Archive for the History Category

Random Shots of Montpellier

Posted in Biographical, History with tags , , , , on November 25, 2023 by telescoper

Having a few hours to spare this morning, I took a walk around Montpellier in the sunshine. I can tell you that the layout of the old part of the city, which hasn’t changed since mediaeval times, is a labyrinth in which it is very easy to get lost but if you’re not going anywhere in particular it’s fun wandering around. At night it’s very atmospheric too. Anyway, here are some random pics I took on the way. As you can see, the weather was lovely and you always get interesting shadows from the winter sun…

While I am on the blog, I thought I would mention one of Montpellier’s famous historical connections, Michel de Nostredame (1503-1566), more usually known as Nostradamus, who studied medicine at the University here for a while before he was expelled. I searched the Prophecies of Nostradamus which you can find online, and found no reference to my visit to Montpellier. Incidentally, the University of Montpellier was founded in 1220 so is one of the oldest universities in the world. La Tour de la Babotte was part of the fortifications of the old city and was later used for a time as an astronomical observatory.

P.S. the oldest remains in Montpellier are medieval. The Romans never settled here; the main settlement in the area was Maguelone, on the coast. The administrative centre of the region was moved to Montpellier, which is 10km inland, to avoid raids from pirates.

The Magician by Colm Tóibín

Posted in History, LGBTQ+, Literature with tags , , on November 17, 2023 by telescoper

Continuing my attempt to catch up on a backlog of reading I have now finished The Magician by Colm Tóibín. A couple of years ago I attended a Zoom event featuring the author Colm Tóibín talking about this book, which is a fictionalised account of the life of Thomas Mann. It’s taken me a ridiculous long time to get round to it, but it was worth the wait.

The life of Thomas Mann was colourful, to say the least. Born in the German city of Lübeck in 1875, Mann’s father was a wealthy merchant and his mother was from Brazil. His elder brother Heinrich Mann was also a novelist essayist and playwright of considerable reputation. Despite his barely concealed homosexuality, Thomas Mann married Katia Pringsheim in 1905, his wife seemingly not minding about his sexual orientation. He led a comfortable life until he began to see the signs of the coming descent of Europe into the First World War. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1929 and went into exile from Nazism in 1933, becoming an American citizen in 1944. In the post-War McCarthyite era he was made to feel less welcome in the USA for having visited East Germany and consequently under suspicion for communist sympathies. Not wanting to return to Germany, he spent most of the last years of his life in Zurich. He died in 1955 at the age of 80.

In some ways this work is reminiscent of The Dream of the Celt which I reviewed a few weeks ago, in that it’s a fictionalised biography, based partially on material found in diaries and with a theme of (partly) suppressed same-sex desire; several of his six offspring were gay or bisexual too. On the other hand I don’t think it’s accurate to think of this book so much as a biography of Thomas Mann but more of a biography of the late 19th and early 20th Century with Mann as the lens. In fact I finished the book without feeling that I knew very much at all about Thomas Mann’s character and personality. That’s probably deliberate as he seems to have cultivated an air of mystery surrounding himself. We follow Mann and his large family through the events leading up to both World Wars, and the effect these tumultuous times had on his siblings and offspring. His family endured more than its fair share of tragedy, with multiple suicides and other heartbreak.

An interesting aspect is the collection of little character sketches this book gives us of famous people with whom Mann interacted in his life. Mann was himself very famous indeed both in Europe and America. Tóibín gives us (not always flattering) views, through Mann’s eyes of, among many others: Gustav Mahler, Albert Einstein, Eleanor Roosevelt, Arnold Schoenberg, Christopher Isherwood and W.H. Auden. Incidentally, Auden married Mann’s daughter Erika so she could get British citizenship; the marriage was never consummated.

It’s a beautiful book, written in a style that frequently seems to mimic Mann’s own prose. Juxtaposing the ideas in his novels with the events happening when they were being written, both within his own family and in the wider world, provides fascinating insights. I have only read a couple of Thomas Mann’s books: Death in Venice and The Magic Mountain. Knowing more about his life, I now want to read these again and also read the others.

And so as one book disappears from my reading list, several more appear…

P.S. This is the novel in which the Mann family sits around listening to a gramophone record of In fernem Land sung by Leo Slezak I mentioned a few days ago.

To the Warmongers – Siegfried Sassoon

Posted in History, Poetry, Politics with tags , , on November 6, 2023 by telescoper

As we approach Remembrance Sunday in a time of rising conflict, it seems apt to post the following poem written by Siegfried Sassoon, called the To the Warmongers:

I’m back again from hell
With loathsome thoughts to sell;
Secrets of death to tell;
And horrors from the abyss.
Young faces bleared with blood,
Sucked down into the mud,
You shall hear things like this,
Till the tormented slain
Crawl round and once again,
With limbs that twist awry
Moan out their brutish pain,
As for the fighters pass them by.
For you our battles shine
With triumph half-divine;
And the glory of the dead
Kindles in each proud eye.
But a curse is on my head,
That shall not be unsaid,
And the wounds in my heart are red,
For I have watched them die.

Modern Ireland 1600-1972 by R. F. Foster

Posted in History, Literature with tags , , , , on October 30, 2023 by telescoper

My attempt to catch up with a backlog of reading while on sabbatical has now brought me to Modern Ireland, by R.F. Foster, the paperback version of which, shown above, I bought way back in 2018 but have only just finished reading. In the following I’ll describe the scope of the book and make a few observations.

The book was first published in 1988 so it obviously can’t deal with more recent events such as the Good Friday Agreement. The narrative stops almost 50 years ago in 1972, the year of Bloody Sunday and just before Ireland joined the European Economic Community in 1973, but since it starts way back in 1600 one can forgive Roy Foster for not covering such recent events. The start is in what is usually termed the early modern period, but if truth be told much of Irish society at that point was still organized on mediaeval lines.

To set the scene, Foster starts with a description of the three main sections of the population of Ireland in 1600. These were the (Gaelic and Catholic) Irish, the “Old English”, descendants of the 12th Century conquest of part of the country, who were also Catholic, and the Protestant “New English” who arrived with the Tudor plantations. There were tensions between all three of these groups.

The rest of the book is divided into four parts, roughly one per century: Part I covers the continued Elizabethan plantation of Ireland, rebellions against it, the devastation caused by Cromwell’s so-called “pacification”, and the Penal Laws that basically outlawed the Catholic faith. In Part II Foster discusses a period often called The Ascendancy which showed the consolidation of power in the hands of a Protestant – specifically Anglican – ruling class, though there was a sizeable community of non-conformist Protestants, chiefly Presbyterians, who were regarded by Anglicans with almost as much suspicion as the Catholics. This Part ends with yet another failed rebellion, involving Wolfe Tone and the United Irishmen, against the backdrop of the French revolution. Up until the Act of Union of 1800, Ireland had its own Parliament; after that Irish MPs were sent to the House of Commons in Westminster. The century covered by Part III includes the Irish Famine, rising levels of rural violence, and issues of land reform, and various attempts to deliver some form of Home Rule; it ends with Charles Stewart Parnell. Part IV covers the Easter Rising, War of Independence, Civil War, Partition, the creation of the Irish Free State, and the eventual formation of the Irish Republic. A running theme through all four Parts is a recognition of how historical forces – and not only religion – shaped Ulster in a different way from the rest of Ireland.

As I’ve said before on this blog, it disturbs me quite how little of this history I was taught at school in England so I found it valuable to read a detailed scholarly work whose main message is that everything is much more complex than simple narratives – those peddled by politicians, for example – would have you believe. This is primarily a revisionist history, calling much of received wisdom into question. That said, it’s probably not the best book for a newcomer to Irish history. Foster does assume knowledge of quite a few of the major events and, while reading it, I did have to look quite a few things up. Much is said in the jacket reviews of the author’s writing style. To be honest, I found it sometimes rather mannered and self-conscious, though with some enjoyably arch humour thrown in for good measure. It’s thoroughly researched, as far as that is possible when primary sources are sketchy and contemporary records usually written by someone with an axe to grind. It does seem to rely mainly on documents written in English, however, so one might argue that introduces quite a bias. I gather that there is much greater emphasis among contemporary Irish historians on records written in Irish (Gaelic).

The book is rather heavy on footnotes, too. Usually I dislike these, but in this case they are mostly little biographical sketches of important figures which would have disrupted the flow if included in the main text, and I found many of them valuable. Just to be perverse, I have to say I liked his liberal use of semicolons. Though dense, the books is as accessible as I think a scholarly work can be and although I am not so much a scholar of history as an interested bystander, I learnt a lot. It also made me want to learn more, especially about the period between the death of Parnell in 1891 and the Easter Rising of 1916.

It seems apt to finish with an excerpt that illustrates a theme that crops up repeatedly during the 23 chapters of the book:

Irish history in the long period since the completion of the Elizabethan conquest concerned a great deal more than the definition of Irishness against Britishness; this survey has attempted to indicate as much. But that sense of difference comes strongly through, though its expression was conditioned by altering circumstances, and adapted for different interest-groups, as the years passed. If the claims of cultural maturity and a new European identity advanced by the 1970s can be substantiated, it may be by the hope of a more relaxed and inclusive definition of Irishness, and a less constricted view of Irish history.

Modern Ireland, R. F. Foster, p596

I hope that too. It may even be happening.

It’s That Time Again…

Posted in Barcelona, History with tags , , on October 29, 2023 by telescoper

It’s 29th October 2023, which marks the end of “Summer Time” in Europe. Accordingly, the temperature in Barcelona has plummetted to 22°C. I have to make a flying visit to the UK next week and I suspect that I’m in for a bit of a shock, having adjusted to these balmy climes.  I have numerous telecons next week too and, since  some parts of the world will be still on Daylight Saving Time (or whatever) there’s potential for confusion in the timing.

Some time ago, before the Covid-19 Pandemic, the European Parliament approved a directive that would abolish `Daylight Saving Time’.  Unfortunately that plan has been ‘paused’ and there’s no sign of it happening for the foreseeable future.  I’ve long felt that the annual ritual of putting the clocks forward in the Spring and back again in the Autumn was a waste of time effort, so I’ll be glad when this silly practice is terminated. It would be far better in my view to stick with a single Mean Time throughout the year. I’m only disappointed that this hasn’t happened already.

The marvellous poster above is from 1916, when British Summer Time was introduced. I was surprised to learn recently that the practice of changing clocks backwards and forwards in the UK is only about a hundred years old and was introduced as an emergency measure in wartime. To be honest I’m also surprised that the practice persists to this day, as I can’t see any real advantage in it. Any institution or organisation that really wants to change its working hours in summer can easily do so, but the world of work is far more flexible nowadays than it was a hundred years ago and I think very few would feel the need.

Anyway, while I am on about Mean Time, here is a another poster from 1916.

Until October 1916, clocks in Ireland were set to Dublin Mean Time, as defined at Dunsink Observatory, rather than at Greenwich. The adoption of GMT in Ireland was driven largely by the fact that the British authorities found that the time difference between Dublin and London had confused telegraphic communications during the Easter Rising earlier in 1916. Its imposition was therefore, at least in part, intended to bring Ireland under closer control. This did not go down well with Irish nationalists.

Ireland had not moved to Summer Time with Britain in May 1916 because of the Easter Rising. Dublin Mean Time was 25 minutes 21 seconds behind GMT but the change to GMT was introduced in Ireland at the same time as BST ended in the UK, hence the alteration by one hour minus 25 minutes 21 seconds, i.e. 34 minutes and 39 seconds as in the poster.

Britain will probably never scrap British Summer Time on the grounds that whatever the EU does must necessarily be bad. What will happen to Northern Ireland when Ireland scraps Daylight Saving Time is yet to be seen.

Teaching in Base 60

Posted in Barcelona, Cardiff, History, mathematics, Maynooth with tags , , , , on October 27, 2023 by telescoper

Some time ago – was it really over a decade? – I wrote a piece about the optimum size of modules in physics teaching. I was still in the United Kingdom then so my ramblings were based on a framework in which undergraduate students would take 120 credits per year, usually divided into two semesters of 60 credits each. In Cardiff, for instance, most modules were (and still are) 10 credits but some core material was delivered in 20 credit modules. In the case of Sussex, to give a contrasting example, the standard “quantum” of teaching was the 15 credit module. I actually preferred the latter because that would allow the lecturer to go into greater depth, students would be only be studying four modules in a semester (instead of six if the curriculum consisted of 10 credit modules), and there would be fewer examinations. In short, the curriculum would be less “bitty”.

In Maynooth the size of modules is reckoned using the European Credit Transfer System (ECTS) which takes a full year of undergraduate teaching to be 60 credits rather than 120 in the UK, but the conversion between the two is a simple factor of two. In Maynooth the “standard” unit of teaching is 5 credits, with some 10 credit modules thrown in (usually extending over two semesters, e.g. projects). This is similar to the Cardiff system. The exception concerns first-year modules, which are 7.5 credits each because students take four modules in their first year so they have to be 30/4=7.5 credits each. The first year is therefore like the Sussex system. It changes to a five-credit quantum from Year 2 onwards because students do three subjects at that stage.

I find it interesting to compare this with the arrangements here in Barcelona (and elsewhere in Spain). Here the ECTS credit size is used, but the standard module is six credits, not five, and year-long projects here are 12 credits rather than 10. The effect of this is that students generally study five modules at a time (or four plus a project). To add to the fun there are also some 9 credit modules, so a semester could be made up of combinations of 6-credit and 9-credit chunks as long as the total adds up to 30.

Anyway, the main point of all this is to illustrate the joy of the sexagesimal system which derives from the fact that 60, being a superior composite number, has so many integer divisors: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 12, 15, 20, and 30. The Babylonians knew a thing or two!

Spanish Practices

Posted in Barcelona, Education, History, Maynooth with tags , , , , , on October 20, 2023 by telescoper

When I was a lad, during the 1970s, the term Spanish Practices was used pejoratively in a union-bashing sense to describe restrictive practices in the workplace. Until recently I thought it was a modern invention that relied on a stereotypical view of Spanish people as being lazy. In fact it seems the term dates back to Tudor times and is religious in origin, referring to Roman Catholic rites, in contrast to the simpler Protestant forms of worship. Anyway, none of that is what this post is about. I just used the title as clickbait.

I’ve been here in Barcelona, and working in the University of Barcelona, for four weeks now and I thought I’d share a few observations about differences in practice here and in the Ireland (and the UK).

The other night I went out for dinner with colleagues from the Department. The restaurant was much closer to the University than to my flat so instead of going home first I stayed in my office and walked straight there. My route out of the building takes me past a number of teaching rooms. During this warm weather, most of the rooms have the doors open so it’s easy to have a quick look at what’s going on inside. On my way out at about 7.30pm I was surprised to see a number of classes still going on, and they weren’t sparsely attended either.

In Maynooth the latest regular lectures finish at 6pm. Even during the 5pm to 6pm lectures, many students have to leave before the end to catch the one and only bus back to their place of residence. Here the public transport system is so good that isn’t really an issue even for those who don’t live near the campus. As far as I know lectures start at 9am, so students potentially have a very long day. They work hard.

I have to say that I wouldn’t like to have teach late in the evening. I used to do that on Fridays at Queen Mary for the MSc course and didn’t enjoy it. I don’t mind doing 9am lectures, though, but I don’t think students agree – partly because of the difficulty of getting to campus at that time.

In the Faculty of Physics, all the lecture halls, classrooms and laboratories are in one building rather than spread around the campus like they are in Maynooth (and many places in the UK). Fortunately, the building has been designed with students in mind and there is plenty of space for students to use socially or for private study between teaching sessions.

In this picture you can see the inner courtyard of the building occupied by the Faculties of Chemistry and Physics. It’s a big open space, with teaching rooms, etc, on either side. In the far right-hand corner there is a café/bar where one can buy lunch, a coffee, or even a beer, to be consumed either inside or in the seating area in the courtyard. Many students seem to prefer bring their own lunch and eat it in this space., although the food available is pretty good and cheap compared to back home.

As well as being able to eat and drink here, there is plenty of room for students simply to hang out or to study, either alone or in groups. If they don’t feel like that they can use the tram, bus or Metro to go home, and come back later if they have a long gap between classes. None of this is possible at Maynooth.

This particular kind of open space would not work so well in Ireland or the UK because of the weather, though you can probably see in the picture that there had been a bit of rain before I took the photograph, but I hope I’ve made the point that having social spaces makes a huge amount of difference to the student experience, not least because it feels that the University has thought about them. In the neoliberal system that dominates in the UK and Ireland, students are simply a commodity, a source of revenue, to be crammed into every available space and processed as cheaply as possible. In Maynooth students have been, and are being, forced to pay an extra levy for a notional student centre that will probably never be built.

The contrast is very disheartening.

Getting back to educational matters, another thing I’ve noticed walking past classrooms is that it’s not unusual to see a student standing at the blackboard in front of the class going through a problem. I’ve seen that a number of times with quite large classes. Sometimes we ask students to do that sort of thing in tutorials, but I’ve never done so in a full lecture. I think our students would be shocked if we asked, but it’s clearly not unexpected here. That’s a Spanish Practice I’d be quite happy to try.

Grubb in Spain

Posted in Barcelona, History, The Universe and Stuff with tags on October 10, 2023 by telescoper

Just after I arrived in Barcelona, I posted a piece about the telescope in the foyer of the Physics Department:

I’m indebted to Vicent Martínez for the following information and the picture:

Howard Grubb et al.

Ignacio Tarzaona bought the telescope in 1906 for the University of Barcelona from the Grubb factory in Dublin. Sir Howard Grubb (son of Thomas Grubb, founder of the Grubb Telescope Company) and Ignacio Tarazona actually knew each other well. In this photograph taken in Berrocalillo (Spain) on May 28, 1900, we can see both of them. The man farthest to the right of all, standing and wearing a “Catalan barretina” is Ignacio Tarazona and Sir Howard Grubb is sitting in the front row, fifth from left with his Panama hat on his knee.

The Dream of the Celt

Posted in History, LGBTQ+, Literature with tags , , , on October 8, 2023 by telescoper

Knowing that I would be spending even less time watching TV while in Barcelona than I would back in Maynooth, I packed a number of books from the substantial pile that I haven’t yet got around to. The first I’ve finished is The Dream of the Celt by Peruvian author Mario Vargos Llosa which tells the fascinating but ultimately tragic story of Roger Casement using a mixture of thoroughly researched journalistic reportage and fictionalized extrapolations that try to bring this enigmatic character to life.

Roger Casement was born in Sandycove, Dublin, but spent some of his childhood in England. He served with great distinction as a diplomat, and a fierce advocated of human rights, first in the Congo, where he compiled a devastating report of the brutal exploitation of indigenous people, and then in Peru where he exposed even worse cruelty being exacted on native men women and children who were used as forced labour in the rubber plantations. He was knighted in 1911 for his humanitarian efforts.

When he first started out in the diplomatic service, Casement apparently believed that colonization would be a civilizing influence, bringing free trade, the rule of law, and Christianity instead of repression and violence. His bitter experience changed his view entirely, and he became increasingly associated with the cause of England’s first colony, and became a fervent advocate of Irish nationalism. He found himself travelling to Germany during the First World War to procure arms for an Irish rebellion and to raise an Irish Regiment from Irish prisoners of war captured fighting for the British. In the latter he was not successful – he persuaded only about 50 POWs to join the cause. He did succeed in obtaining weapons but the ship smuggling them to Ireland was intercepted and scuttled to avoid the weapons falling into British hands.

Incidentally, Casement was against the Easter Rising of 1916. He thought it would be futile unless it could be combined with a German attack on England. Ireland was not sufficiently important geopolitically for the Kaiser to mount such an operation. The other leaders of the Rising wanted Casement to stay in Germany as it proceeded but he travelled to Ireland in a submarine, was captured, tried for high treason, found guilty, and hanged at Pentonville Prison on 3rd August 1916. He was 51. His executioner later remarked that he was ‘‘the bravest man it fell to my unhappy lot to execute.’

W.B. Yeats wrote a poem about Roger Casement, the last verse of which is:

Come speak your bit in public
That some amends be made
To this most gallant gentleman
That is in quicklime laid.

Leading up to Casement’s execution there was a concerted campaign for clemency, i.e. the commutation of his death sentence, as had happened with some involved directly in the rebellion. But then came the Black Diaries. Parts of these, describing in Casement’s own words his many sexual adventures with men and boys, were leaked to the press by British intelligence services. At a time when homosexuality was still a crime, that effectively ended any hope of avoiding the gallows. The Black Diaries are of questionable authenticity, and many who believe they were genuine think Casement was merely writing about fantasies rather than reality. Maybe writing about things he couldn’t do was a way for him to relieve sexual tension? We’ll never know for sure.

After his execution Casement’s body was subject to a rectal examination to ascertain whether he had had anal sex as described in the books. He was buried in an unmarked grave and it wasn’t until 1965 that his remains were returned to Ireland to be interred at Glasnevin cemetery.

The author tells this story by interspersing Casement’s last weeks and months in Pentonville with flashbacks to his time in the Congo, the Peru, Germany and Ireland. The protagonist did write extensive notes on his travels but they are somewhat disorganized, so he had to make reasonable guesses to fill in the gaps. The conversations with other characters are imagined to make it seem more like a novel than a straight historical biography. This approach makes for a fascinating read, although I did find it somewhat repetitive in places.

Sir Roger Casement, as reconstructed in this book, is a fascinating character, but how close the account is to how he really was as a person is something we’ll never know. In a strange way, that mystery is part of the appeal.

An Irish Astronomical Connection…

Posted in Barcelona, History, The Universe and Stuff on September 27, 2023 by telescoper

After posting yesterday about the sizeable differences between Maynooth and Barcelona in terms of Physics, I stumbled across an Irish connection in the foyer of the Physics Department.

I’ve posted before about the famous optical instrument manufacturer, the Grubb Telescope Company, founded in Dublin by Thomas Grubb and later renamed Grubb Parsons after its relocation to Newcastle upon Tyne. I’ve posted about other connections too. The presence of this telescope in Barcelona is further evidence – as if it were needed – that, in its time, the Grubb Telescope Company really was the world leader in optical instrumentation.