Philip Henry Gosse, the famous Victorian naturalist and populariser
of marine biology, published Land and Sea in 1865 and, in his first
biography of his father [1], Edmund Gosse writes of the book:
..some of the sketches were rather
trivial and diffusely told, besides possessing the disadvantage that they
seemed like discarded chapters from other books, which indeed they were..
However, one chapter – “Meadfoot and the Starfish” - shows the
writing of Henry Gosse at its best. He describes a walk from his home in St
Marychurch, Torquay, to a local landmark called Daddyhole Plain and then
onwards to the beach at Meadfoot (shown below in an image from the BritishBeaches
website).
Gosse rested here, writing [2]:
The exertion of walking and
collecting had given just enough of fatigue to the muscular system to make the dolce
far niente a luxury. Under the shadow of a great angular block, I reclined,
enjoying the beauty and exhilaration of the sunlight, while relieved from its
oppression. Most brilliant was the flood of light with which very object was
suffused in the unclouded blaze of that summer noon. How fine was the interchange
of broad light and deep dark shadow, on those angular limestone cliffs! How
glowing the coloured breadths of golden furze and purple-sheeted heath,
expanded sea and vaulted sky!
His attention then turned to the rock pools at Meadfoot and the
algae that were abundant here, one being Delesseria sanguinea,
an herbarium specimen of which is shown below (image from Wikimedia Commons).
This very fine species is not
uncommon all along the coast hereabouts, but is never seen except at the lowest
level of the tide, where it grows often in considerable quantity, large leafy
tufts springing out of the basal angles of the perpendicular masses of rock, or
in persistent tide-pools hollowed in the rock itself. It will not bear exposure
to the air with impunity, as many of our sea-weeds will; for if left uncovered
but a short period, a quarter of an hour or even less, the delicate rose-crimson
membrane becomes defiled with large blotches of a dull orange-colour, which
shew that its texture is irrevocably injured, decomposition having already set
in.
Thus, Henry Gosse introduces his readers to organisms of deeper
water and the alien world that represents for us: the passage also conjuring up
the pleasure of investigating the sea shore, which became a passion
for many Victorians. As I sit writing this piece in my study in Hertfordshire
on a very sunny June day, I certainly feel the pull of Meadfoot, just as many
readers of Land and Sea must have done. All the more so, as I was
brought up in Torbay and walked over the same shores that so beguiled Gosse.
Quite something for a chapter written more than 150 years
ago.
[1] Edmund Gosse (1896) The
Naturalist of the Sea-shore: The Life of Philip Henry Gosse. London,
William Heinemann.
[2] Philip Henry Gosse (1865) Land and Sea. London,
James Nisbet & Co.
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