
some quarters and neither the scientific, or the religious, establishment could
accept Herny’s idea. This shook Henry, especially as he had ordered a long
print run, as he expected the book to be a big seller.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Omphalos</i> was published in 1857, the same year that Henry’s
wife Emily had died, painfully, from breast cancer, leaving him with the care
of their young son, Edmund. Henry and Edmund moved to Torquay just weeks before
<i>Omphalos</i> appeared and, writing in 1890, two years after Henry’s death, Edmund
suggested that [5]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1cm;">..it seems to me possible that if
my mother had lived, he might have been prevented from putting himself so
fatally and prominently into opposition to the new ideas. He might probably
have been content to have others to fight out the question on a philosophical
basis, and might himself have quietly continued observing facts, and noting his
observations with his early elegance and accuracy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is likely, therefore, that Emily could have persuaded Henry
not to write <i>Omphalos</i>. What is certain is that Emily and Henry shared a
profound Christian faith, while being different in personality. Edmund writes
[5] that “her mind was a singularly gay and cheerful one” and he believes that
she had a strong influence on Henry’s writing in books like <i>A Naturalist’s
Rambles on the Devonshire Coast</i> and <i>Tenby</i> that were both informative
and full of enthusiasm, leading his readers to explore natural history for
themselves. So, we not only owe a debt to Henry, but also to Emily and,
alongside Aunt Bell, she was a major influence on him.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As he grew up, Edmund became distanced from his father in
many ways, but especially over religious beliefs and practice, and their
relationship became difficult. Edmund married Nellie Epps, a painter who had
studied with the pre-Raphaelites, and she played an important role in maintaining contact between the two men. Nellie was much liked by Henry and his
second wife, Eliza, who was herself a warm supporter of all that Henry did.
Eliza also had a cordial relationship with Edmund, something that was
established when he was a boy.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Three outstanding, yet little known, women and I am pleased
to be able to add some notes about Aunt Bell to the earlier pieces that I wrote
on Emily [6] and Nellie [7], both of whom I admire very much [8]. We know a
great deal about Henry and Edmund Gosse, and a little about Thomas Gosse and Thomas
Bell, but all four were very lucky in having relations and/or partners who were
such a positive influence on those around them. I would like these women to
have their proper place in history.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] Ann Thwaite (2002) <i>Glimpses of the Wonderful: The
Life of Philip Henry Gosse 1810-1888</i>. London, Faber and Faber</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] Edmund Gosse (1915) Fragments of the Autobiography of
Thomas Gosse. <i>The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs</i> 27: 141-150</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <a href="https://www.wessexmuseums.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Pooles-early-naturalists-Gosse-and-Bell-final-1.pdf">https://www.wessexmuseums.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Pooles-early-naturalists-Gosse-and-Bell-final-1.pdf</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] R.J.Cleevely (2004) <i>Bell, Thomas (1792-1880)</i>. The
Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. <a href="https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/2029">https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/2029</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Edmund Gosse (1896) <i>The Naturalist of the Sea-Shore:
The Life of Philip Henry Gosse</i>. London, William Heinemann. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2013/10/emily-gosse-notable-evangelical.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2013/10/emily-gosse-notable-evangelical.html</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] <a href="https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/08/nellie-epps-nineteenth-century-wonder.html">https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/08/nellie-epps-nineteenth-century-wonder.html</a> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[8] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts</i>. e-book, available widely.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-67378439930763800132022-03-01T02:01:00.000-08:002022-03-01T02:01:21.500-08:00Visits to the coffee shop<p>Twice a week, I enjoy having a flat white at my local coffee
shop, choosing a time (about 11.00) when there are not too many people about and
there is thus a choice of tables. My ritual is the same each time: order the
coffee, collect it, settle at a table, and then read the paper that I have
bought from the M&S shop that is next door to my habitual haunt. I take my
time over the coffee (unless it gets busy and I need to give up my table, unlike the
“home office” customers) and then walk back home. Nine times out of ten I feel
better than when I arrived at the shop and I can’t really explain why. It’s not because of
the stimulus of caffeine, although that may play a small part, but more about
making me feel part of a bigger world; something about which psychiatrists
would have their own comments to make. I also enjoy coffee with friends, but my solo
visits have a quite different quality, suiting my mildly autistic nature.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes, a piece in the newspaper has a special appeal and
that happened this morning when I read the review by Ellen Peirson-Hagger of
Sheila Heti’s book <i>Pure Colour</i> in the "i" newspaper for 25th February 2022.
It contained a paragraph that really made me think (both the review and the
paragraph are shown below).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYfChaoTcESUrFD5fkfuEOiaSXd4tEcLRfiAWbo_YkGNC-NxcUAxqr-Eg-9nOk4uamk-KYzS93RjWVAUtAYV2dZgn_tjd5gpFnArrua5X2rUqj90Dy0MGv24JJ2X69Gz3l3aTsH1UHEoStxLqv3w8oy29OZGApZFBa4qRUcVdlWlQPLexRrDbc5g=s3730" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2473" data-original-width="3730" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYfChaoTcESUrFD5fkfuEOiaSXd4tEcLRfiAWbo_YkGNC-NxcUAxqr-Eg-9nOk4uamk-KYzS93RjWVAUtAYV2dZgn_tjd5gpFnArrua5X2rUqj90Dy0MGv24JJ2X69Gz3l3aTsH1UHEoStxLqv3w8oy29OZGApZFBa4qRUcVdlWlQPLexRrDbc5g=w535-h354" width="535" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk2W-4tQ0lrM4I8SNmv1rOn5ePSiEBugWKPEa0XoSkJQsxM0U7wg4ZW7RU9kPkVHxFwA0O7_TjkGEZ0vsGWIOqB1lXV23Fj8W6mtGUHr12MTpt2sgpNs2GqYoLidNE0Q7jG8gyLljHx0_KnIKbU8OgOaBswxMh36DlAZTU8fy-BAEhy-AMySMwlw=s682" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="682" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk2W-4tQ0lrM4I8SNmv1rOn5ePSiEBugWKPEa0XoSkJQsxM0U7wg4ZW7RU9kPkVHxFwA0O7_TjkGEZ0vsGWIOqB1lXV23Fj8W6mtGUHr12MTpt2sgpNs2GqYoLidNE0Q7jG8gyLljHx0_KnIKbU8OgOaBswxMh36DlAZTU8fy-BAEhy-AMySMwlw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The question that was posed touched a nerve ending and I
started to ask myself why I am moved deeply by some works of art – I guess that
is something we all do, but I can only speak from my own experience.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When I’m in the right mood, I can be so moved by some pieces
of music that I almost feel shaken. Something very deep within me is getting
touched and I can easily see how this could be interpreted as “the breath of
God”. What is this feeling? I don’t know the answer, but the effect is
profound. Does it help to know that the composers that most affect me in this
way are Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Sibelius? All three wrote music that was
evocative of places that I know and where I have been “at one” with both Nature
and Landscape. Of course, it is easy to say that my feelings are those of a
Romantic and that it is all very emotional, but that doesn’t explain why I am
that way. It feels like an attempt to find “light at the end of a tunnel”.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Other arts also affect me, but not to such a profound
emotional level, although some paintings I return to stare at every time I visit
galleries on repeat visits. It might be works by Turner or by Murillo, and
there is no consistency of subject matter, just something that draws me. Turner
I find fascinating, because he was seeking to portray something about the
essence of Nature: Murillo because there is no artist better at conveying human
tenderness. Like my reaction to certain pieces of music, the feelings can be
(inadequately) described, but they cannot be shared.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It leaves me with the question of whether what I feel is
similar to what others feel and whether that deep feeling causes them to believe
in God. It’s interesting what can come from reading one’s paper in the local
coffee shop.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7389584409577406842.post-56210799948309450032022-01-03T06:42:00.001-08:002022-01-03T06:57:14.896-08:00Torquay Boys’ Grammar School, South Devon Tech. - and pranks<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI6A1oEKTgX2VZOr7_RSPZPK6PJrz4lyadbph2M6g0iVbCmC8mgywo1v4pXNICtHSidiJXKnxbpLgeo0KHNE2zPPnpjb1_3JJAkvh4OYl5tTZnfbzFRaLEUibHwAZJCreqJhDnRzOzeuPDqYIL1NvlaipD3e-Jl2OLncjJeD0zUkuBR6GsWtxtnQ=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI6A1oEKTgX2VZOr7_RSPZPK6PJrz4lyadbph2M6g0iVbCmC8mgywo1v4pXNICtHSidiJXKnxbpLgeo0KHNE2zPPnpjb1_3JJAkvh4OYl5tTZnfbzFRaLEUibHwAZJCreqJhDnRzOzeuPDqYIL1NvlaipD3e-Jl2OLncjJeD0zUkuBR6GsWtxtnQ=w379-h504" width="379" /></a></div><br />Many of us look back on school days
as being some of the best of our life. For me, there were a few good times, but
mostly it was not a happy experience, and I don’t feel disappointed that my old
school has now been demolished. In the image above, the east entrance to the
school, with its rather grand portico, remains, as does the eastern internal staircase
(just visible in the background of this image by Tom Jolliffe – with the
handrail still in place) that led to the first floor. <p></p><p>Passing though the entrance shown in the
image, one entered a corridor that had the Head’s Study on the left, the Secretary’s
office on the right and a succession of classrooms also on the right, with the
Biology Laboratory at the end of the corridor (to the left of the corridor were
windows looking out on to one of the “playgrounds”). The Biology Lab. plays an
important part in the following narrative.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 17.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 17.0pt;">Having passed O-levels in 1962, I
took A-levels in Chemistry, Botany and Zoology (I dropped Physics after one
year). Chemistry was then taught at the school in a relatively new two-storey
block that had replaced an old hut, where Mr Roberts had earlier taught us (1A
of the 1958 intake) to recite the mantra “Acid + Base = Salt + Water”. The hut
was so old that the knots in the floorboards were raised and shiny, the rest of
the boards being worn away by the scuffing shoes of generations of students. As
I recall, A-level Chemistry was taught on the first floor of the new building and
I had the misfortune of having Mr Crabtree as my teacher. He was clearly an
able chemist, but he bullied me on occasions, one of which I recall clearly
when he tapped me repeatedly on the head while saying, with raised voice, “valency,
Wotton, valency!”. I’m not sure what I had done to deserve this response, but I
admit that I didn’t have much interest in chemistry, as was apparent to Mr
Crabtree. My fascination with natural history made the A-levels in Botany and
Zoology much more to my taste, but, unfortunately, I was not a good scholar.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 17.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 17.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p>These are quotes from my book
“Walking with Gosse” [1]:<span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">As Biology was
not among the most popular subjects at TBGS, we took A-Levels in both Botany
and Zoology at the South Devon Technical College, in a building adjacent to the
school. Teaching was shared between the two institutions, with Botany taught by
Mr Hood from the Grammar School and Zoology by Mr Cosway from the Tech… <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 17.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p>…and another excerpt [1]: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">…I always enjoyed
visiting Paignton Zoo to gaze at the animals and I joined the “Peacock
Association” (the Friends of the Zoo) to gain free entry and to attend meetings
with guest speakers. On the south side of the Zoo was an area closed to the
public, with a high double gate that led to mature woodland and a hillside that
was grazed by rabbits. Mr Hood had kept a record of the distribution of plants
on the hillside over several years and a group of us Botany students was taken
there to continue mapping the site using quadrats. It was something that was
organised each year to teach botanical surveying techniques and I really
enjoyed this field work. My earlier flower collecting meant that I could
identify many plants, although I now used Latin names rather than the common
ones, and I went back to the site on my own a few times to expand the survey in
other areas. This impressed, and surprised, Mr Hood who, like Mr Cosway, didn’t
think I had much of a future academically [the latter having recommended that I
give up Zoology]. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0cm; tab-stops: 17.0pt;">I liked Mr Hood,
as he clearly loved plants and seemed independent-minded, although we only had
occasional glimpses of the human side of our schoolmasters. He had spent time
in India with the Army and was almost a caricature of someone from that
background, having a large moustache and habitually wearing a rumpled tweed
sports jacket and cavalry twills. Occasionally, he talked to us about the
Western Ghats and some of his Indian adventures and these were very exotic for
me, an insular Paigntonian.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The freedom of the Tech. was such that I never worked as hard as I should have done in classes and it also meant that, with a couple of friends, we thought little of skipping school to go collecting marine animals from the local shore (see below). We should have been in the School Library, but identifying the animals in our collections was much more fun and we also brought back specimens and set them up in aquarium tanks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIgNXgezKLNGaoAcz2eidaRE0OkyOAbezraziXAY3iFJKzpd7ZA54lHclpV-pn2d6INpZ3ogc5n1E75tVhxSqAqirVRg5cUmLsURpRMBTX0zYV6lOcWbFbpNf2ZfCXIXZpPdzTEnD_cdJRo4uLmxU6mG2scvcD907oH_v-8T72ENr4CjGSYc5bXA=s3585" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1901" data-original-width="3585" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIgNXgezKLNGaoAcz2eidaRE0OkyOAbezraziXAY3iFJKzpd7ZA54lHclpV-pn2d6INpZ3ogc5n1E75tVhxSqAqirVRg5cUmLsURpRMBTX0zYV6lOcWbFbpNf2ZfCXIXZpPdzTEnD_cdJRo4uLmxU6mG2scvcD907oH_v-8T72ENr4CjGSYc5bXA=w559-h297" width="559" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Our form room was the Biology Lab. in the main school building
and it was the scene of several pranks. One came from our collections, as we
soon discovered that seaweed kept in a large jar decomposed to produce a shocking
and pervasive smell. What could be more fun than to secrete an open jar of
rotting wrack near a radiator in the corridor and then retrieve it once the
area had become filled with its perfume? We also discovered that bubbling gas
into a sink of water to which “Teepol” had been added produced large quantities
of foam that would spread along a bench and that throwing a lighted match into
the foam would produce a wonderful sheet of flame that burned itself out in a
second or two.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps the most infamous prank came when we went to a local
pub and bought a couple of flagons of cider that we distilled to produce applejack.
We knew well enough that distillates might contain harmful chemicals, in addition to ethyl alcohol, so we were reluctant to drink the stuff that we had made. I
can still remember the smell of it though, and the pleasure to be obtained by
our behaviour and, as with all the other pranks, the school was seemingly
unaware of our activities. As mentioned earlier, the Head’s Study was just
along our corridor and “Joe” Harmer (MA Cantab. FRAS) didn’t have a highly-developed
sense of humour. If I’d been caught there would have been trouble (and more
doubt about my academic abilities), even though I was only a passive participant
in the activities. Visits to the shore were an exception, as I was fascinated
by all that I discovered there, and played an active role in searches.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My chances of gaining a good reference on my university
application form would also have been affected if my behaviour during the 1964
Sixth Form Conference had been discovered. These conferences were held in
different schools each year and there were lots of group debates that were very
enjoyable: conferences were also a chance to meet girls. At the one held at
TBGS, the day started with a religious service at a local church and then there
were sessions until lunchtime, during which three of us (highly illegally) went
to “The Rising Sun”. After a couple of pints of beer each, we left to walk back
to school, singing our version of the 1964 hit by The Animals:</p><p class="MsoNormal">There is a house in Torre, Torquay</p><p class="MsoNormal">They call the Rising Sun </p><p class="MsoNormal">And it’s been the ruin of many a poor
boy</p><p class="MsoNormal">And God I know, I’m one </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Well, it didn’t lead to my ruin, but it might have done. On return to the conference, I had the misfortune to sit next to a teacher from another school and had to ask him to let me out as I needed to get rid of some of the fluid that I’d accumulated. He must have found it odd that I left the debate so soon after it started, and also that I smelt a little of alcohol. An anxious few days followed, but I got away with it and I did get my university place and that’s where I changed beyond recognition. I was now much more diligent and I have to say that it was at university where it all started for me. School was just part of the build-up, although I recognise the dedication, and excellence, of some masters and the friendship of fellow students. While rarely happy to see buildings being demolished (another image by Tom Jolliffe is shown below), there’s some satisfaction in seeing the end of the old TBGS. My time there wasn’t the happiest period of my life.</p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] Roger S Wotton (2020) <i>Walking with Gosse</i>. e-book
(available widely).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhb1avK_4Mq6G3l1RqvF_uA91z51PNZ6y4anvOowi5HPjswCE7vPaSDuJpJkRg8KvTfZgKC3sFlzI4k5PHGyKOn8wXhYrM1YLgE9gZfwqWiYQ1rweVS-CVj0NF456EE6TJiB1aqrX7rmTxtkC1VMoVLpKAf9xaJrtmc7RIXLwDYfQZcsL_gUhmwKg=s640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhb1avK_4Mq6G3l1RqvF_uA91z51PNZ6y4anvOowi5HPjswCE7vPaSDuJpJkRg8KvTfZgKC3sFlzI4k5PHGyKOn8wXhYrM1YLgE9gZfwqWiYQ1rweVS-CVj0NF456EE6TJiB1aqrX7rmTxtkC1VMoVLpKAf9xaJrtmc7RIXLwDYfQZcsL_gUhmwKg=w493-h320" width="493" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Rogerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12990167210751154054noreply@blogger.com0