Images of the North – A Guest Post by Laura Newbigging

Hello, my name is Laura Newbigging and I have been undertaking research using the collections in the amazing library of the Natural History Society of Northumbria. This is located in the Great North Museum: Hancock Library which is free to use and open to everybody. All of the books I mention below are located in the GNM: Hancock Library.

My preoccupation with “the North” began when I was at university, studying the music of the Icelandic artist,  Björk. (When I use the term “the North” I am generally referring to regions in the Arctic Circle, including Scandinavia, Greenland,  Canada and Russia.)  At the time, I was writing about how she uses and refers to nature in her music; she used recordings of footsteps in the snow as percussion, and created deep, distorted noises to emulate the sound of volcanoes erupting to evoke Icelandic landscapes. I went on to do a master’s degree where I researched musicians in Northern regions who use Northern landscapes to build a brand based on their national or regional identity. This is not a new practice by any means – countries have drawn upon their natural scenery for their national identity for centuries, particularly in the 19th century Romantic era.

The more I listened to musicians who branded themselves as “Northern”, the more I began to notice that there were common themes in audience reactions, often referring to something pure, simple, authentic, and primal. I needed some guidance in understanding how the North has been portrayed and imagined historically, in order to  understand why people reacted to Northern landscapes in this way.

This is where Peter Davidson’s book “The Idea of North” (2005) came in. Davidson writes about how Northern landscapes have been portrayed in myth, poetry, literature and film, ranging from Nabokov’s Zembla, the Old Norse sagas, Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen” (the inspiration for the film “Frozen”), to Dutch and German Romantic landscape paintings, and accounts of Arctic expeditions.

Davidson describes how the North has often been used as a metaphor for the edges of the known world; its remoteness and difficult climate mean that the North was often framed as a challenge to be explored and conquered. Portrayals of the North generally fell into two categories, often with moral undertones; the North as a place of death, and the North as a place of beauty and purity.

The television series “Game of Thrones” and the film “The Revenant” are modern examples of portraying the North as a place of death and monotony; long, cold dark nights, storms, isolation, decay, and the dead walking again (called draugr in Norse mythology, and now commonly referred to as revenants from the French for “to come back”). Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen”, as a sort of embodiment of winter, was originally meant to function as a warning against the perils of social isolation and selfishness, since survival often depended on being able to cooperate and pool resources. Of course, the perception that winter landscapes are devoid of life is primarily us projecting our fears, as winter biomes are still rich with life under the snow.

On the other hand, you do not have to look far for modern portrayals of the North’s beauty, between the many musicians, travel agencies and Instagram accounts who rely on images of these landscapes. This portrayal of Northern landscapes tends to focus on snow, ice, glass, snowflakes, and the midnight sun. In Ancient Greek and Roman mythology, the Hyperboreans were mythical people who lived in a perfect land of untouched nature constant sunshine to the far North; this land was referred to as “Thule” or “Ultima Thule”, the edge of the known world. This meant that travellers would often arrive in places such as Shetland, Iceland, the Faroe Islands, Norway and Greenland with expectations of a land of beauty and purity, only to be confronted by poverty and the reality of surviving on subsistence agriculture.

“Off the Edge of the Ice – Gathering Storm, 14 September 1893” from Fridtjof Nansen’s “Farthest North”

For anyone who has an interest in reading about human relationships with Northern landscapes, this book is a thorough and fascinating account of the ways we have historically portrayed Arctic scenery and culture. It provides an insight into each work of literature, so we can understand the period of time the author was writing in and how this influenced the way they think of the North.

The musicians I focused on during the research for my Master’s degree heavily relied on these historic portrayals of Arctic scenery and culture. For example, many musicians in the Faroe Islands chose to brand their music with images of a mythologised pre-Christian, Viking, pagan North, including stereotypical Northern landscapes such as snowy mountains, and a cultural mishmash of symbols of paganism such as drums, feathers and bones, and nature such as the sun and moon.

I started to understand that the images of the North we still have today are saturated with a long history of authors, travellers and outsiders shaping the way we imagine “the North”. Scientific, missionary and trade expeditions were a common feature of European exploration and colonialism. The travellers would write about their experiences visiting far-off, exotic lands, often describing the landscapes and culture in terms of morality, such as purity or barbarity. Eventually I found a plethora of Scandinavian scholars who confirmed my suspicions that contemporary explorers perceived the North as another “Orient” to be conquered; as exotic, dangerous, wild and alluring as the Asian or African places they would visit, only colder and whiter. (You can find my citations at the end of post).

There is certainly no shortage of first-hand reports that help to corroborate this claim. British travellers like Richard Burton, Anthony Trollope, Mrs Alec Tweedie, Sabine Baring-Gould and William Morris all ventured North to try to find Ultima Thule. Morris even wrote in his accounts that he was undergoing “a Viking adventure”, and that the Faroese land was his first experience of the true North.

“At Sunset, 22nd September 1893” From Fridtjof Nansen’s “Farthest North”

I continued my search and found many similar accounts in the NHSN library which contains original 19th and early 20th century books and journals about scientific expeditions to the Arctic. Dr Fridtjof Nansen begins his account of their expedition rather dramatically in his book “Farthest North…” (1897)

“Unseen and untrodden under their spotless mantle of ice, the rigid polar regions slept the profound sleep of death from the earliest dawn of time. Wrapped in his white shroud, the mighty giant stretched his clammy ice-limbs abroad, and dreamed his age-long dreams. Ages passed – deep was the silence.” (page 1)

He continues talking about Norse mythology, mentioning frost giants, Niflheim (or Nivlheim as he spells it), Helheim and Baldur, and in a similar fashion to William Morris, Nansen frames himself as a Viking explorer by mentioning that the old Vikings were “the first Arctic voyagers”. His writing is also a perfect example of the colonial conquering tendencies so prevalent in 19th century Europe:

“The spirit of mankind will never rest till every spot of these regions has been trodden by the foot of man, till every enigma has been solved.” (page 3)

His attitude is echoed by other writers when they describe the native inhabitants of Greenland (then called Eskimo, but now Inuit), characterising them as naïve and simple, or barbaric. It is rather  uncomfortable to reproduce what they say in a modern setting, but as an illustration, Aubyn Trevor-Battye’s book “Ice bound on the Kolguev…” (1895) describes the “happy, good-tempered character of these child-like people” (page 242). When describing the native inhabitants’ navigational and hunting techniques, almost all of the writers I reviewed for this article lean heavily into the idea that the Inuit are more closely connected to nature and are a simpler people than their European counterparts.

The above examples are indicative of the way that the travellers wrote about both the landscape and the native inhabitants, containing many similarities in themes that focus on purity or danger as I mentioned earlier. Many of the authors have a love-hate relationship with ice in particular. Ejnar Mikkelsen, in his book “Lost in the Arctic…” (1913), describes how they are in near-constant danger of their vessels being caught, crushed or sunk by the ice, in what is by far my favourite quote:

“Thoroughly disgusted with things in general, and unanimously agreeing that ice and the Arctic were hell upon earth, we were at last obliged to make fast.” (page 24)

“Evening Among Drift Ice” From Fridtjof Nansen’s “Farthest North”

Another common gripe that many of the authors have with the Arctic landscape is the monotony, extreme days and nights, and the perceived lifelessness:

“It was certainly about as miserable and uninviting a coast as you can well imagine. Trees you cannot expect to find in these latitudes, but often their absence is more than made up for by beauty of scenery in other ways – in splendour of glacier or strength of the bastion cliffs across which the sea-birds go in myriads like driven snow. Here we had not this. We had only a long low line of level monotony.”
Trevor-Battye, Ice-bound on Kolguev (page 32-33).

“The sameness of everything weighted on the spirits… On the land there was nothing of picturesque to admit of description: the hills displayed no character, the rocks were rarely possessed of any, and the lakes and rivers were without beauty.”
Sir John Ross, Narrative of a Second Voyage (page 598).

“This snowless ice-plain is like a life without love –  nothing to soften it.”
Fridtjof Nansen, Farthest North (page 297).

And yet also found are reverent descriptions of the very same ice, snow and sun in the same texts, echoing the distant and otherworldly conceptions of Ultima Thule.

“There was life enough up here among the pack ice – life and natural beauty, and splendid colour beyond words”.

“For an hour we lay motionless, staring at the ice, which lay there, an unchanging, dazzling expanse of white as far as the eye could see.”
Ejnar Mikkelsen, Lost in the Arctic (pages 22 and 27).

“A beautiful sight, the level, slightly drifted snow plain stretching away apparently infinitely to the North.”

“The slender spars of the [ship] looked very, very beautiful in the yellow midnight May sunlight.”
Robert E. Peary, Nearest the Pole (pages 109 and 167).

“The beauty of the scene before us [the mountainous coast] is much enhanced when the sun circles low to the south, we then get the most delicate blue shadows, and purest tones of pink and violet on the hill slopes.”
Sir Clements R. Markham, The Lands of Silence (page 464).

 “The aurora appeared with more or less brilliancy on twenty-eight nights in this month, and we were also gratified by the resplendent beauty of the moon.”
John Franklin, Narrative of a Journey (page 257).

“Moonlight, 22 November 1893. A Vertical Axis Passes through the Moon with a Strongly-Marked Luminous Patch Where it Intersects the Horizon…” From Fridtjof Nansen’s “Farthest North”

 

One of my favourite things about studying history in libraries and archives is that it is possible to learn from the past so that we can evaluate how our current culture reacts to Northern landscapes. For example, the recent growth of Germanic neo-paganism and heathenry* and white nationalism continues the 19th century Romantic tradition of tying nationality to ethnicity and land. Amongst these demographics, Northern landscapes tend to function as an exotic place of escapism, where you can find sanctuary from modern life and contemporary values with regards to gender and race, so life can be lived in a simpler way (check out my citations at the end). When I was researching musicians who brand themselves by using images of Northern landscapes and paganism, I noticed that online audience reactions made frequent references to “true European culture” and “protecting European culture from external influences”. Some commentators went further and specified which external influences they wanted to keep out. This strongly echoes the ethno-nationalist and racist ideologies that were present when people like Wagner and Tolkien originally took inspiration from the Old Norse Sagas to start forming the fantasy genre as we know it today. An occultist, völkisch group called the Thule Society, founded in Germany in 1918, theorised that Thule was the lost homeland of the Aryan race, believed in the power of runes, and made all members swear that they had no Jewish or otherwise non-white heritage. One man who attended these meetings, Dietrich Eckhart, would go onto be a key influence on Hitler in his rise to power years later.

Thule (or Ultima Thule) is just one example of how a fictional landscape can capture the imaginations of people for hundreds, or even thousands of years. When I first started investigating the North, I was searching for an answer as to how and why people connect with images of the North in a strictly modern context. Having since spent the better part of a few years delving into this subject, I now know that I wouldn’t have achieved a nuanced understanding of contemporary cultural reactions and their significance without being able to view and consider relevant material from the past.

So, if you can, pay a visit to the Great North Museum: Hancock Library where you can read stories and accounts that were written by people from earlier times.  You might find yourself recognising something of the modern-day in what they have to say.

Further information about the library is available at https://greatnorthmuseum.org.uk/collections/library-and-archives

References

 Resources external to the Great North Museum: Hancock Library.

Gaini, Firouz, ‘Cultural Rhapsody in Shift: Faroese culture and identity in the age of globalization’ in Among the Islanders of the North, ed. Firouz Gaini (Tórshavn: Faroe University Press, 2011), 132-162.

Granholm, Kennet, ‘“Sons of Northern Darkness”: Heathen Influences in Black Metal and Neofolk Music’, Numen, 58/4 (2011), 514-544.

Heesch, Florian, ‘Metal for Nordic Men? Amon Amarth’s Representations of Vikings’ in The Metal Void: First Gatherings, ed. Niall W. R. Scott (Oxford: Inter-Disciplinary Press, 2010), 71-80.

Hicks, Jonathon, Uy, Michael, Venter, Carina, ‘Introduction: Music and Landscape’, The Journal of Musicology, 33/1 (2016), 1-10.

Loftsdóttir, Kristín, ‘The Exotic North: Gender, Nation Branding and Post-colonialism in Iceland’, NORA – Nordic Journal of Feminist and Gender Research, 23/4 (2015), 246-260.

Loftsdóttir, Kristín, Lund, Katrín Anna, ‘Þingvellir: Commodifying the “Heart” of Iceland’ in Postcolonial Perspectives on the European High North: Unscrambling the Arctic, ed. Graham Huggan, Lars Jensen (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 117-141.

Oslund, Karen, ‘Imagining Iceland: Narratives of Nature and History in the North Atlantic’, The British Journal for the History of Science, 35/3 (2002), 313-334.

Piotrowska, Anna G., ‘Scandinavian Heavy Metal as an Intertextual Play with Norse Mythology’ in Music at the Extremes: Essays on Sounds Outside the Mainstream, ed. Scott A. Wilson (Jefferson: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2015), 101-114.

Ridanpää, Juha, ‘Laughing at Northernness: Postcolonial and Metafictive Irony in the Imaginative Geography’, Social & Cultural Geography, 8/6 (2007), 907-928.

 

Sounds like Christmas! Songs from Fenwick’s Christmas Window – Dominique Bell, UOSH Project Manager

Christmas doesn’t seem quite complete without a visit to Fenwick’s Christmas Window, does it?

Fenwick’s Christmas Window 2019: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

 

With Christmas fast approaching, we’ve been enjoying digitising and cataloguing material from the Fenwick Archive, which is held by Tyne & Wear Archives. This collection includes radio adverts and soundtracks from the Christmas windows from the 1970s to the early 2000s.

Our favourite Christmas window soundtrack is “Fenwick’s Fairytales” from December 1996, which featured songs about traditional fairy tale characters such as Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood.

Introduction to Fenwick’s Fairytales

Master cassette tape and copy, held within the Fenwick Archive

 

There is a lovely mix of songs with a fast-paced jolly tune sung by the seven dwarfs and a slow ballad by Snow White.

Snow White wanders lonely in the woods

The introductions to each window are as enjoyable as the songs sung by the famous characters. Here are two clips from the Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty windows.

Introduction to the Cinderella themed window

Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, Fenwick’s Christmas Window, December 1996, Tyne & Wear Archives DT.FEN.6.5.320 (8807-15)

 

Introduction to Sleeping Beauty themed window

 

Hansel and Gretel and Red Riding Hood, Fenwick’s Christmas Window, December 1996, Tyne & Wear Archives DT.FEN.6.5.320 (8807-6)

 

This one has a bit of a different flavour and we imagine it made quite a few people pause the first time they heard it on Northumberland Street.

Hansel and Gretel rap

Oh My! What big teeth you have! The eerie yet perky Little Red Riding Hood has a happy ending like all the others, of course.

Little Red Riding Hood meets the Big Bad Wolf

 

As you would expect there is also the famous singing tree which has featured in many windows over the years and “Santa Santa, good old Santa Claus, we all love his cheery ho ho ho” along with other familiar Christmas songs.

Do you remember the singing tree?

 

How about Good Old Santa Claus?

With or without children in tow, a trip to see Fenwick’s Christmas Window is always an amazing spectacle.  How many past Christmas windows can you remember?

Listening to the Fenwick Christmas Window soundtracks has really got us in the Christmas spirit. We’ve loved preserving these important audio archives which give a taste of North East heritage and life.

We can’t wait to discover all of the other treasures within our collection and partner collections from across the North East and Yorkshire.

Merry Christmas from everyone working on the Unlocking Our Sound Heritage project.

 

                        

The British Fairground – A reflection of a modern society losing its charm? – by Lauren Downs, placement student

As we trundle forward into the abyss of ever-evolving technologies, globalisation and unprecedented connectedness, it often seems that we simultaneously become increasingly disconnected from one another, our local heritage, and the heritage of minority communities in our society. In this age, projects such as Unlocking Our Sounds Heritage become more important than ever in bringing modern society back in touch with local and personal accounts of the past, through their digitisation and accessibility online. Such recordings bring aspects of modernisation, particularly through the duration of the twentieth century, into sharp relief, and help us to reflect on the trajectory of our society and the local and generational customs and values which we may be losing along the way.

As a placement student working on the Unlocking Our Sound Heritage Project Collections from the North of England, I have devoted the much of my time to cataloguing oral history recordings detailing the history of the British Fairground. This was an entirely new realm of social history for me, my only real point of reference being a local funfair close to where I grew up, spoken of fondly as a popular recreational attraction and social hub by my grandparents and even parents, but in general decline in both facets since before my childhood in the 1990s. I can count on one hand the amount of times I have been to the fair, and as such have on occasion found myself contemplating its long history, and how the increasingly stark and commercialised enterprise would continue in existence.

What would never be deducible by the current fair, or even the narrative of its founding in the 1920s, is the social centrality and importance of the traditional travelling fair to local communities in Britain in particularly the earlier twentieth century period, even up until my parents’ childhood in the 1960s and 70s. Nor would it be possible to ever glean the nature and rich history of the itinerant community of ‘showmen’ travelling the country with their fairground rides, stalls and shows, in the aforementioned period and even until the present day, bringing the institution of the travelling fair to various grounds all over Britain. Such is the power of oral history, particularly among local and minority communities, such as the minority fairground community which possesses a distinct oral tradition of family history stretching back generations, to allow us to access micro-narratives and the richness and nuance of personal experience and human emotion. It is these elements which add colour to the past as well as to our perspective on our own society.

William Keating Collection photograph, Hull Fair, circa 1903

Having listened to many prominent showmen and women, as well as local people, vividly recount their lifelong experience of the fairground, throughout the course of the twentieth century, a unanimous theme is the comparative modern loss of the ‘atmosphere’ of the fairground, its earlier spirit and charm. Thus precipitates the question, why? Of course, as detailed by the show people, slowly declining numbers at particularly smaller fairs and the expensive nature of modern fairgrounds, not least in the race for such bigger and faster rides as the entertainment threshold of the population rises amidst an explosion of technology-based entertainment, are all considerable factors. Yet from listening to storied individuals recount the fairground of the earlier twentieth century, it is clear that it is the distinct amalgamation of qualities they describe which made such an indelible impact on showmen and fairgoers alike. Herein, it seems, lies the charm which has been lost.

Paul Angel photograph, Hull Fair, 1984

There were undoubtedly tangible aspects – the fairground organs so fondly remembered by showmen and fairgoers alike, an oral experience distinct to the fair, alongside the mechanisation of rides and lighting which was anomalous in society as a whole, clearly contributed vastly to the atmosphere of the fair. Indeed, the recordings even detail the distinct regional nature of fairground foods, from black-pea Booths in Lancashire to pomegranates in Hull, a far cry from the monotony of today’s candyfloss. The showmen’s reminiscences of the early steam-powered and electricity-driven rides, rapidly innovating in the interwar years from Frederick Savage’s revolutionary steam-powered gallopers, yachts and roundabouts, to the likes of the dodgems, Noah’s Arks and waltzers, emphasise the awe and admiration they inspired. This was not only in their motion but their art and lighting, ornately painted and frequently gilded, as recalled by showmen who trained and worked alongside fairground artists such as Fred Fowle.

It is difficult to imagine how an environment so unique and technologically advanced, yet, as is consistently reiterated, accessible both financially and terms of the pure sensory experience of the novel sights, sounds and smells, could be recaptured today. Always at the forefront of technological innovation, this is never described as having been detrimental to the atmosphere of the fair in the period in which it co-existed with several more intangible qualities.

George Tucker photograph Portsmouth Fair 1939

Such qualities are what these wonderful and often candid recordings truly bring to the fore. From ordinary locals to show people, enthusiasts, and prominent figures in the Showmen’s Guild and Fairground Association of Great Britain, the recollections reveal the invariable sense of occasion of the fairs, the collective community excitement and anticipation they engendered. Children are described as eagerly awaiting the arrival of the showmens’ wagons and engines, transporting their various loads containing the rides and stalls which would then be assembled, largely by hand, by the showmen as local children watched on.

The fair’s primary importance was clearly as a place of commune for people whose paths infrequently crossed in everyday life, with people coming from surrounding local areas, to meet friends, make friends, and even court. Indeed, it is clear that the fair, then, was truly central to local communities, and transcended socio-economic as well as life-cycle divisions – with showmen such as Jack Redhorn describing living and working on the fairground as being an education in temperaments. It was, significantly, a place for families, as well as a key social gathering place for young people, an importance which became heightened particularly during the hardship of the Second World War.

Indeed the showpeople of these recordings describe the government’s realisation of the fair’s essentiality to the morale of the nation, allowing and encouraging fairs to continue, which they did even during the severe fuel shortages and necessity to operate even under blackout tents. The likes of showman Billy Day describe even the efforts of American soldiers stationed in Britain to provide fuel to allow his family’s steam-powered fair to run, as well as a poignant tale of his father being asked to open his rides to soldiers in Abington just before their D-Day deployment.

Rowland Scott Photograph Nottingham Goose Fair 1958

Yet perhaps the key factor in this elusive British fairground charm is the fairground community, an insular and sometimes marginalised ‘clan’ of show families for which there are countless tales of fortitude, ingenuity, togetherness and respect for tradition and customs. Whether it be the family of Scottish showman Gordon Codona, who devised and starred in their own family side shows, or the innovating showmen who brought moving pictures to everyday people in the bioscope shows, or indeed the showmens’ often pioneering adoption of the latest innovations in transportation and even music, the fairground community were societal innovators.

The recordings tell of a community unflinching in the face of adversity, overcoming the likes of the difficulties of long journeys all over Britain in traction engines and early motor lorries and the exigencies of war, during which the key role of women in fairground families was magnified. Various fairgoers detail a key part of the scenery of the fairground being the showmen’s wagons, their often beautifully constructed abodes, on the fairgrounds which were their true homes.

Harry Lee Collection photograph, Hull Fair 1935, Waddington’s Steam Yachts

Is this then, the true charm of the fair, which various showmen and enthusiasts now try to recapture and market to new generations, for whom the relentless forward march of technology and societal change have resulted in it being lost from the modern fairground? This is attested by the proprietors of replica Victorian and Edwardian fairs, those such as Jack Schofield who details his choice to travel with steam rides in the modern day, or the likes of Harry Lee, a Bradford showman who tells of persevering with his precious steam yachts from the 1930s well into the 1970s. The accounts of the spirit and charm of the earlier twentieth century fairground, its social significance, a quality lost to current generations, would also be lost if it were not for projects such as Unlocking Our Sound Heritage. Although we may be inculcated with broad narratives of the events of the past, we need to be able to hear the stories of people, individuals, to glimpse the day to day nuances and values, the emotion, ‘charm’ and ‘spirit’, intangible human qualities which are so illuminative and instructive of the present as well as the past.

Some Old Naturalists – A Guest Post By Brian Allen

Hello, my name is Brian Allen and I am privileged to be a volunteer in the special and unique Great North Museum: Hancock Library. Welcome to my second blog about some of the amazing books that can be found here.  I am also a member of the Natural History Society of Northumbria (NHSN) which has its Library and Archives located here. Some of the books are on the open shelves whilst the older and rarer texts are kept behind the scenes in a controlled environment. Any of the material can be requested and the librarian will make it available for you to view.  NHSN books in the public area can be loaned by members of the Society,  which has its office just along the corridor from the Library.

My first blog looked at the Collins’ New Naturalists series and referred to the “Old Naturalists” in passing.  This was not an ageist comment about members of the Society! It was rather an acknowledgement that the Library has a valuable collection of books going back centuries demonstrating how natural history was observed and recorded in the past.  I mentioned Gilbert White (1720 – 1793) whose “Natural History and Antiquities of Selbourne” (1789) is a classic.

Gilbert White

The Library has an early edition (1813) of this collection of letters to friends recording White’s observations of the natural environment where he lived in East Hampshire.  As a parson-naturalist-ornithologist he enjoyed a privileged life style which afforded him considerable freedom to pursue his own interests.  His aim was to “…induce any of his readers to pay a more ready attention to the wonders of the Creation, too frequently overlooked as common occurrences…”.  If he did not succeed in fulfilling this aim he acknowledged the physical and mental benefits of his pursuits into old age not least through engaging intelligently with others.  Today we have citizen science, social media and the opportunity to share our interests with others in classes, on field trips and when visiting nature reserves.  This shared passion soon leads to friendly conversations with others doing the same thing.

Gilbert White is not the only significant old naturalist to have been a clergyman.  Indeed there are several other clergymen represented in the Library’s collection who made very significant contributions both regionally and nationally.  I want to look at a few of them in the rest of this blog.

My first Old Naturalist is a 16th century local man with the reputation of being the “Father of Botany”.  William Turner (1509 – 1568) was from Morpeth where a garden now commemorates this remarkable polymath.

William Turner Garden, Morpeth

In those days clergy were often highly educated and from the type of backgrounds which made this possible.  Turner, qualified in medicine and science, was no stranger to religious controversy as a Protestant Calvinist senior clergyman who became Dean of Wells Cathedral (1560 -1564).  His major contribution to natural history is “A New Herball”  first published in 1551.  A rare first edition of this book is available in the NHSN library.  I find it reassuring that he sometimes struggled in the task of identifying various plants.  Despite the advances of science and popular publications it is still a tricky subject for me.   Turner eschewed criticism and deliberately chose to write in English rather than in Latin, familiarly used in his day for academic and scientific writings.  His argument was straightforward.  He likened clergy who taught in Latin to warn their flocks of the perils of this life to a watchman on the walls of Berwick.  On seeing the Scots approaching a warning shouted in Latin “Veniunt Scoti” would not be heeded and the Scots would take the town! “Were he not worthy to be hanged for this labour?” asks Turner. Turner followed the convention of using Latin when classifying plants and drew on ancient texts, nonetheless.  His illustrations were from woodcuts by the German physician and botanist Leonhart Fuchs whose own book in Latin was first published in 1542.  They may not always be a reliable guide to identification, but it is possible, apparently, to identify plants today from many of those pictured in the Herball.

A page from “A New Herball”

If you visited the Library when Dippy was in residence you might have seen a copy on display of John Wilkins (1614 – 1672) and John Ray’s (1627 – 1705)  “An essay towards Real Character and a Philosophical Language”.  This was published in 1668 and attempts a systematic approach to all that was known about the world at that time.  This included a fascinatingly arcane example when applied to the Bible account of Noah’s Ark.  The description of how all the animals would have fitted into the ark comes with lists and an illustration.

Noah’s Ark List of Animals

Wilkins was clearly regarded as an important intellectual clergyman of his day.  He had the unusual distinction of having been head of colleges at both Oxford and Cambridge Universities, became Bishop of Chester and was a founder of the Royal Society of which he was made a Fellow.

My next old naturalist is John Wallis (1714 -1793). He  was a curate at Simonburn in the North Tyne valley for some years and published in two volumes “The Natural History and Antiquities of Northumberland…”  in 1769 also in the NHSN library.  The first volume describes minerals, fossils, plants and animals and the second volume follows three tours around the county.  Both volumes are selective in their contents. For example, in choosing which birds to mention, he focuses on the “most curious and uncommon”  including what he calls a “penguin” which today we know to be a (now extinct) great auk.

When walking in Wallis’ footsteps around Simonburn earlier this year, we followed a brown hare along a lane for a minute or so before it ran across the fields.  Wallis includes the brown hare in Volume One. He  wished  “…our young sportsmen would have more regard to their preservation, and their own pleasure and not hunt them down annually like wolves and bears, to be extirpated without mercy…for the pitiful and brutal ambition only of the boasting among their companions of their killing…Savage and inhuman butchery! Away with it from Northumberland!..”.

Another book displayed in the Library during Dippy’s stay was by William Buckland (1784 – 1856), the next old naturalist.  He was a Reader in Geology and Mineralogy in the University of Oxford, a Canon of Christ Church, Oxford and later Dean of Westminster.  His book “Geology and Mineralogy Considered with Reference to Natural Theology” was published in 1836 and is in the NHSN Library.   He did a lot of work on fossils and was the first English scientist to follow the glaciation theory of the Swiss-American biologist and geologist Louis Agassiz. Nonetheless he held the Biblical Flood to be the cause of all erosion and sedimentation as he sought to reconcile his findings with Biblical narratives.  His work contains the first full account of a fossil dinosaur, now known as Megalosaurus.bucklandii, and is displayed in the Oxford University Museum of Natural History. There are also fine illustrations of the skeleton of an extinct elephant sized sloth, endemic in South America, from the Early Pliocene to the end of the Pleistoscene.

Buckland Image

My final “parson-naturalist” is a son of the vicar at Eglingham, Northumberland, Henry Baker Tristram (1822–1906).  Like his father he became ordained but travelled very widely, especially in the Near East, North Africa and Japan whilst Rector of Castle Eden in County Durham. He became a Canon of Durham Cathedral and a Fellow of the Royal Society.  He found the theories about evolution expounded by Darwin and Wallace initially most persuasive.  On considering a “series of about 100 larks of various species before me…” he claimed “…I cannot help feeling convinced of the views set forth by Messrs Darwin and Wallace” (Ibis 1859).  He changed his mind later following a debate which took place in the Oxford University Natural History Museum. Tristram was a founder of the British Ornithologists’ Union (BOU) in 1858 and became a Fellow of the Royal Society. The BOU is one of the world’s oldest and most respected ornithological organisations with membership stretching across all continents and publishes “IBIS, the International Journal of Avian Science” which is available in the NHSN Library. Being handy with a gun as many collectors of ornithological data were then, he gathered a large collection of bird skins which he later sold to a Museum in Liverpool. The Library holds a copy of Tristram’s book “The Natural History of the Bible, being a review of the physical, geography, geology and meteorology of the Holy Land, with a description of every animal and plant mentioned in Holy Scripture” (1867).

Some of the world views behind these writings may well seem remarkably at odds with contemporary science.  However, these old books bear witness to several centuries of “parson-naturalists” taking very seriously the business of observing and recording their encounters with the natural world.  They were not merely exercising a casual interest or practising what we might call today a hobby.  They were intelligent, skilled and dedicated men whose legacy is to have contributed to the foundations of our understanding and exploration of natural history today.  Women and men of all ages and from a wide range of backgrounds engage in the study of natural history today, whether as professionals or amateurs (that is, those who love the subject).  Many more books have been written and will continue to be published to contribute to the growth of our understanding of nature. Some of them are to be found in the Great North Museum: Hancock Library which also houses special displays from time to time.  Do come and explore these riches for yourself!

The Library is free to use and open to everyone. Further information can be found at https://greatnorthmuseum.org.uk/collections/library-and-archives

A Whale of a Newcastle Tale – by Jo Anderson, Assistant Keeper of Archaeology

Our ethnographic collection has originated from many different sources.  Explorers, missionaries, other museums – we’ve been accepting interesting objects from around the world for centuries.  During my time researching the North American collection, I’ve discovered that some of the objects from Arctic regions have a direct link with an industry that Newcastle upon Tyne used to be famous for: whaling.

Nowadays, commercial whaling is banned by many countries including the UK, but 250 years ago, whaling in Arctic waters was big business.  Whales were hunted in vast numbers mainly for their oil which was used in a variety of products at the time and was highly valued as an illuminant.  Newcastle was a focal point for whaling activity in the northeast of England, often rivalling the great whaling port of Whitby.  Even when British whaling began to decline in the 1820s, Newcastle still had a fleet of whaling ships that would venture to the Arctic waters near Greenland- sometimes returning back to the River Tyne with some very interesting souvenirs that they had traded for with the local Inuit.

Whalers Entering the Tyne by John Wilson Carmichael. Credit: Torre Abbey Museum

The Lady Jane was a 313 ton ship originally built on the Thames in 1722.  By 1804 she was Newcastle-based and became a highly successful whaler.  In 1827, the Literary & Philosophical Society of Newcastle upon Tyne was given three objects that had been brought back from arctic waters on the Lady Jane by its commander, Captain Fleming.

 

NEWHM : G116, oil scoop

NEWHM : G115, adze

NEWHM : 1998.H250, lamp

 

 

 

 

 

These implements gave the people of Newcastle a rare glimpse into Inuit life.  The adze in particular is of interest, due its metal content. Iron was rare in the northern Arctic regions, but Inuit would salvage any kind of metal from shipwrecks, which is what appears to have happened with the adze.  It is thought to have been made using the mast hoops from the Aurora or Dexterity – ships that were wrecked on the west coast of the Davis Straits in 1821.

The Lady Jane appears in museum records once again 10 years later.  In 1837, Captain James Leask donated a full size Inuit kayak complete with oar, hunting implements and a sealskin float.

Captain Leask’s kayak and hunting equipment on display in the World Cultures gallery.

 

They are wonderful objects and enable us to see first-hand the high degree of skill needed by Inuit to create vital pieces of hunting equipment.  While they are remarkable historical artefacts, the fateful story of their collection is somewhat harrowing.  The Lady Jane had set sail in 1835, but by December the ship was frozen in sea ice near Greenland.  The ship finally returned to Newcastle in March 1836, by which time 27 of the crew had died from scurvy and other illnesses. The deprivations the ship’s crew underwent during that winter was dreadful.  James Williamson from South Shields was a young doctor on board during this time, and his journal notes many harrowing experiences.  On his return to Newcastle, Captain Leask was accused of incompetence by his surviving crew.  Although a public enquiry was conducted into the disaster, Captain James Leask was completely exonerated of all charges.

Another famous Newcastle whaling ship also appears in museum records.  The Lord Gambier was brought into the whaling trade in 1831.  At 407 tonnes, she was an even bigger vessel than the Lady Jane.  Captain Richard Warham was commander of the Lord Gambier and he brought back many artefacts and specimens from his voyages to the Arctic, including a beautiful Inuit seal skin shoe, and more famously Eric the Polar Bear.

Captain Richard Warham. Credit: NHSN

 

NEWHM : M0934, Polar Bear on display in Living Planet gallery.  Shot by a crew member of the Lord Gambier in the Davis Straits, off Greenland, 1835

NEWHM : G111, Inuit shoe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the early 1840s, the whaling industry was in serious decline on Tyneside.  The market for whale oil was decreasing and there had been too many disasters in Arctic waters where ships had been crushed by sea ice.  Combined with a dramatic fall in whale numbers around Greenland, it meant that too many voyages were unproductive, forcing ship-owners to review their trade.  By 1842, the Lord Gambier had been withdrawn from whaling activities along with another Tyneside-based whaler, the Grenville Bay, leaving the Lady Jane as the only active whaling vessel operating from Newcastle.  She was destroyed in 1849, crushed by sea ice on her final whaling voyage.

The Lord Gambier, Lady Jane and Grenville Bay whaling in the Arctic, by John Wilson Carmichael

 

The Inuit material that whaling ships brought back to Newcastle are powerful historical objects, offering us an insight into a way of life that existed 200 years ago for the peoples of the Arctic regions.  Little could the Tyneside whalermen know all those years ago that the “souvenirs” of their voyages would be so important and highly regarded in the 21st century.

 

 

This research was made possible by a Headley Fellowship