Tag: women writers

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!

Jun 29 2013

Book review: Chasing Venus by Andrea Wulf

ChasingVenusI’ve been reading more of adventurous science of the Age of Enlightenment, more specifically Andrea Wulf’s book Chasing Venus: The Race to Measure the Heavens the scientific missions to measure the transit of Venus in 1761 and 1769.

Transits occur when a planet, typically Venus, lies directly between the earth and the Sun. During a transit Venus appears as a small black disc on the face of the sun. Since it’s orbit is also inside that of earth Mercury also transits the sun. Solar eclipses are similar but in this case the obscuring body is the moon, and since it is much closer to earth it completely covers the face of the sun.

Transits of Venus occur in pairs, 8 years apart separated by 100 or so years, they are predictable astronomical events. Edmund Halley predicted the 1761/1769 pair in 1716 and in addition proposed that the right type of observation would give a measure of the distance from the earth to the Sun. Once this distance is known distances of all the other planets from the sun can be calculated. In the same way as a solar eclipse can only be observed from a limited number of places on earth, the transit of Venus can only be observed from a limited number of places on earth. The observations required are the time at which Venus starts to cross the face of the sun, ingress, and the time at which it leaves, egress. These events are separated by several hours. In order to calculate the distance to the sun observations must be made at widely separate locations.

These timings had to be globally calibrated: some one in, say, London, had to be able to convert the times measured in Tahiti to the time London. This amounts to knowing precisely where the measurement was made – it is the problem of the longitude. At this time the problem of the longitude was solved given sufficient time, for land-based locations. It was still a challenge at sea.

At the time of the 1761/69 transits globe spanning travel was no easy matter, when Captain Cook landed on Tahiti in 1769 his was only the third European vessel to have done so, other ships had arrived in the two previous years; travel to the East Indies although regular was still hazardous. Even travel to the far North of Europe was a challenge, similarly across Russia to the extremes of Siberia. Therefore much of the book is given over to stories of long, arduous travel not infrequently ending in death.

Most poignant for me was the story of Jean-Baptiste Chappe d’Auteroche who managed to observe the entirety of both transits in Siberia and California but died of typhus shortly after observing the lunar eclipse critical to completing the observations he had made of Venus. His fellow Frenchman, Guillaume Joseph Hyacinthe Jean-Baptiste Le Gentil, observed the first transit onboard a ship on the way to Mauritius (his measurements were useless), remained in the area of the Indian Ocean until the second transit which he failed to observe because of the cloud cover and returned to France after 10 years, his relatives having declared him dead and the Académie des Sciences ceasing to pay him, assuming the same. Charles Green, observing for the Royal Society from Tahiti with Captain Cook and Joseph Banks, died after falling ill in Jakarta (then Batavia) after he had made his observations.

The measurements of the first transit in 1761 were plagued by uncertainty, astronomers had anticipated that they would be able to measure the times of ingress and egress with high precision but found that even observers at the same location with the same equipment measured times differing by 10s of seconds. We often see sharp, static images of the sun but viewed live through a telescope the picture is quite different; particularly close to the horizon the view of the sun the sun boils and shimmers. This is a result of thermal convection in the earth’s atmosphere, and is known as “seeing”. It’s not something I’d appreciated until I’d looked at the sun myself through a telescope. This “seeing” is what caused the problems with measuring the transit times, the disk of Venus did not cross a sharp boundary into the face of the sun, it slides slowly into a turbulent mess.

The range of calculated earth-sun distances for the 1761 measurements was 77,100,000 to 98,700,000 miles which spans the modern value of 92,960,000 miles. This represents a 22% range. By 1769 astronomers had learned from their experience, and the central estimate for the earth-sun distance by Thomas Hornsby was 93,726,000 miles, a discrepancy of less than 1% compared to the modern value. The range of the 1769 measurements was 4,000,000 miles which is only 4% of the earth-sun distance.

By the time of the second transit there was a great deal of political and public interest in the project. Catherine the Great was very keen to see Russia play a full part in the transit observations, in England George III directly supported the transit voyages and other European monarchs were equally keen.

Chasing Venus is of the same theme as a number of books I have reviewed previously: The Measure of the Earth, The Measure of All Things, Map of a Nation, and The Great Arc. The first two of these are on the measurement of the size, and to a degree, the shape of the Earth. The first in Ecuador in 1735, the second in revolutionary France. The Great Arc and Map of a Nation are the stories of the mapping by triangulation of India and Great Britain. In these books it is the travel, and difficult conditions that are the central story. The scientific tasks involved are simply explained, although challenging to conduct with accuracy at the time they were made and technically complex in practice.

There is a small error in the book which caused me initial excitement, the first transit of Venus was observed in 1639 by Jeremiah Horrocks and William Crabtree, Horrocks being located in Hoole, Cheshire according to Wulf. Hoole, Cheshire is suburb of Chester about a mile from where I am typing this. Sadly, Wulf is wrong, Horrocks appears to have made his observations either at Carr House in Bretherton or Much Hoole (a neighbouring village) both in Lancashire and 50 miles from where I sit.

Perhaps unfairly I found this book a slightly repetitive list of difficult journeys conducted first in 1761, and then in 1769. It brought home to me the level of sacrifice for these early scientific missions, and indeed global trade, simply in the separation from ones family for extended periods but quite often in death.

Mar 26 2013

Book review: The Dinosaur Hunters by Deborah Cadbury

DinosaurHuntersA rapid change of gear for my book reviewing: having spent several months reading “The Eighth Day of Creation” I have completed “The Dinosaur Hunters” by Deborah Cadbury in only a couple of weeks. Is this a bad thing? Yes, and no – it’s been nice to read a book that rattles along at a good pace, is gripping and doesn’t have me leaping to make notes at every page – the downside is that I feel I have consumed a literary snack rather than a meal.

The Dinosaur Hunters covers the initial elucidation of the nature of large animal fossils, principally of dinosaurs, from around the beginning of the 19th century to just after the publication of Darwin’s “Origin of the Species” in 1859. The book is centred around Gideon Mantell (1790-1852) who first described the Iguanodon and was an expert in the geology of the Weald, at the same time running a thriving medical practice in his home town of Lewes. Playing the part of Mantell’s nemesis is Richard Owen (1804-1892), who formally described the group of species, the Dinosauria, and was to be the driving force in the founding of the Natural History Museum in the later years of the 19th century. Smaller parts are played by Mary Anning (1799-1847), fossil collector based in Lyme Regis; William Buckland (1784-1856) who described Megalosaurus – the first of the dinosaurs and spent much of his life trying to reconcile his Christian faith with new geological findings; George Cuvier (1769-1832) the noted French anatomist who related fossil anatomy to modern animal anatomy and identified the existence of extinctions (although he was a catastrophist who saw this as evidence of different epochs of extinction rather than a side effect of evolution); Charles Lyell (1897-1875) a champion of uniformitarianism (the idea that the modern geology is the result of processes visible today continuing over great amounts of time); Charles Darwin (1809-1882) who really needs no introduction, and Thomas Huxley (1825-1895) a muscular proponent of Darwin’s evolutionary theory.

For me a recurring theme was that of privilege and power in science, often this is portrayed as something which disadvantaged women but in this case Mantell is something of a victim too, as was William Smith as described in “The Map that Changed the World”. Mantell was desperate for recognition but held back by his full-time profession as a doctor in a minor town and his faith that his ability would lead automatically to recognition. Owen, on the other hand, with similar background (and prodigious ability) went first to St Bartholomew’s hospital and then the Royal College of Surgeon’s where he appears to have received better patronage but in addition was also brutal and calculating in his ambition. Ultimately Owen over-reached himself in his scheming, and although he satisfied his desire to create a Natural History Museum, in death he left little personal legacy – his ability trumped by his dishonesty in trying to obliterate his opponents.

From a scientific point of view the thread of the book is from the growing understanding of stratigraphy i.e. the consistent sequence of rock deposits through Great Britain and into Europe; the discovery of large fossil animals which had no modern equivalent; the discovery of an increasing range of these prehistoric remnants each with their place in the stratigraphy and the synthesis of these discoveries in Darwin’s theory of evolution. Progress in the intermediate discovery of fossils was slow because in contrast to the the early fossils of marine species such as icthyosaurus and plesiosaurus which were discovered substantially intact later fossils of large land animals were found fragmented in Southern England, which made identifying the overall size of such species and even the numbers of species present in your pile of fossils difficult.

These scientific discoveries collided with a social thread which saw the clergy deeply involved in scientific discovery at the beginning, becoming increasingly discomforted with the account of the genesis of life in Scripture being incompatible with the findings in the stone. This ties in with a scientific community trying to make their discoveries compatible with Scripture and what they perceived to be the will of God with the schism between the two eventually coming to a head by the publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species.

Occasionally the author drops into a bit of first person narration which I must admit to finding a bit grating, perhaps because for people long dead it is largely inference. I’d have been very happy to have chosen this book for a long journey or a holiday, I liked the wider focus on a story rather than an individual.

References

My Evernotes

Jul 25 2012

Book review: A computer called LEO by Georgina Ferry

AComputerCalledLEOThis is a review of “A Computer called LEO” by Georgina Ferry, recounting the story of the first computer developed for business use by J. Lyons & Co, the teashop and catering company.

Lyons formed in 1884, a spin-off from a family tobacconist company whose traveling salesman realised that there were few reliable teashops around the country, furthermore catering at large events such as the Great Exhibition was poor. Over the next 30 years or so the business grew, with a chain of teashops, and smarter establishments such as the Corner Houses and Trocadero. The teashops were supplied by Lyons own manufacturing and delivery service.

By the 1930s Lyons had approximately 30,000 workers, as such it was one of Britain’s larger employers. 300 clerks were used to tot up daily takings on mechanical calculators. Clerical work had risen in important during the second half of the 19th century with numbers rising from 70,000 in Britain in 1851 to 2 million in 1901. The company had a department of Systems Research led by a Cambridge mathematician, John Simmons, who the company had recruited in 1923, the hiring of such a graduate was a novelty at the time. The Systems Research department was interested in the efficient running of the business.

By this time various items of office machinery were commonplace, things such as filing cabinets, typewriters, mechanical calculators, and punch card readers. Telephone exchanges were in place, the electronic valve had been invented in the early years of the 20th century and magnetic storage devices were starting to become available. By the 1930s people such Oliver Standingford in Lyon’s Stock Department were talking about machines which would combine these elements, although he was not clear on the detail of how this would be done.

The Second World War then intervened, Lyons cut table service from its teashops as labour went short. Various people gained useful experience in electrical engineering through the wartime developments in radar, and possibly codebreaking. We now know that Colossus, a computer used for code breaking, was built at Bletchley Park during the war but it did not become public knowledge until 1974. In the US ENIAC had been developed at the Moore School in Philadelphia to do artillery range calculations. This was not a secret and immediately after the war, Oliver Standingford and Raymond Thompson visited from Lyons; they had a broad brief to investigate American business methods but it was ENIAC which really captivated them. Fortunately, their US trip put them in touch with more local expertise in the form of Douglas Hartree at Cambridge University who was building a computer, EDSAC, for the Mathematical Laboratory.

Lyons decided fairly quickly to construct their own computer, which was to be based on the EDSAC machine; US machines such as they were could not be purchased because of currency restrictions and there were no computer manufacturers in the UK. From the start LEO I (the first computer) was different, Simmons saw the computer fitting into a system of “scientific management” and as such LEO was crafted to exactly fit the role he foresaw for it based on detailed knowledge of the company’s processes. In some senses computing for business was more demanding than the computation done in the Mathematical Laboratory and other scientific laboratories: business computing had large demands for input and output (imagine a payroll system – it needs to read in details of each employee and print out the results), it had lower tolerance for failure (payroll failing to run has a serious impact on employees) and calculations could be more “complex” than mathematical ones in the sense that more steps in calculation and more conditionality was required. It was at Lyons that the art of flowcharting was developed. The first live duty that LEO carried out was in 1951, it was made public in 1955. It’s interesting to note that Charles Babbage had highlighted the potential for automation in both manufacturing and mathematical operations in his book “On the Economy of Machinery and Manufacturers”, published in 1832.

There were to be two further LEO computers, developed by a separate company, Leo Computers Ltd however things did not go well. The computers themselves were technically advanced, and the Leo Computers method of going into a business and closely examining their processes before writing programs and delivering a system combining both hardware and software usually had excellent results. However, this had the unfortunate side-effect of losing their best staff to their clients. Other problems were afoot: Leo Computers Ltd although nominally a separate company was under-resourced both financially and in personnel with development engineers also acting as salesman. The parent company, Lyons was struggling – victim of a family business mentality which put increasingly useless family members at the heads of divisions.

In 1964 Leo Computers Ltd was merged with English Electric, with Lyons divesting itself of any responsibility, following this union the LEO line died although the final computers in the series were installed by the Post Office, and continued to run there, in places, until 1981.

In contrast in the 1960s IBM were able to make an investment of $5billion on their System 360 computers – a compatible range designed to fit every need. They had a ready market in the US both of businesses willing to buy, unlike their British counterparts, and a government who bought locally first. Faced with this opposition, the British computer industry struggled to compete.

Focusing on the LEO computer makes this a human scale story with central cast of characters, but it also provides a wider view of the field in the years after the Second World War. The book makes clear how J. Lyons & Co had a system of management, and personnel in place which were ripe for computerisation; the developments in the 1930s made it clear that electronic computers were in the air. Large scale failures of computer systems in both public and private sectors are onging, John Simmons was rather insightful in his intimate coupling between business process and software system.

References

1. My Evernotes are here

2. The web page of the Leo Computer Society is http://www.leo-computers.org.uk/

Mar 18 2012

Book Review: Decoding the Heavens by Jo Marchant

DecodingtheHeavens“Decoding the Heavens” by Jo Marchant is the story of the Antikythera Mechanism, a mechanical astronomical calculator dating from around 100BC which predicts the motions of heavenly bodies including the sun, moon and various planets. The best way to understand how the device worked is through videos relating to this book (here) and, rather more slickly (here).

The Antikythera Mechanism was recovered off the coast of the island which provides its name in 1900. The wreck from which it was recovered was also carrying a large number of impressive bronze and marble statues, for example the Antikythera Ephebe. It is believed it was sailing from the Asia Minor coast to Rome, carrying the spoils of war. The wreck lies at a depth of 60 metres which is deep for the technology available at the time, the distinctive metal-helmeted diving suit. It was discovered by the crew of Captain Krontos, who were sponge-divers. As such they did a very risky job, Marchant reports that between 1886 and 1910 around 10,000 divers died from the bends and a further 20,000 were paralysed.

Once they had discovered the wreck they reported it to the Greek government who organised the salvage operation, at the time it was one of the first marine archaeological salvages – it was preceded  in 1884 by a speculative operation in the straits of Salamis which had recovered little. By the 1950s hundreds of wrecks were known in the Mediterranean. Marchant states that this is the first ever attempt to salvage artefacts from a sunken ship, I’m sceptical of this claim – it’s only true for very narrow definitions of each word – Edmond Halley, for example, had a company offering to salvage treasure from sunken ships in the 1690s.

It is curious how little regarded the Anthikythera Mechanism has been over the hundred or so years since its discovery. A measure of this is that the Athens National Museum, where it is kept, were still finding bits of it in 2005! This re-discovery is in some sense understandable, the Mechanism presents a rather unassuming appearance when compared to the statues with which it was found furthermore curating appears to have sharpened its act up over the years. A second reason is that it almost has the air of a fake about it, no other mechanism of comparable complexity was known until around 1000AD, and there was little written evidence for the existence of such devices.

The book works through the interpretation of the mechanism chronologically by researcher, starting with the initial interpretations made by John Svoronos and Pericles Rediadis (1903), Konstantin Rados (1905), Albert Rehm (1907) and John Theophanidis (1934). These are covered quite briefly. These initial studies were based on an exterior view of the fragments and small amounts of visible text, of which more became visible as cleaning attempts were made. It’s worth highlighting here that the mechanism was covered in text, both labels and operating instructions although originally little of this text was discernable. From these studies the mechanism was related to astronomical equipment such as the astrolabe, but was clearly different since it had a more complex clockwork-like mechanism. This chronological approach means that the reader gets a fragmented view of the device (with reverses in interpretation), as the story unfolds. There is also a degree of dramatisation of the story (e.g. “Shit,” said Roger Hadland) scattered through the book, I must admit to finding these rather grating but they are relatively sparse.

After the initial investigations there was a hiatus, with interest appearing to restart in the 1950s possibly spurred by a visit by Jacque Cousteau to the wreck in 1953. Derek De Solla Price was the next to attempt an analysis aided by x-ray imaging of the mechanism which was not available in earlier times. Price was Professor of the History of Science at Yale, in addition to his work on the Antikythera Mechanism he also did early work on scientometrics and the Japanese atomic bomb effort. He finally published his analysis in “Gears from the Greeks” in 1974, this included a detailed description of how the mechanism might have operated based on the gearing made visible by x-ray imaging.

The next attempt at a reconstruction was made by Michael Wright, originally curator of the engineering collection at the Science Museum in work starting in the early 1980s. He was joined by Allan G Bromley, a computer scientist and historian who was also involved in the reconstruction of the the Babbage. They quickly realised that Price’s theoretical reconstruction was in places somewhat creative. Wright ultimately produced a physical reconstruction of the mechanism over a period of 20 or so years.

Most recently, commencing in around 1998) there has been a collaboration led by Mike Edmunds at Cardiff University (The Antikythera Mechanism Research Project). They were able to bring to bear better x-ray tomography which was even able to reveal the details of inscriptions inside the accreted masses of the mechanism fragments, alongside Polynomial Texture Mapping, a photographic technique utilising multiple lighting angles and reconstruction to provide maximum information from surface markings. With collaborators at the Athens Nation Museum they also had access to an additional major fragment which had recently been discovered. Their work was published in the journal Nature (here in 2006 and here in 2008).

The comparison between the Wright and Edmunds collaborations is intriguing, in terms of scientific prestige the Edmunds collaboration have published on the mechanism in Nature the premier general science journal. They are a large collaboration with the best equipment, and fit well within the conventional scientific context. Wright, and to a lesser extent Bromley, were different. Wright in particular comes over has being very hard done by in the process, working in his spare time on the mechanism, always apparently “junior” to Bromley (the formal academic) and ultimately being pipped to glory by the Edmunds collaboration. His story comes through because Marchant has clearly interviewed many of the participants, rather than relying on the published literature. From the point of view of the published literature, all that is really visible to the scientific world, Wright’s efforts were virtually invisible until long after he had started work on the Mechanism.

The “problem” for the earliest interpreters of the mechanism is that it was so utterly different from anything else available from the period. There were no other clockwork like devices and few mentions of them, indeed the next instances were thought to be around 1000AD – it looks like the Antikythera Mechanism was dropped into the past from elsewhere. Nowadays it can be seen that this isn’t true. Archimedes and Ctesibius had been making complex mechanical devices in the 3rd century BC, although there are no physical remnants and the written records are sparse. On the other side, mechanisms of this type were in existence through to 1000AD and from then clocks appeared very rapidly suggesting a pre-existing store of knowledge.

In ancient Greece it is believed there were hundreds of thousands of bronze statues, the number left today are in the hundreds, at most. What chance even a few hundred rather unassuming objects to survive? As for the written record, what survives from the period has been repeatedly transcribed to suit the prevailing conditions, and they did not seek detailed descriptions of recondite mechanics. Can you lay your hands on the blue prints for an NMR machine?

The Antikythera Mechanism would have been made on the basis of the astronomical observations of the Babylonians who preceded its Greek makers. They had no “mechanical” model of the motions of the stars but they had a long, deep observational record of their movements. I’m interested in the night sky, and I can’t tell you but the details of the phases of the moon, even where it rises and sets let alone the motions of other planets are a mystery to me in the intuitive sense (I know I can look them up). The ancients had little to do at night, other than look at the sky – I feel I’ve lost something through having so many distractions and a night sky obscured by light pollution.

Footnotes

My Evernote on the book contains page by page comments, and also some links to related material