Tennyson and 'The Fleet'

This poem appeared in The Times on April 23, 1885, and was concurrently  printed in the Pall Mall Gazette. Written by the Poet Laureate, it appears to have been largely forgotten (if a Google search can be taken as evidence). The poem was a response to Stead’s The Truth About the Navy (which I discussed  here). In it, he espouses the views of the Blue Water School, arguing that Britain’s Navy was woefully underfunded by a government who did not recognise its importance of the navy to Britain and its Empire’s security.

The poem was the last of a series of Tennyson’s poems published in periodicals in which he tackles political issues. Using his position as Poet Laureate and as the hugely popular ‘poet of the people’, Tennyson was able to command great influence. This was precisely why Stead had sent him a copy of the article he intended to publish, in the hope the sentiments might be echoed by the poet, and that he would add his substantial weight to the campaign. As if to emphasise this, when the poem was published in the Pall Mall Gazette it was preceded by the title ‘A Warning by Lord Tennyson’ and included an introduction by Stead which highlighted the patriotic nature of the cause.[1]  

The use of Tennyson’s poem was a stroke of genius by Stead, whose campaign gathered momentum throughout 1885. Gradually it attracted other parts of the press, as well as politicians to its cause. The resulting pressure precipitated the Naval Defence Act in 1889. This put into law the ‘two power standard’, which began a building programme, and consequently a naval arms race which lasted into the twentieth century.

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[1] K. Ledbetter, Tennyson and Victorian Periodicals: Commodities in Context (Ashgate, 2007)

An interesting direction for maritime history?

It has been over ten years since Karen Wigen and Jessica Harland-Jacobs asked ‘what if seas were shifted from the margins to the centre of academic vision?’[1] Although it was in a geography journal, it is a powerful question for anyone studying maritime spaces. Perhaps this is a tad loaded, as I have attempted though some of my work to utilise this method, but its strikes me that such an approach to maritime, and especially naval, history, might bring new perspectives to many areas of research. After all, the Royal Navy’s primary activity was at sea, not in offices at the Admiralty or in Whitehall, nor in the shipyards that built warships. That is not to suggest that histories of the Admiralty, or indeed naval technology, do not have a place in naval history, but that different approaches may enlighten and supplement these histories. Focusing on the maritime spaces that naval ships inhabited (and in this I include those places on the fringes of oceans such as bases, ports and coaling stations), the activities of the navy, its part in global politics, the actions it was involved with, and the infrastructure that allowed it to function become more important. They are also put into a global context, where distance, foreign dangers, and geographical features help to explain the priorities and actions of the navy. For instance, knowing the French had several bases on Madagascar helps explain the importance of Mauritius, just as the impending creation of the Panama Canal helps explain the renewed importance of Jamaica. Furthermore, by examining the vast distances between British stations abroad, it is easy to understand the need for telegraphic communication, and indeed why the Admiralty were concerned about these places being attacked by cruisers. By examining trade routes, it becomes clearer why stations such as Simon’s Town on the Cape of Good Hope, Suez, and Hong Kong were important.  This approach can also explain the cultural and social aspects of the navy, by exploring the hybrid and contested nature of the places that sailors found themselves in, especially at stations far away from home. Certainly it would help to better knit together histories of empire and histories of the navy. These are merely examples for the period 1870-1914, on which I have focused, but I am sure that this could be fruitful for other periods too. Perhaps these histories have already been written and I missed the boat?

Anyway, I would be curious to know what you think. Does this sound interesting/useful/crazy?

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[1] Wigen, Kären, and Jessica Harland-Jacobs. "Guest Editors' Introduction." Geographical Review 89, no. 2 (1999): ii-ii.

Coaling stations as places

Part of my thesis looks at the experiences of those involved in coaling, and their interactions with imperial environments. As E. G. Anning, in The Log of H.M.S. Argonaut explains:

‘A ship on a foreign station, moving from port to port, offers continual opportunity for diversion, and as an abundance of leave is granted to men of good character, they have ample opportunity to visit the different towns, see the sights, and study the ways of the natives.’

This blog will give just a few examples of the impressions of coaling stations recorded in ships’ logs.

On the native workers of St Lucia: ‘Dressed in the most grotesque rigs imaginable: one in a pair of pants which are tied round his neck, and a bluejackets old cap.’

On Hong Kong: ‘Few places are more interesting to the traveller from Europe than this city, furnishing as it does such a change of scenery, manners and customs, so widely different from anything he has probably seen before.’

Amoy, like most Chinese cities was dirty and ‘exude[s] a foul stench unbearable to any but Chinese.’

Yokohama was of particular interest due to the ‘figure, physiognomy, costume, and customs of the people’

St. Vincent (Cape Verde) was‘dismal and uninteresting.’

Valetta was a favourite of blue jackets: ‘his requirements are catered for on a somewhat lavish scale.’

Port Said was the ‘acme of coaling ports, as coal can be brought on board ship here much faster than at any port in the world.’

Gibraltar contained ‘a mixture of races, customs, and manners, such as can scarcely be found at any other place in Europe.’

Ascension Island was so reviled that when it was planned to close it as a station was rumoured a sailor exclaimed: ‘for the sake of those who have from time to time to pass a portion of their life here, this is to be wished.’

Simon’s Town split opinion. One log suggests that ‘There can scarcely be a landscape more gloomy and desolate than the sterile rocky mountain and white sandy plains which inclose Simon’s Bay.’ Another, however, comments on the ‘loveliness of its fauna and the bold ruggedness of its rocky scenery.’

My favourite comment, however, is this:  ‘I cannot call to mind any other settlement more dismal, miserable, and devoid of all interest than this at the Falkland Islands.’ 

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'Masker'. "The China Station in Other Days." The Naval Review 25, no. 3 (1937): 522-533.

Anning, E. G., Bentley, F. J. Bentley, and Lionel pseud Yexley. The Log of H.M.S. Argonaut, 1900-1904. China Station London: Westminster Press, 1904.

Arnell, Jack. The Bermuda Maritime Museum and the Royal Naval Dockyard, Bermuda. Bermuda: Maritime Museum Association, 1979.

Bonnici, Joseph, and Michael Cassar. A Century of the Royal Navy at Malta. Malta: BDL, 1999.

Bonnici, Joseph, and Michael Cassar. The Malta Grand Harbour and Its Dockyard. Malta: J. Bonnici.

Butterworth, A. E. The Log of H.M.S. Bedford, China Station, 1907-09. London: Westminster Press, 1909.

C, G. From Portsmouth to Peking Via Ladysmith with a Naval Brigade. : pp. 151. Hong Kong Daily Press: Hong-Kong; London, 1901.

Dunslow, S. E., Jones, and R. J. Seaman in the Navy Jones. The Commission of H.M.S. Eclipse, China Station, 1901-1904: 1904.

Longstaff, Frederick Victor. Esquimalt Naval Base. A History of Its Work and Its Defences: Victoria Book & Stationery Co.: Victoria.

Malpas, Philip Alfred. H.M.S. Indefatigable. Log of Second Commission from Jan. 1, 1900, to Jan. 13, 1903, on the North America and West Indies Station. Bermuda: Colonist Press, 1903.

Noble, Sam. 'Tween Decks in the 'Seventies' : An Autobiography. London: Sampson, Low, 1925.

O., H. F. "Recollections  of  a  Commission  on  the South- East Coast of America Station,1882 to 1885." The Naval Review 27, no. 2 (1939): 255-265.

Semmes, Raphael. The Confederate Raider Alabama. [S.l.]: Peter Smith, 1969.

Spry, W. J. J. . "The Cruise of Her Majesty's Ship "Challenger" Voyages over Many Seas Scenes in Many Lands ". London: Sampson Low, Marston and Company, 1899.

St. Clair, W. E. Three Years with the Mediterranean Fleet or the Cruise of H.M.S. Inflexible. Valetta: L. Critien, Navy & Army Printer Valetta, - Malta, 1893.

Walker, Michael. Simon's Town : An Historical Review with Early Postcard Illustrations. New updated ed. ed. St. James [Cape Town]: M. Walker, 2010.

Watts, W. H. The Commission of H.M.S. Retribution, North American and West Indies Station. 1902-1904.: 1904.

A Picture Paints a Thousand Words, and Other Clichés

In writing chapters for my thesis, I have been thinking about the use of pictures in academic work, and why scholars can often be reluctant to litter their text with illustrations. Perhaps it is the limits imposed by the publisher, or that there is a feeling that only popular histories use extensive pictures, as they may detract from serious academic discussions and complex ideas.

Through the use of three clichés, I will try to make the case for the inclusion of illustrations.

‘A picture paints a thousand words’. Rather than detract from an argument, a picture can actually augment it. Being able to see an image of a coaling station (like the illustration below), for instance, can help a reader understand how the infrastructure worked, or why certain problems occurred.

A diagram of Yokohama Coaling Station in the 1880s.

‘Assumption makes an ass out of you and me.’ The production of a piece of academic work is a serious endeavour, and often takes months of detailed archival work. It is easy to forget, therefore, that the reader hasn’t seen any of this. This can easily be solved by using a picture to illustrate the kinds of sources that have been used. A discussion about the production of knowledge through reports about coaling stations, therefore, is made even more persuasive by showing examples of the type of knowledge that these reports contained, such as maps (pictured below).

A Map of Port Louis Coaling Station from the Carnarvon Reports.

‘Always start a speech with a joke.’ Maybe this cliché is a little bit of a push, but it is worth considering the role of the picture when presenting research. Although the above points apply equally (arguably more) with presenting work, there is a further use for pictures here. I have often seen the use of a joke to relax the mood, but this requires some comedic skill, and material (not many jokes about coal.) In its place, a well thought out picture which shows the lighter side of the research (such as the one below) can ‘break the ice’ or provide a break between sections of the presentation.

A Sailor in Fancy Dress (http://cas.awm.gov.au/item/EN0132)

   

The West Coast Mainline, and Nineteenth Century Admiralty Coal Contracts

I used to commute to Warwick once a week from St Albans. Thus I used to take a First Capital Connect train to London, then a Virgin train between London and Coventry. I have also 'enjoyed' other parts of First's railway empire in other parts of the country. In a year, there was one cancelled Virgin train. First trains are not only regularly late, or sometimes cancelled, but they often send four carriage trains at peak times. Furthermore, Virgin trains are far superior in every way, and first class is actually worth paying more for, and is only £10 or £15 extra if you go at the right time. Also, if you have a railcard, its always offpeak, making a £90 ish ticket £30.

Anyway, I think I established the better train company there. Which brings me on to Admiralty coal. Through many trials and, most importantly, practical experience, Welsh coal was chosen as the Admiralty coal, over that of northern England. As the Admiralty was the largest steam coal contract, this was a big deal, just like the West Coast mainline is. Welsh coal prices were always higher than northern coal, but in 1889 they were particularly so. Sensing an opportunity, the northern collieries sent a delegation to the Admiralty. They stressed the price issue, as well as that in various trials their product had been shown to be equal.

Despite these protestations, their appeal was rebutted by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord George Hamilton, who suggested that that practical experience had proven that Welsh coal alone was the only suitable fuel for the Navy, due to the ‘special duty and work which the Navy is called upon to perform.’[1]

The performance of the Navy was more important to the Government than saving money based on the spurious promises of collieries whose product had been shown by practical experience of those using it not to have been good enough.  

It is a shame that this government does not feel the same about the importance of the rail network, and more importantly, those who travel on it.

Perhaps it is best to finish with the words of Richard Branson:

'The last two times UK government turned a Virgin bid down the companies they accepted both went bust. Insanity is doing the same thing over & over again & expecting different results. When will UK government learn?'

[1] Welsh Versus North Country Coal, Western Mail, 22 May 1889

Imperial History and the Public

I was at the National Maritime Museum at the weekend, and some things I saw made me think. I was in the excellent East India Company gallery (which was made with assistance from my MA supervisor, Prof. Huw Bowen), and at the end, it asks visitors to comment on the disputed legacy of the EIC.
As far as I could tell (and perhaps, as a scholar, it is difficult for me to have a 'member of the public' opinion), it was a well balanced, well told story, which both told of the immense riches the company brought to Britain, and  the effects, good and bad, this had on India and China.
The comments contained a predictably wide ranging spectrum of opinions. One Indian visitor reflected that British rule had united his country, and had, despite the bad, had lasting good effects on modern India. Several voiced disapproval of the policy of profit above all else, notably the plight of the Indian and Chinese. Both, I think, hold a lot of merit.
One, however, made me question myself. It was, in essence, a tirade against the 'bias' of the exhibition, stating that it focused on the bad only.The arguments are familiar to any imperial historian. We are taught to be ashamed of what was out country's crowning moment. All imperial historians push this myth, with their left leaning agendas.
It is often assumed this is the voice of an older generation, however. But I am starting to think it might not be. Recently, one of my students voiced a similar opinion about the course I was teaching. Frequently, when asked what I study, people respond with pride about the empire, assuming I am some sort of 1900s historian waxing lyrical about how we brought civilisation to the savages.
So where is this coming from? People often say that it is taught badly in schools, but I don't know of anyone who ever got taught about it before university. So if, not taught there, then where? Are people just taking the opinions of an older generation as fact? Are scholars like Niall Ferguson being seen as the most reasonable voice on the Empire? Or are imperial scholars out of touch with the public, and/or reason?
I would be interested to hear any views on this.

A note on TV history

I happened to catch Dominic Sandbrook's 'The 70s' on BBC2 the other night (link is here:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01glsyl) and then came across some comments about it on Twitter and in the press. Whereas I was annoyed how Sandsbrook was referred to as a TV historian, which sounds like he is a historian of television, not a respected author of six books, the press seemed to take issue with his age.

All seemed to be obsessed with the fact that Dominic was born in 1974. How could he possibly know about the 1970s when he was 5 at the end of the decade? The Mirror was particularly scathing about this, suggesting that he was 'the wrong man for the job' and that his age meant that 'his new documentary series not exactly the most authoritative.' (link here: http://www.mirror.co.uk/lifestyle/staying-in/what-s-on-tv/the-70s--sounds-of-the-70s-what-796154)  The Metro suggested that 'being shown round The 70s (BBC2) by historian Dominic Sandbrook was like taking a tour of Paris only to find out your guide hailed from Mile End rather than Montmartre. (Link here: http://www.metro.co.uk/tv/reviews/896319-the-70s-told-us-everything-and-nothing-about-the-period#ixzz1sOVq1HUI)  Even Danny Baker, who I have a lot of respect for, tweeted 'That's odd. Really odd. BBC using presenter on "The 1970s" doc who wasn't actually alive for most of them. Huh?'

For me, I think they have missed the point, and it is worrying how many people seem to think this way. To use the metro's simile, what would be the problem with a Londoner being a Paris tour guide? If he had done his research it would not be a problem. In fact, it may actually help give a more impartial, objective view of the place. To this end, in reply to Danny Baker's comments, @celebjuice (shocking, I know)  retorted 'yeah, he only wrote a great book on them but I guess that's not good enough?' and then brilliantly 'next thing you know they'll be getting non ex-footballers to present football shows on the radio!'

Whereas this isnt a problem for my period (you'd struggle to find someone alive who lived through the 1870s) the attitude shown in the reviews is a disturbing one. Does it mean English scholars are the only ones allowed to study English history, and nothing else? Should we only trust history by those who experienced that which they write about?

I am not suggesting than historians who have written about something that they experienced are any lesser, in fact I am sure many great works have been written this way. But those which aren't are in no way worse than these. In fact the ability to step away from the sources is key to writing objective histories. It is surely more difficult to do this if you have personal memories of a period. Many reviewers were suggesting that the programme did not show the way they experienced the 70s. Perhaps it did miss the main themes (I was born in the 80s, so what do I know?) but there lies the problem. Living through something means you are more likely to write about what you deemed important (Bowie or Bolan etc) rather than what was typical of the time.

Happily the Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/9208952/The-70s-BBC-Two-review.html) provides some hope, concentrating on the argument and the fact that Sandbrook 'certainly knows his subject, a proper historian who specialises in this period, not just a Fiona Bruce type parachuted in to present someone else’s ideas.' That is what should matter, and it doesn't happen enough.

Incidentally, I enjoyed it a lot.