I have just finished reading a summary of the life and achievements of Grant Allen, and it goes like this:
Born in Canada. The son of an Anglo-Scottish Protestant minister. Studied in the UK and France. Took up employment for a time as a Professor at Queens College in Jamaica. Science writer, author and novelist. Agnostic and socialist. Expounder of the theories of Charles Darwin. First books on scientific subjects: "Physiological Aesthetics" and "Flowers and their Pedigrees". Novelist; thirty books in fifteen years, among them the scandalous, "The Woman Who Did", and, "The Evolution of the Idea of God". Pioneer in Canadian science fiction with, "The British Barbarians". "Hilda Wade", an unfinished novel, completed after his death, by his friend Arthur Conan Doyle.
Now, as a lesser mortal, faced with all these achievements, I can't help feeling that if I could just manage to do one thing well, I would feel proud indeed. And by that I mean, something that I could look at and know that it will stand the test of time. What comes to mind is this, a song popularised by Roberta Flack and written by Ewan MacColl for his wife Peggy Seeger; because long after you and I have departed this life, they will still be singing it. (Try it). The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.
But, what passes unnoticed in Grant Allen's portfolio of work is, that in 1899, he wrote the Introduction to the sixtieth edition of a remarkable book. Included in these early editions, (the first was published in 1789), was a German translation, several editions published in New York; and two editions specifically for children, published by the Society For Promoting Christian Knowledge. As to how many editions have appeared since Grant Allen's Introduction, I have no means of knowing; but the claim is made, that "The Natural History of Selborne", by Gilbert White, is "the fourth most frequently published book in the English language, behind the Bible, the Oxford English Dictionary and works of Shakespeare".
Between the covers, and written over a period of twenty years, "The Natural History of Selborne" is a collection of letters, written by a retiring man, a country parson and Fellow of Oriel College Oxford.
In his wildest imaginings, Gilbert White could not have understood the measure of his achievement, or, that he had produced that "one thing" that "would stand the test of time". Unsentimental, it is a record of years spent in painstaking observation of the natural world. And when you read this discrete observation, it is apparent that the task was often far from glamorous. Writing of the severe frost in January 1768, he tells us that, "it froze under peoples beds for several nights". What he is alluding to here, is the chamber pot, or what the country yokel of his day might have called it, "the piss pot".
"Some time about 1755 as far as we can judge, there went to settle down at Selborne in Hampshire, a certain quiet and unobtrusive parson, the Reverend Gilbert White, Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford, who has made his out-of-the way village into a place of pilgrimage for all lovers of nature on both sides of the Atlantic . . . So modest was he, indeed, and so careless of fame, that no portrait now exists of him, and only a few particulars can with difficulty be gleamed from very brief notices about the man whose letters have probably been reprinted in a greater number of editions than those of any other English Worthy."
And he reminds us that White was a classical scholar, capable of reading the scientific works of his day that were most often written in Latin. A scholarship that for me, is reflected in an enduring style of writing. A style that is simple, direct, and so lucid, that for most of the time I had little sense of reading letters that were written over two hundred years ago.This passage, where Gilbert White is describing the behaviour of "White Owls", is a case in point:
"We have had, ever since I can remember, a pair of white owls that constantly breed under the eaves of the church. As I have paid good attention to the manner of life of these birds during their season of breeding, which lasts the summer through, the following remarks may not perhaps be unacceptable : - About an hour before sunset (for then the mice begin to run) they sally forth in quest of prey, and hunt all round the hedges of meadows and small enclosures for them, which seem to be their only food. In this irregular country we can stand on an eminence and see them beat the fields over like a setting-dog, and often drop down in the grass or corn. I have minuted these birds with my watch for an hour together, and have found that they return to their nest, the one or the other of them, about once in five minutes ; reflecting at the same time on the adroitness that every animal is possessed of as far as regards the well-being of itself and offspring. But a piece of address, which they show when they return loaded, should not, I think, be passed over in silence. As they take their prey with their claws, so they carry it in their claws to their nest ; but, as their feet are necessary in their ascent under the tiles, they constantly perch first on the roof of the chancel, and shift the mouse from their claws to their bill, that their feet may be at liberty to take hold of the plate on the wall as they are rising under the eaves" (Lettr XV, p.211)
Apart altogether from the behaviour of the owls, what we are given here is an insight into the mind and methods of a patient observer; a pioneer who, is meticulous in every detail. Something that Grant Allen in his Introduction, suggest, should not be taken for granted:
". . .At the present day unless one devotes oneself to the minuter forms of life, one has little chance of discovering anything new in Britain. But in White's day things were different. The Zoology and botany of the British Isles was as yet very imperfectly understood; the habits and ways of plants and animals were an almost unknown study. Moreover, the current books on natural history were still crammed with Medieval fables, marvellous survivals of folk-tales, extraordinary accounts of how swallows hibernate under water, and how decoctions of toads are a certain cure for the ravages of cancer. It was the business of White's generation to substitute careful and first-hand observation for the vague descriptions, the false surmises, and the wild traditional tales of earlier authors."
xxxi.
xxxi.
And in an age of text messaging, and reduced attention span, I couldn't help but warm to this anecdote, which just goes to prove that change is painful for every generation. Here, Grant Allen could well have been writing about today, (except for the all too conspicuous exclusion of females) :
"Today if a boy or a man wants to know about the plants, birds, the fish, the insects of the country in which he lives, he usually begins "by buying a book about them". He collects specimens, of course, and identifies them with his book; but as soon as he has found out to what particular species each specimen belongs, he generally contents himself with reading up what his book says about it, and then rests satisfied that he has fairly "done" that plant or animal.
Now you will be disappointed if you read "The Natural History of Selborne" hoping to find it packed with character sketches of "everyday country folk". It is not that kind of book. However, from time to time, boys do get a mention. And something that adds greatly to the richness of this book, are its many line drawings. They are the work of the nineteenth century illustrator Edmund H New, and leaving aside the illustrations of birds and other wildlife, his drawings of the dwarf-like thatched cottages of Selborne and the surrounding countryside, are compelling, and in no sense, are they at odds with the high resolution, high tech, colour images that we have come to expect .
Looking through my notes, the themes are so wide-ranging, that it is hard to know what best to offer you as to why I felt it worthwhile to draw your attention to this book. They run something like this: Wolmer Forest, red game, deer. Alice Holt forest, deer hunters, rebellion over rights to timber. The coming and going of species of birds. Winter birds: chaffinches, linnets, swallows, field-fares, wagtails and quails. Water creatures, the white hare, eagle, water rat. List of summer birds of passage. Dogs from Canton (China). Fog and volcanic eruptions, the use of rushes in candle making, hogs, vines, and insects. The notes and language of birds, soil types and local plants , the tortoise, etc etc. So here are a few passages selected from countless possibilities, in the first of which, White, mindful of the economy in nature is drawing attention to the self-sustaining processes, in the natural world:
"A circumstance respecting these ponds, though by no means peculiar to them, I cannot pass over in silence ; and that is, that instinct by which in summer all the kine, whether oxen, cows, calves or heifers, retire constantly to the water during the hotter hours ; where being more exempt from flies, and inhaling the coolness of the elements, some belly deep, and some only to mid leg, they ruminate and solace themselves from about ten in the morning till four in the afternoon, and then return to their feeding. During this great proportion of the day they drop much dung, in which insects nestle ; and so supply food for the fish, which would be poorly subsisted but from this contingency. Thus Nature, is a great economist, converts the recreation of one animal to the support of another !" (Letter VIII, p. 36)
But as an observer, White was a realist and knew that for every species, life is a precarious business, as we can see here, in the travails of the house martin:
"About the middle of May, if the weather be fine, the martin begins to think in earnest of providing a mansion for its family. The crust or shell of this nest seems to be formed of such dirt or loam as comes most readily to hand, and is tempered and wrought together with little bits of broken straw to render it tough and tenacious. As this bird often builds against a perpendicular wall without any projecting ledge under, it requires its utmost efforts to get the first foundation firmly fixed, so that it may safely carry the superstructure. On this occasion the bird not only clings with its claws, but partly supports itself by strongly inclining its tail against the wall, making that a fulcrum ; and thus steadied, it works and plasters the materials into the face of the brick or stone. But then, that this work may not, while it is soft and green, pull itself down by its own weight, the provident architect has prudence and forbearance enough not to advance her work too fast ; but by building only in the morning, and by dedicating the rest of the day to food and amusement, gives it sufficient time to dry and harden. About half an inch seems to be a sufficient layer for a day. Thus careful workmen, when they build mud-walls (informed at first perhaps by this little bird), raise but a moderate layer at a time, and then desist, lest the work should become top-heavy, and so be ruined by its own weight. By this method in about ten or twelve days is formed an hemispheric nest with a small aperture towards the top, strong, compact and warm ; and perfectly fitted for all the purposes for which it was intended. But then nothing is more common than for the house-sparrow, as soon as the shell is finished, to seize on it as its own, to eject the owner, and to line it after its own manner. " (Letter XVI, p. 216).
To which Grant Allen, as editor, adds this touching footnote, from his own experience of house martins:
"In the case of some house-martins which had built under the eaves of my own cottage, I removed no less than twelve successive nests of sparrows. While each nest was being removed, the sparrows hopped about close bye with building materials in their mouths, looking exceedingly saucy, and with an obviously insolent air of self-assertion. They seemed to say, "Who's afraid of you? we mean to go on building in spite of you." In the end, however, we tired them out, and the house-martins returned to undisturbed possession."
And here, where White is writing about the role of the botanist he is at his most philosophical and preempting the views of Charles Darwin:
"Dear Sir,- The standing objection to botany has always been, that it is a pursuit that assesses the fancy and exercises the memory without improving the mind or advancing any real knowledge ; and where the science is carried no further than a mere systematic classification, the charge is but too true. But the botanist that is desirous of wiping off this aspersion should be by no means content with a list of names ; he should study plants philosophically, should investigate the laws of vegetation, should examine the powers and virtues of efficacious herbs, should promote their cultivation, and graft the gardener, the planter, and the husbandman, on the phytologist. Not that system is by any means to be thrown aside ; without system the field of Nature would be a pathless wilderness: but systems should be subservient to, not the main object of, pursuit" (Letter XL, p.301).
And lastly, this. Ostensibly on hogs. But if you read this letter carefully, you will, I hope, sense something of White's skill as a storyteller, as well as, the amiable, in his personality:
"The natural term of an hog's life is little known, and the reason is plain-because it is neither profitable nor convenient to keep that turbulent animal to the full extent of its time: however, my neighbour, a man of substance, who had no occasion to study every little advantage to a nicety, kept an half-bread bantam-sow, who was as thick as she was long, and whose belly swept on the ground, till she was advanced in her seventeenth year, at which period she showed some tokens of age by the decay of her teeth and the decline of her fertility.
For about ten years this prolific mother produced two litters in the year of about ten at a time, and once above twenty at a litter ; but, as there were near double the number of pigs to that of teats many died. From long experience in the world this female was grown very sagacious and artful. When she found occasion to converse with a boar she used to open all the intervening gates, and march, by herself, up to a distant farm where one was kept ; and when her purpose was served, would return by the same means. At the age of about fifteen her litters began to be reduced to four or five ; and such a litter she exhibited when in her fatting-pen. She proved when fat, good bacon, juicy and tender ; the rind, or sward, was remarkably thin. At a modest computation she was allowed to have been the fruitful parent of three hundred pigs : a prodigious instance of fecundity in so large a quadruped ! She was killed in spring 1775."
Accompanying these letters are several poems written by Gilbert White. Among them, "A Harvest Scene", which in my view, is not equal to his letters. Why? Because this poem is a stereotypical or idealised view of the labourers way of life; that, in its composition, and poetic construction, reflects what Gilbert White learned from books, rather than something that has evolved from his life's work as a naturalist. You might disagree?
A Harvest Scene
Wak'd by the gentle gleamings of the morn
Soon glad, the reaper, provident of want
Hies cheerful-hearted to the ripen'd field;
Nor hastes alone; attendant by his side
His faithful wife, sole partner of his cares,
Bears on her breast the sleeping babe; behind,
With steps unequal, trips her infant train;
Thrice happy pair, in love and labour join'd!
All day they ply their task; with mutual chat
Beguiling each the sultry, tedious hours.
Around them falls in rows the sever'd cort.
Or the shacks rise in regular array.
But when high noon invites to short repast
Beneath the shade of shelt'rimg thorn they sit,
Divide the simple meal, and drain the cask:
The swinging cradle lulls the whimp'ring babe,
Meantime, while growling round if at the tread
Of hasty passenger alarm'd, as of their store
Protective, stalks the cur with brist'ling back,
To guard the scanty scrip and russet frock.
_____
Now whatever my view might be about the poetry, natural justice requires that the last word belongs to Gilbert White:
"Dear Sir,-The old Sussex tortoise, that I have mentioned to you so often, is become my property. I dug it out of its winter dormitory in March last, when it was enough awakened to express its resentments by hissing ; and, packing it in a box with earth, carried it eighty miles in post-chaises. The rattle and hurry of the journey so perfectly roused it that, when I turned it out on a border, it walked twice down to the bottom of my garden ; however, in the evening, the weather being cold, it buried itself in the loose mould, and continues still concealed.
As it will be under my eye, I shall now have an opportunity of enlarging my observations on its mode of life, and propensities ; and perceive already that, towards the time of coming forth, it opens a breathing place in the ground near its head, requiring, I conclude, a freer respiration as it becomes more alive. This creature not only goes under the earth from the middle of November to the middle of April. but sleeps great part of the summer ; for it goes to bed in the longest days at four in the afternoon, and often does not stir in the morning till late. Besides, it retires to rest for every shower, and does not move at all in wet days.
When one reflects on the state of this strange being, it is a matter of wonder to find that Providence should bestow such a perfusion of days, such a seeming waste of longevity, on a reptile that appears to relish it so little as to squander more than two-thirds of its existence in a joyless stupor, and be lost to all sensation for months together in the profoundest of slumbers.
While I was writing this letter, [April 21st 1780] a moist and warm afternoon, with the thermometer at 50, brought forth troops of shell-snails ; and at the same juncture, the tortoise heaved up the mould and put out its head ; and the next morning came forth, as it were raised from the dead, and walked about till four in the afternoon. This was a curious coincidence !a very amusing occurrence ! to see such a similarity of feelings between the two [Greek terminology] ! for so the Greeks called both the shell-snail and the tortoise.
Summer birds are, this cold and backward spring, unusually late : I have seen but one swallow yet. This conformity with the weather convinces me more and more that they sleep in the winter." (Letter L p.335)
_____
© Cormac McCloskey
"The Natural History of Selborne"
Author: Gilbert White
Published 1989 [Reproduction of the 1899 edition.]
Publisher: Wordsworth Editions Ltd
ISBN 1-85326-929-8
Related Website
Gilbert Whites House and the Oates Museum
The young Reberta Flack: The First Time Ever I saw Your Face
Note: This blog, "Between The Covers", was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 20th July 2007
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