"Nothing is different but everything's changed"

Darwin stated that during his time on the HMS Beagle as he read Lyell’s Principles of Geology, he felt that he was seeing the world “through Lyell’s eyes.” He was supremely influenced by the reading and it helped derive the mechanism for Darwinian evolution. The constant, uniform changes over geological time which Lyell described were applied to the living world by Darwin. Although he did not fully understand the technical aspects of the idea, Darwin did understand that something about animals changed according to the environment with each generation. Now, this is understood to be a constant rate of genetic mutation which leads to slight shifts in phenotype which can be selected for or against by the environment where the organism lives. Just as Lyell saw a continuous presence of usually slight geological forces that shaped the world through their constancy, modern evolutionists recognize a continuous presence of genetic changes that slowly morph the organism. Although Darwin would have known little of the technical details, he certainly would have been able to see the phenotypic outcomes. He was able to see the incomplete pattern in the fossil record that inched from one form to another. In both geology and biology, although nothing was different about the forces working from generation to generation or from era to era, everything had changed as they slowly shaped the world. This seemingly contradictory statement can thus be applied to both sciences in order to make sense of so much of the world around us.

Lyrical inspiration for this post from Bishop Allen-“Calendar”

Empire, Tropical Medicine, and Conrad

While discussing tropical medicine in Paul’s lecture last week, I was very interested in how the British Empire had not only been aided to some extent made possible by the development of medicine. In the most imperial terms, until the diseases of the colonies were overcome, the colonies themselves could not be overcome. Patrick Manson and Ronald Ross both worked to educate doctors going abroad on the disease that they would encounter. Though they did not see eye to eye on the best way to go about this, the idea that it was necessary was consistent. While I was listening to this, however, could not help but to wonder to what extent it really worked. I was reminded of a passage from Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (which, granted, takes place in a Belgian colony rather than a British one but the analogy is to the British Empire) in which Marlow meets the station master in the interior of the Congo and is taken aback by his inefficient and poorly run station. The only reason that Marlow is able to come up with for why this man had gained such a high rank in the service is his innate constitution. Simply put, the man was better than any other at surviving the wilds of Africa. Therefore, he advanced in his career over other less hardy individuals who either went back to Europe or died in Africa. Yet, Marlow certainly considers this person with disdain. It was with this thought in mind that I raised the question about whether people who were able to withstand the climate change were looked down upon as closer to the “savages” or if they were simply rewarded for their health. While certainly not all officers who could live in Africa were unfit for their jobs, the Conrad novella raises the question of how the empire would have been different and likely stronger had they been able to overcome the diseases that befell so many fit British men.

Brunel and Bristol

In discussing what we thought about Edinburgh in class last week, the first thing that sprung to my mind was the excessive pride that the people had for their city. They were not only aware of their history but were able to make it a vibrant, living thing. Granted, this sometimes translated into fairly cheesy tourist attractions, but there was a strong sense of what the city had been and is currently. By comparison, Bristol presented a very different identity. It seemed somewhat more confused and less sure of itself. In discussing it with others, the consensus was that the difference lay in the cities’ diverging fates during World War II. While Edinburgh was far enough out of danger to be a refuge for mainland European medical schools, the heavy bombing of Bristol the industrial center seemed to have set the city adrift. No longer sure of its moorings, the town remained centered on the floating harbor through condos rather than the shipping and ship-building that had supported it previously. The result of the building projects of the 70s and 80s stand oddly juxtaposed against the older generation of fisherman’s homes farther up the hill. Yet, in between (or despite?) these more recent additions, the history of the city is alive. The Clifton Suspension bridge and the SS Great Britain clearly demonstrated there is still much affection for the past. The people of Bristol seem to be finding their new direction by looking back at the work of Brunel in the 19th century. In this way, they are able to reconsider their past in order to asses their future. Through this re-identification of the city with Brunel, the man who was already seen as a heroic engineer, they are able to tie up loose ends. Although the history of Bristol neither started nor will end with Brunel, the spirit of the city is certainly centered upon him.

Photography and Photoshop

The images of both insane asylum patients and electro-shocked people displaying emotions that we saw during our trip to Cambridge provide an interesting insight into how Victorians viewed the new technology of photography. These pictures were presented as scientifically accurate because they were seen to provide a more instantaneous and life-like display than could have been provided by hand-drawings. Although with a fairly small sample size, Darwin used the photos of the electrically contorted man to test responses of dinner guests in order to determine the universality of emotional conception. Interestingly, when Darwin conducted the survey through contacts abroad, there were no photos involved but instead only a series of questions about how the people changed their expression while experiencing different emotions. While this was probably due more to the practical issues of printing and posting dozens of photos than to Darwin’s actual wishes, the detail that the questions provide demonstrate that Darwin would have liked to provide a photo. Descriptions of emotional expression are much more easily conveyed through images than words, and Darwin placed much trust in these images. Similar scientific uses of photography can be seen in the work done by the French psychiatrist Charcot, who would photograph his patients in various stages of their hysterical fits. In both cases, the scientists present the photos as infallible.
By contrast to the Victorian confidence in their new technology, in the twenty-first century we have taken a much more skeptical view to photography. We are quick to denounce anything incredible to a trick of the mind and the mouse. With a few clicks, Photoshop and airbrushing can take any image and alter it almost to the point of being unrecognizable. In the public arena, what we are looking at is rarely what the photographer was seeing. Thus, we have gained a cynicism regarding commercial photography which has slipped into our scientific images as well. One can surely remember looking through images in a text book or paper and wondering that they could possibly be real. A biology text book certainly provides many opportunities for the photography skeptic to criticize.
Still, maybe the Victorians could have used some of our cynicism. It has been questioned whether the scientific photos in which Darwin placed so much faith were not actually staged. The man who is most prominent in the series who claimed to be a subject because he was not pained by the electrodes has been said to be acting to a certain extent. The true question becomes, however, whether this was a nineteenth century criticism or a twenty-first. The difference lies in the faith in technology.

On birthday presents and the Victorians

Shortly before coming to London, I received Dracula as a birthday present. I started reading it although I have yet to complete it since I have been fairly busy during my time here. Yet, the multiple references that have been made to the book throughout the course have made it clear that the novel was an enlightened choice of birthday gift. Just a with other popular novels of the time, including those read in class, there have been several themes of the course intertwined with the plot of the story. First, one of the main characters, Dr. Seward, is a doctor who treats the insane and one of his patients becomes a main character in the story. Although I do not think he specified a certain title for his position, Stoker clearly describes the relationship the doctor has with the insane man Renfield. In the hospital, Seward acts like a Conolly-esque father figure, watching over his patients while also treating them with respect. Another interesting aspect concerning Dr. Seward’s character is that he actually lives in part of the hospital where he works, as John Hunter did. He has part of the house dedicated to his social life big enough for multiple guests to stay and then a portion dedicated to the patients.
More broadly than this, the very style in which the story is written is very much a product of its time. Instead of there being a narrator who tells the entire story from a third party perspective, the story is told through the journals, newspaper clippings, diaries, and telegraphs sent between the characters or saved by them. The post works so efficiently that they can send multiple letters in a morning and the telegraph technology is even speedier. The railway system which facilitated the growth of the telegraphs are also referenced multiple times as Dr. Van Helsing traverses between his home and London and the characters travel throughout England. Still, this all is made apparent through their private records rather than an omniscient narrator. This detail is important because it presents the story in a similar way as Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Without calling it a “case” per se, Stoker tells his story as if it is a case record. Indeed, the characters themselves compile and read the very collection of information which the reader is holding. This self-referential plot detail demonstrates that the characters view the story as a case which they must study and solve, and thus professionalizes the story in a similar way that Stevenson’s “case” does. There are certainly endless ways in which Dracula is a product of its time, yet for me at about half way through both the book and this course, these are the ones that struck me.

Revolutionary Recliners

When we went to Cambridge last Monday, a very small placard among the many in the exhibit on Darwin’s “gap years” on the HMS Beagle caught my eye. This card, folded in half and placed somewhat randomly throughout the historical artifacts and related descriptions, simply read “I hope my wanderings will not unfit me for a quiet life.” Darwin wrote this in 1832 when he was only 26 and still had four more years of wandering ahead of him. A quick Google search reveals that the letter which he wrote to his friend and cousin, William Darwin Fox. Fox was a settled clergyman in Cheshire and led the life that Charles Darwin could have seen for himself. He had, after all, been training to become a clergyman himself.
The emotions expressed in this simple sentence are particularly interesting when considered with the fact that Darwin was considered to be a “conservative revolutionary.” There is a line from the Oasis song “Don’t Look Back in Anger” that says “gonna start a revolution from my bed” (doubly relevant because we heard it covered in Scotland; here it is live Manchester). The song intends the lyrics to be facetious and a display of the singer’s ambivalence. Yet, this is almost literally what Darwin ended up doing, a hundred fifty years before the words were written. Following his marriage, he ensconced himself at Downe House attempting quite respectably to make a quiet life for himself. As his ideas brought him somewhat reluctantly into the limelight, Darwin remained above the fray, communicating to most people by letter but doing so fervently. While he may have gone through the motions of leading a quiet life, however, Darwin and his contributions cannot be said to be anything short of revolutionary. It was exactly his wanderings on the Beagle that enabled these ideas to flourish. Therefore, not only did his travels unfit him for a quiet life, but actually made the life of the local clergyman an impossibility for Darwin. He was too changed by them and in some ways took on a life of their own. So even while Darwin remained quietly at home writing thousands of letters, he did indeed start a revolution from his bed—or at least his armchair.

Historical Places Redeisgned

One thing that has struck me throughout this course is the way in which old nineteenth century buildings have made their way into the twenty-first century. It seems as though there is a variety of fates which can befall them. There are certainly countless buildings built or existing during the period which no longer stand. Yet for those that do, they can remain functional in their original purpose, such as Guy’s Hospital; they can fall into disrepair but be restored, such as the Crossness engines; or, I think most disturbingly, they can be reassigned a function with no trace of their past. While I’m sure that many structures have been completely remade, the example most in my mind is Colney Hatch. It seems crooked that the former insane asylum has been morphed into condos and even more so that this metamorphosis had occurred without any reference to the past. This fact made me wonder about what else around London, or any other city with a past as rich, might be more than they seem. The possibilities seem endless. What houses hid men like John Hunter, with dissecting rooms and body trafficking happening in the back half? What happened to the other sites where Bedlam was? And all the county and borough insane asylums? In London, there is a lot of pride taken by natives in the history that is on the surface—plain to see from the banks of the Thames. Yet, I would be much more interested in learning about the stories that have been hidden or covered up, whether with lies or simply with wall paper.