Tag: History

Feb 17 2016

Book Review: The Honourable Company by John Keay

thehonourablecompanyI’ve been reading a lot of books about naturalists who have been on great expeditions: Alexander von Humboldt, Charles Darwin, Joseph Banks and the like. This book, The Honourable Company by John Keay, is a bit of a diversion into great expeditions for commercial purposes. Such expeditions form the context, and “infrastructure” in which scientific expeditions take place. The book is a history of the English East India Company, founded in the early 17th century with a charter from the English sovereign to conduct trade in the Far East (China, Japan, Java) and India.

It is somewhat chastening to realise the merchants had been exploring the world for one hundred years (and the Spanish and Portuguese for nearer 200 years) before the scientific missions really got going in the 18th century.

The book is divided into four parts each covering periods of between 40 and 80 years, within each part there is a further subdivision into geographical areas: the East India Company had interests at one time or another from Java, Japan and China in the Far East to Calcutta, Bombay and Surat in India to Mocha in the Middle East.

The East India Company was chartered in 1600, following the pattern of the (slightly) earlier Muscovy and Levant Companies which sought a North West passage to the Far East and trade with Turkey respectively. At the time the Spanish and Portuguese were dominating long distant trade routes. The Dutch East India Company was formed shortly after the English, and would go on to be rather more successful. The Company offered investors the opportunity to combine together to fund a ship on a commercial journey. The British Crown gave the Company exclusive rights to arrange such trade expeditions.

Initially the aim was to bring back lucrative spices from the Far East, in practice the trade shifted to India initially and in its later years, to China and the import of tea. The Dutch were more military assertive in the Far East where spices like nutmeg and pepper were sourced.

Once again I’m struck by the amount of death involved in long distance expeditions. It seems western Europeans had been projecting themselves across the oceans with 50% mortality rates from sometime in the early 16th century to the end of the 18th century. For the East India company, many of their factors – the local representatives – were to die in their placements of tropical diseases.

In the early years investors bought into individual expeditions with successive expeditions effectively competing with each other for trade, this was unproductive and subsequently investment was in the Company as a whole. Although it is worth noting that even in the later years of the Company in India the different outposts in Madras, Bombay and so forth were not averse to acting independently and even in opposition to each others will, if not interests. Alongside the Company’s official trade the employee’s engaged in a great deal of unofficial activity for their own profit, this was known as the “country trade”.

The East India Company’s activities in India led to the British colonisation of the country. For a long time the Company made a fairly good effort at not being an invading force, basically seeing it as being bad for trade. This changed during the first half of the 18th century where the Company became increasingly drawn into military action and political intrigue either with local leaders against third parties or in proxy battles with other European powers with which the home country was at war. Ultimately this lead to the decline of the Company since the British Government saw them acting increasingly as a colonial power and saw this as their purview. This was enacted in law through the Regulating Act in 1773 and East India Company Act of 1784 which introduced a Board of Control overseeing the Company’s activities in India.

Keay is very much focussed on the activities of the Company, the records it kept and previous histories, so it is a little difficult to discern what the locals would have made of the Company. He comments that there has been a tendency to draw a continuous thread from the early trading activities of the Company to British India in the mid-19th century and onwards but seems to feel these links are over-emphasised.

India is the main focus of the book despite the importance of China, tea and the opium trade in the later years which is covered only briefly in the last few pages. I must admit I found the array of places and characters a bit overwhelming at times, not helped by my slightly vague sense of Indian geography. Its certainly a fascinating subject and it was nice to step outside my normal reading.    

Mar 05 2015

Book review: Engineering Empires by Ben Marsden and Crosbie Smith

engineering-empiresCommonly I read biographies of dead white men in the field of science and technology. My next book is related but a bit different: Engineering Empires: A Cultural History of Technology in Nineteenth-Century Britain by Ben Marsden and Crosbie Smith. This is a more academic tome but rather than focussing on a particular dead white man they are collected together in a broader story. A large part of the book is about steam engines with chapters on static steam engines, steamships and railways but alongside this are chapters on telegraphy and mapping and measurement.

The book starts with a chapter on mapping and measurement,  there’s a lot of emphasis here on measuring the earth’s magnetic field. In the eighteen and nineteenth centuries there was some hope that maps of magnetic field variation might provide help in determining the longitude. The subject makes a reprise later on in the discussion on steamships. The problem isn’t so much the steam but that steamships were typically iron-hulled which throws compass measurements awry unless careful precautions are taken. This was important as steamships were promoted for their claimed superior safety over sailing vessels, but risked running aground on the reef of dodgy compass behaviour in inshore waters. The social context for this chapter is the rise of learned societies to promote such work, the British Association for the Advancement of Science is central here, and is a theme through the book. In earlier centuries the Royal Society was more important.

The next three chapters cover steam power, first in the factory and the mine then in boats and trains. Although James Watt plays a role in the development of steam power, the discussion here is broader covering Ericsson’s caloric engine amongst many other things. Two themes of steam are the professionalisation of the steam engineer, and efficiency. “Professionalisation” in the sense that when businessmen made investments in these relatively capital intensive devices they needed confidence in what they were buying into. A chap that appeared to have just knocked something up in his shed didn’t cut it. Students of physics will be painfully aware of thermodynamics and the theoretical efficiency of engines. The 19th century was when this field started, and it was of intense economic importance. For a static engine efficiency is important because it reduces running costs. For steamships efficiency is crucial, less coal for the same power means you don’t run out of steam mid-ocean!

Switching the emphasis of the book from people to broader themes casts the “heroes” in a new light. It becomes more obvious that Isambard Kingdom Brunel is a bit of an outlier, pushing technology to the limits and sometimes falling off the edge. The Great Eastern was a commercial disaster only gaining a small redemption when it came to lying transatlantic telegraph cables. Success in this area came with the builders of more modest steamships dedicated to particular tasks such as the transatlantic mail and trips to China.

The book finishes with a chapter on telegraphy, my previous exposure to this was via Lord Kelvin who had been involved in the first transatlantic electric telegraphs. The precursor to electric telegraphy was optical telegraphy which had started to be used in France towards the end of the 18th century. Transmission speeds for optical telegraphy were surprisingly high: Paris to Toulon (on the Mediterranean coast), a distance of more than 800km, in 20 minutes. In Britain the telegraph took off when it was linked with the railways which provided a secure, protected route by which to send the lines. Although the first inklings of electric telegraphy came in in mid-18th century it didn’t get going until 1840 or so but by 1880 it was a globe spanning network crossing the Atlantic and reaching the Far east overland. It’s interesting to see the mention of Julius Reuter and Associated Press back at the beginning of electric telegraphy, they are still important names now.

In both steamships and electric telegraphy Britain led the way because it had an Empire to run, and communication is important when you’re running an empire. Electric telegraphy was picked up quickly on the eastern seaboard of the US as well.

I must admit I was a bit put off by the introductory chapter of Engineering Empires which seemed to be a bit heavy and spoke in historological jargon but once underway I really enjoyed the book. I don’t know whether this was simply because I got used to the style or the style changed. As proper historians Marsden and Smith do not refer to scientists in the earlier years of the 19th century as such, they are “gentlemen of science” and later “men of science”. They sound a bit contemptuous of the “gentlemen of science”. The book is a bit austere and worthy looking. Overall I much prefer this manner of presentation of the wider context rather than a focus on a particular individual.

Oct 23 2014

Book review: Pompeii by Mary Beard

For a change I have been reading about Roman history, in the form of Pompeii: The Life of a Roman Town by Mary Beard.

Mary Beard is a Cambridge classicist. I think it helps having seen her on TV, jabbing her figure at a piece of Roman graffiti, explaining what it meant and why it was important with obvious enthusiasm. For me it gave the book a personality.

I imagine I am not unusual in gaining my knowledge of Roman culture via some poorly remembered caricature presented in pre-16 history classes at school and films including the Life of Brian, Gladiator and Up Pompeii.

Pompeii is an ancient Italian town which was covered in a 4-6 metre blanket of ash by an eruption of nearby Vesuvius in 79 AD. Beneath the ash the town was relatively undamaged. It was rediscovered in 1599 but excavations only started in the mid 18th century. These revealed a very well-preserved town including much structure, artwork and the remains of the residents. The bodies of the fallen left voids in the ash which were reconstructed by filling them with plaster.

The book starts with a salutatory reminder that Pompeii wasn’t a town frozen in normal times but one in extremis as it succumbed to a volcanic eruption. We can’t assume that the groups of bodies found or the placement of artefacts represent how they might have been found in normal daily life.

There are chapters on the history of the city, the streets, homes, painting, occupations, administration, various bodily pleasures (food, wine, sex and bathing), entertainment (theatre and gladiators) and temples.

I’ve tended to think of the Roman’s as a homogeneous blob who occupied a chunk of time and space. But this isn’t the case, the pre-Roman history of the town features writing in the Oscan language. The Greek writer Strabo, working in the first century BC wrote about a sequence of inhabitants: Oscans, Etruscans, Pelasgians and then Samnites – who also spoke Oscan.

Much of what we know of Pompeii seems to stem from the graffiti found all about the remains. It would be nice to learn a bit more about this evidence since it seems important, and clearly something different is going on from what we find in modern homes and cities. If I look around homes I know today then none feature graffiti, granted there is much writing on paper but not on the walls.

From the depths of my memory I recall the naming of various rooms in the Roman bath house but it turns out these names may not have been in common usage amongst the Romans. Furthermore, the regimented progression from hottest to coldest bath may also be somewhat fanciful. Something I also didn’t appreciate was that the meanings of some words in ancient Latin are not known, or are uncertain. It’s obvious in retrospect that this might be the case but caveats on such things are rarely heard.

Beard emphasises that there has been a degree of “over-assumption” in the characterisation of the various buildings in Pompeii. For instance on some reckonings there are huge numbers of bars and brothels. So for instance, anything with a counter and some storage jars gets labelled a bar. Anything with phallic imagery gets labelled a brothel, the Pompeiian’s were very fond of phallic imagery. A more conservative treatment brings these numbers down enormously.

I am still mystified by the garum, the fermented fish sauce apparently loved by many, it features moderately in the book since the house of a local manufacturer is one of the better preserved ones, and one which features very explicit links to his trade. It sounds absolutely repulsive.

The degree of preservation in Pompeii is impressive, the scene that struck me most vividly was in The House of Painters at Work. In this case the modern label for the house describes exactly what was going on, other houses are labelled with the names of dignitaries present when a house was uncovered, or after key objects found in the house. It is not known what the inhabitants called the houses, or even the streets. Deliveries seemed to go by proximity to prominent buildings.

I enjoyed Pompeii, the style is readable and it goes to some trouble to explain the uncertainty and subtlety in interpreting ancient remains.

Once again I regret buying a non-fiction book in ebook form, the book has many illustrations including a set of colour plates and I still find it clumsy looking at them in more detail or flicking backwards and forwards in an ereader.

Sep 21 2014

Book review: Falling Upwards by Richard Holmes

fallingupwardsI read Richard Holmes book The Age of Wonder some time ago, in it he made a brief mention of balloons in the 18th century. It pricked my curiosity, so when I saw his book Falling Upwards, all about balloons, I picked it up.

The chapters of Falling Upwards cover a series of key points in the development of ballooning, typically hydrogen balloons from the last couple of decades of the 18th century to the early years of the 20th century. One of the early stories is a flight from my own home city, Chester. Thomas Baldwin recorded his flight in Airopaidia: Containing the Narrative of a Balloon Excursion from Chester, the eighth of September, 1785. The book does not have the air of a rigorous history of ballooning, it introduces technical aspects but not systematically. It is impressionistic to a degree, and as a result a rather pleasant read. For Holmes the artistic and social impact of balloons are as important as the technical.

In the beginning there was some confusion as to the purposes to which a balloon might be put, early suggestions included an aid to fast messengers who would stay on the ground to provide but use a small balloon to give them “10 league boots”, there were similar suggestions for helping heavy goods vehicles.

In practice for much of the period covered balloons were used mainly for entertainment – both for pleasure trips but also aerial displays involving acrobatics and fireworks. Balloons were also used for military surveillance.  Holmes provides chapters on their use in the American Civil War by the Union side (and very marginally by the Confederates). And in the Franco-Prussian war they were used to break the Prussian siege of Paris (or at least bend it). The impression gained though is that they were something like novelty items for surveillance. By the time of the American Civil War in the 1860’s it wasn’t routine or obvious that one must use balloon surveillance, it wasn’t a well established technique. This was likely a limitation of both the balloons themselves and the infrastructure required to get them in the air.

Balloons gave little real utility themselves, except in exceptional circumstances, but they made a link to heavier-than-air flight. They took man into the air, and showed the possibilities but for practical purposes generally didn’t deliver – largely due to their unpredictability. To a large extent you have little control of where you will land in a balloon once you have gone up. Note, for example, that balloons were used to break the Prussian siege of Paris in the outbound direction only. A city the size of Paris is too small a target to hit, even for highly motivated fliers.

Nadar (pseudonym of Gaspard-Félix Tournachon), who lived in Paris, was one of the big promoters of just about anything. He fought a copyright battle with his brother over his, adopted, signature. Ballooning was one of his passions, he inspired Jules Verne to starting writing science fiction. His balloon, Le Géant, launched in 1863 was something of a culmination in ballooning – it was enormous – 60 metres high but served little purpose other than to highlight the limitations of the form – as was Nadar’s intent.

From a scientific point of view Falling Upwards covers James Glaisher and Henry Coxwell’s flights in the mid-nineteenth century. I was impressed by Glaisher’s perseverance in taking manual observations at a rate of one every 9 seconds throughout a 90 minute flight. Glaisher had been appointed by the British Association for the Advancement of Science to do his work, he was Superintendent for Meteorology and Magnetism at the Royal Greenwich Observatory. With his pilot Henry Coxwell he made a record-breaking ascent to approximately 8,800 meters in 1862, a flight they were rather lucky to survive. Later in the 19th century other scientists were to start to identify the layers in the atmosphere. Discovering that it is only a thin shell – 5 miles or so thick which is suitable for life.

The final chapter is on the Salomon Andrée’s attempt to reach the North Pole by balloon, as with so many polar stories it ends in cold, lonely, perhaps avoidable death for Andrée and his two colleagues. Their story was discovered when the photos and journals were recovered from White Island in the Artic Circle, some 30 years after they died.

Falling Upwards is a rather conversational history. Once again I’m struck by the long periods for technology to reach fruition. It’s true that from a technology point of view that heavier-than-air flight is very different from ballooning. But it’s difficult to imagine doing the former without the later.

Sep 27 2013

Book Review: Georgian London–Into the Streets by Lucy Inglis

GeorgianLondonI saw the gestation of Georgian London: Into the streets by Lucy Inglis, so now it is born – I had to buy it!

Lucy Inglis has been blogging about Georgian London for much of the last four years, and I have been reading since then. Her focus is the stories of everyday folk, little snippets from contemporary records surrounded by her extensive knowledge of the period.

The book starts with some scene settings, in particular the end of the Restoration (1660), the Plague (1665), the Great Fire of London (1666) and the Glorious Revolution (1688). These events shape the stage for the Georgian period which covers the years 1714 to 1837, named for the succession of King George’s who reigned through the period marked by the death of William IV (don’t ask me).

London is then covered geographically, using John Rocque’s rather fabulous 1746 map as ornamentation. What is obvious to even those such as myself who are broadly ignorant of the geography of London is how much smaller London was then. Areas such as Islington, which I consider to be in the heart of London were on the edge of the city at the time, rural locations with farming and so forth. The period saw a huge expansion in the city from a population of 500,000 at the beginning of the period to 1.5 million by 1831 which much of the growth occurring in the second half of the 18th century.

Georgian London is somewhat resistant to my usual style of “review” which involves combining the usual elements of review and a degree of summary to remind me of what I read. Essentially there is just too much going on for summarising to work! So I will try some sort of vague impressionistic views:

It struck me how the nature of poverty changed with urbanisation; prior to a move to the city the poor could rely to some extent on the support of their parish, moving to London broke these ties and, particularly for women supporting children, this led to destitution. Men could easily travel to find work, either back home or elsewhere – a women with a child couldn’t do this.

The role of the state was rather smaller than it is now, when the time came to build Westminster Bridge, there was no government funding but rather a series of lotteries. The prize for one of these was the Jernegan cistern, a wine container made from quarter of a ton of silver with a capacity of 60 gallons! Another indicator of the smaller size of the state was that in 1730 a quarter of state income was from tax on alcohol, much of it on gin. Currently alcohol duties account for about £10billion per year which is about 1.5% of the total government spending.

Businesswomen make regular appearances through the book, for example such as Elinor James who was the widow of a printer, Thomas James but published under her own name. She was both a speaker and a pamphleteer, working at the beginning of the 18th century. At the end of the century, the younger Eleanor Coade, was running a thriving business making artificial stone (Coade stone). She’d first come to London in 1769, with her mother, also Eleanor following the death of her father.

At the same time that a quarter of all government revenue came from alcohol duties, a quarter of all gin distillers were women. Alcohol caused many social problems, particularly in the second quarter of the 18th century, as recorded by Hogarth’s “Gin Line”. The vice of the upper classes in the second half of the 18th century was gambling.

The Tower of London housed exotic animals for many years, providing a money-raising visitor attraction through the Georgian period, only losing it status in 1835 on the creation of London Zoo in Regent’s Park. A few years earlier, in 1832, the Tower of London hosted 280 beasts of varying types but it was becoming clear it was an unsuitable location to keep animals. The British were also becoming more aware of animal cruelty, with animal baiting becoming less popular through the Georgian period – culminating with the Act to Prevent the Cruel and Improper Treatment in 1822, and the formation of the RSPCA a couple years later.

It seems useful to know that London’s first street numbers where introduced in 1708.

The voice of the book is spot-on, conversational but authoritative, providing colour without clumsiness. There are no footnotes but there are extensive notes at the end of the book, along with a bibliography. For someone trying to write a blog post like this, the index could do with extension!

It’s difficult to write a review of a book by someone you know, all I can say is that if I didn’t like it I would have not written this. Don’t just take it from me – see what the Sunday Sport thought!