24 January 2022
I have received several emails commiserating with me over my ‘anxiety’ and ‘nightmares’ about marking examination papers. The writers clearly assume I am Dr Robinson in my story Ghoune — that the story is strictly autobiographical and the flummery in it is what actually happens in Cambridge. An hilarious assumption! Actually I first typed out the flummery on a side of paper in 1976 for a colleague who was examining for the first time and certainly was anxious. My sketch was light-hearted and even he realised that the Impactor Librorum was a fantasy. He subsequently became an important archivist. During Black Crow I decided I should work the sketch up into one of my Cambridge Tales, so I asked him if he could send me a copy, but he could not find it.
29 January
Today we raise a glass to Anton Pavlovich on his 162nd birthday (actually today is his saint’s day, he was born on 16 (28) January 1860), and to the simultaneous publication of my shortish biography of him:
Click the cover to find the book on Amazon.
Sam2 and I are very pleased with Amazon’s printing of it, but for one thing: despite four Amazon proofs and all our efforts, they simply can’t get the page margins right or centre the title on the spine. That is to say, the bottom and top white spaces are consistent, but the side margins vary between 9 mm and 14.5 mm, therefore the ‘gutter’ in the middle of a two-page spread varies too. A variation of 5.5 mm in the side margins is far too much. How do they manage it? What on earth is the trouble?
To be fair, even the best printer in Britain, Clays of Bungay who printed George Calderon: Edwardian Genius, printed the book with far tighter left and right margins than we specified. As with Amazon, we were not consulted about this change and there was no way of correcting it. From a minute subcutaneous examination of Clays’ Terms and Conditions, I formed the suspicion that in reality there is 6 mm ‘tolerance’ in trimming the pages of a book. But why so much in the twenty-first century, when everything else is precisely programmed by the computer (e.g. the typesetting)? What is the problem? If anyone out there knows, please explain to us patiently in a Comment!
10 February
Andrew Tatham — himself the author of two highly innovative biographies — was quite right to suggest I should read A.J.A. Symons’s The Quest for Corvo: An Experiment in Biography (1934). It is clearly the progenitor of all those biographies today that have ‘In Search of …’ in their title or subtitle. I can see, therefore, why the book reminded Andrew of my ‘Quest for George’, as he puts it. And like Symons’s, my biography ends by trying to evaluate ‘Who’ its subject ‘Was’.
But there are two vital differences. First, as Andrew says, ‘Corvo [Frederick Rolfe] was a much spikier and more socially awkward character than Calderon’. That is something of an understatement. The culmination of Symons’s ‘Quest’ is to discover that Rolfe was a vicious homosexual paedophile, and to interpret his whole life in terms of his need both to disguise that in Edwardian society and to indulge it. George Calderon could be deliberately elusive, but I can say with certainty that his life was not a pretence.
Second, as everyone agrees, the forensic narrative of how Symons pieced together Rolfe’s life is at least as interesting as Rolfe’s life itself; in fact it is the central continuous plot of the book, and in A.S. Byatt’s words ‘more enthralling than most novels’. Some readers have told me that the story of how I ‘discovered’ George and Kittie’s archive and pieced together their lives was ‘exciting’ and should have been foregrounded in my biography. But I could never, ever have done this, as it was a book entirely about George and Kittie’s lives, not mine. It is a common saying that a biography ‘tells you as much about its author as about its subject’, and it may be implicitly true (I too am a translator and director of Chekhov’s plays, a man of dubious success in the British theatre, a bloke whose life was deeply affected by his experience of Russia, etc), but that is very different from consciously turning a segment of your own life (the ‘Quest’) into your biography’s main narrative.
A remarkable testimony to the vitality of Symons’s method is Carole Angier’s 2021 Speak, Silence: In Search of W.G. Sebald. Sebald is famous for his blend of fiction and non-fiction. Angier set out to investigate just how much of what Sebald presented as fact in his life and art was fiction, by tracing and interviewing those who knew him. Some of these, notably Sebald’s widow, refused to talk to her, which sharpens the suspense. But Angier shows that Sebald did play fast and loose with objective truth. She concludes:
If you read him without questioning, and are moved — that is his main aim. I remind you of the truth. That is the job of the biographer. (p. x)
This is all well and good, but inherent in the ‘personal quest’ method is an element of subjectivity, which can be destabilising. As an aesthete, dandy and epicure himself, and someone whose ‘inclinations have always exceeded my income’, Symons was prone to ‘understanding’ Rolfe’s excesses to the point of compromising his, Symons’s, objectivity — and in my view this happens. Of herself and Sebald, Augier writes:
Though the Holocaust was far from the only tragedy he perceived, it was his tragedy, as a German, the son of a father who had fought in Hitler’s army without question. It was also my tragedy, as the daughter of Viennese Jews who had barely escaped with their lives. I think it is right to see the Holocaust as central to his work. But if I make it too central, that is why. (p. viii)
You rarely encounter a biographer who warns you from the outset that they may be too subjective.
22 February
The invasion of Ukraine has begun from its eastern borders. It was incredible to me to hear the BBC’s correspondent sign off yesterday with the words ‘in Taganrog’. Taganrog on the Azov Sea is where Chekhov was born and he wisely got out of it as fast as he could. It was proverbial for its provinciality, hence the epigram on Alexander I: ‘Vsiu zhizn’ on byl v doroge,/A umer v Taganroge’ (‘He spent all his life travelling [Europe etc], yet died in Taganrog’). In the Soviet period it was not a tourist destination and visas were not issued to it. When I got there in 1970, the director of the Chekhov Museum told me that I was the first westerner they had ever seen and their last foreign visitor was a Hungarian in 1958.
The destruction of Ukraine’s liberty, sovereignty and democracy by military attacks, subversion, blackmail and political murder will now proceed according to all the rules laid down by Machiavelli. NATO and Ukraine are no military threat to Russia whatsoever, but Ukraine’s democracy is a dire threat to Putin. He loathes it. What would happen to him if Russians suddenly remembered what real democracy is and wanted it back? The only reason Putin needs the ‘buffer states’ of Belorussia and post-invasion Ukraine is to protect his own homicidal dictatorship and set Russia back seventy years.
27 February
One thing leads to another…
In January ‘Winterwatch’ featured a report of a Speckled Wood butterfly in a Cornwall garden. It sounded very unlikely, as this triple-brooded butterfly is generally seen April-October. Chris Packham commented that it was ‘possible, because it does hibernate’. The context implied that he meant ‘hibernate as a butterfly’. If he did, then most unusually for Packham he was wrong. The Speckled Wood is unique amongst British butterflies in overwintering both as a caterpillar and a chrysalis, which brings survival advantages and has helped its phenomenal spread northwards through Britain since the 1960s (it has even evolved stronger wing muscles in the process).
The January sighting, which turned out to be genuine, sent my mind back to the very first Speckled Wood that I caught as a boy. I remember it well, as I was out on a nature ramble in some woods with Juin, the adopted Dayak (Bornean) son of a local naturalist, and Juin had helpfully pointed out some areas of undergrowth that we should not go into as they had evil spirits in them. It was a clear day but I recall it being cold — late March. The butterfly fluttered out of some dark pines, I thought it was a moth, and netted it for a look (I did not collect moths). So Speckled Woods could be around earlier than April…
But not in this case! I opened up my old butterfly cabinet, and there it was:
The somewhat florid data label, which normally lives folded up and impaled on the pin beneath the butterfly, means: [Captured by] P.J.S. Miles [in] Betteshanger [Park, East Kent, the woods where Rupert Brooke did his military training in October 1914]; [The] 1st recorded sp[ecimen]. 18 April 1961. Not March, then… But the best-informed local entomologist confirmed that it was the first record for this part of Kent; presumably, this capture was early evidence of its future spread.
I saw other Speckled Wood butterflies in those woods, in dappled sunlight on warm summer and autumn days, but did not catch them, let alone kill them, as I was already aware, aged thirteen, how precarious butterfly populations were. Moreover, I was very into breeding butterflies from the egg. It was deeply satisfying to raise more actual butterflies (‘imagos’) from a brood than would have survived in nature, and I soon could not bring myself to kill them for my collection, so they were released. The local entomologist I referred to had a great collection, but by the time I knew him (1958) he had changed: he was becoming a convinced conservationist. Under his influence, I gave up collecting butterflies when I was fifteen and have been a butterfly conservationist ever since.
So where is this leading..? To this:
Why, sixty years ago, was it still acceptable for boys to collect, i.e. catch and kill, butterflies? (I never heard of girls doing it.) This is what I have frequently asked myself whenever I have attended to the preservation of my small collection from that time, which is now of historical environmental interest.
My answers at the moment would run like this:
(a) It wasn’t wholly acceptable. People of my parents’ generation (of whom the local entomologist above was one) were already doubting it, for both conservation and humane reasons.
(b) The generation above them did find it perfectly acceptable, and they were Late Victorians/ Edwardians. My grandfather, for example, born 1888, encouraged my collecting, two of his friends were serious Edwardian lepidopterists, and they actually passed on to me setting boards, pins, and fine Late Victorian/Edwardian books on the subject. As a boy, I was much more influenced by my grandfather than my father.
(c) It was still thought necessary to the scientific study of lepidoptera. You had to have the set specimen with data label to ‘prove’, say, the occurrence of a species. Paradoxically, perhaps, you had to have the dead specimen of an aberration or ‘variety’, to prove that it existed (i.e. had existed). The study of vast collections of butterflies led to the identification of new species and seasonal/regional forms; to a deeper understanding of butterfly genetics and evolution in action. Nearly all of this has been superseded by highly sophisticated live photography.
So a statement by Chris Packham has led me back to the Edwardians. The explosion of collecting and amateur scientific study of insects in that period is an interesting side to Edwardianism that I had not considered before. Natural history became even more popular, with some fine writers on the subject (e.g. W.H. Hudson of Hampstead, whom George Calderon knew). Women originated the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, which received its charter from Edward VII.
I feel the urge to read my biography of Calderon from cover to cover again for the first time since 2018. There have been new books that are relevant and it would be interesting to discover to what extent I see things differently now. Watch this space, then, from about May onwards, for a return to some personal and guest posts about the Edwardians!
4 March
The invasion officially began on 24 February, but it was clear to some of us well before Christmas what the gameplan was, so there is no need for me to change a word of what I wrote in this diary on 22 February.
BUT: the utterly magnificent solidarity of the Ukrainian people has meant that every day by which they hold back the advance of Russian troops is a victory for Ukraine. According to intelligence reports, the delays have thrown Putin into Hitlerian rages.
Always trust the body language. The dictator’s ‘security council’ were plainly depressed, if not appalled, by the action he was asking them to ‘approve’, and his ‘economic advisers’ looked in total shock and despair. Neither group had known in advance what he was planning to do in Ukraine. Apparently, many govt officials wanted to resign, but were terrified he would accuse them of treason and put them in camps. I think there is a deep reluctance amongst the military, even. They have their own dignity. Implementing the historical fantasies of a murderer and war criminal may not be to their liking.
Where will it go from here? Unfortunately, the endgame will be pure Machiavelli as I said on 22 February. The occupation will be ruthless. People in the West will hardly be able to believe what the Russians perpetrate. We will weep tears of despair and frustration.
BUT: events have shown that the Ukrainian people love their liberty, sovereignty and democracy as their country — those, in addition to everything else, are what their country is for them — and they will never, ever resign themselves to losing them. Democracy is now a part of their identity, written in their blood and bones. At all costs, therefore, Zelensky and his brilliant team must escape and eventually form the government waiting in exile. If they don’t, I am sure Putin will kill them all. Obviously Putin wants to annex the whole country, but I have never believed he has the troops to do it and hold it. He may have to settle for the eastern half and grab the rest later — if he survives that long.
AND: Spot polls in Russia indicate that at most 3 out of 10 people support what Putin is doing. 150 Russian Orthodox clergy have signed a moving petition against it, even though, disgusting to relate, the Patriarchate approves of the invasion. The plotters will already be plotting, if only individually, since they realise that the only way to stop the economic and moral collapse of their country is to remove the psychopath. The Russian people made a terrible mistake twenty years ago in deciding that they had ‘done’ democracy and wanted a ‘strong man’. They were too lazy to make democracy work. Yet never underestimate the Russian people: as Pushkin wrote in similar circumstances, ‘Rossiia vsprianet oto sna’ (‘Russia will spring up from its sleep’). How long, though, will it take?
7 March
To my intense chagrin, Sam&Sam have had to cancel our participation in the British Association for Slavonic and East European Studies (BASEES) conference here in Cambridge 8-10 April. Sam1 in Moscow told me nearly four weeks ago that it was too risky for him to leave Russia, and I agreed. I was determined to man our stall with Jim. However, 85% of our books are in Russian and printed in Russia, so it is now too dangerous for Sam1, with his history of dissidence, to be seen to be associated with a western event whose organisers have publicly condemned the invasion. There was no alternative, then, but to pull out, and the President of BASEES emailed me: ‘I think it is the right decision.’ Moreover, certain ranting, Russophobic members of BASEES are planning to disrupt the conference and I don’t want to be either boycotted by them or harangued/interrogated by them. In the present climate, Sam&Sam would risk looking irrelevant. I fear the conference may not take place at all.
11 March
Some readers have asked me what George Sandison died from, and even whether he did die. Well, he certainly died, at the age of eighty-one, but I haven’t seen his death certificate so I can’t be definitive about the cause. He had had a very stressful day, of course, and it is well known that if you suffer from angina you should not suddenly raise your arms as it will put too much strain on the heart. Two of my relations died this way — one hanging up the washing, the other putting up a pelmet — not to mention other people I know of.
ADVERTISEMENT
SOME RESPONSES TO GEORGE CALDERON: EDWARDIAN GENIUS
‘This meticulous yet nimble book is bound to remain the definitive account of Calderon’s life’ Charlotte Jones, The Times Literary Supplement
‘The effort of detection, it must be said, was worth it. The biography is a delight to read.’ Emeritus Professor Laurence Brockliss, The London Magazine
‘It is a masterly synthesis of your own approach with scholarship and very judicious discussion of the evidence.’ Emeritus Professor Catherine Andreyev, historian
‘This comprehensive, meticulously researched and highly readable biography, which the author describes as a “story” rather than an academic biography…’ Michael Pursglove, East-West Review
‘A monumental scholarly masterpiece that gives real insight into how the Edwardians viewed the world.’Arch Tait, Translator of Natalya Rzhevskaya’s Memoirs of a Wartime Interpreter
‘The book is written with great assurance and the reader always feels in safe hands. I liked the idea of it being a story and I read it the same way I would read a novel.’ Harvey Pitcher, writer
‘Presents the Edwardian age, and Calderon in particular, as new and forward-looking.’ Emeritus Professor Michael Alexander, in Trinity College, Oxford, Report 2017-18
A review by DAMIAN GRANT appears in the comments to Calderonia’s 7 September post.
A review by JOHN DEWEY appears on Amazon UK.
Related
K.N. Das Gupta and Margaret Mitchell in an Indian Dramatic Society production of The Maharani of Arakan, 1913?
The entrance to Fort Brockhurst (picture from Britain’s Past)
A happy memory of Trinity College: undergraduates breakfast together in Downy V. Green, p. 77.
Jean Ryckaert, May 1916.
George Calderon c.1901
Frontis piece by Frank Calderon
Michel and Vera Fokine in “Scheherazade”, 1914 (The Music And Theatre Library of Sweden, creative commons)
George Calderon, 1912
Monarch Butterfly Madeira
Captain of the 11
Book sent to George Calderon in Russia by his mother, Christmas 1895.
Sir Richard Vincent Sutton c. 1913
Basic form of the Calderon coat of arms
Unpublished watercolour by George Calderon, Tahiti 1906
Christmas 1901 Cartoon by George Calderon
Patrick Miles in his summer house, 11 December 2016
Figure from Gauguin’s 1899 painting ‘Tahitian Women with Mango Blossoms’ (left); George Calderon’s pencil sketch ‘Manu’ (right)
George and Kittie Calderon 1905
Colonel Sir Walter Coote Hedley c. 1920
From the diary of a writer-publisher: 17
24 January 2022
I have received several emails commiserating with me over my ‘anxiety’ and ‘nightmares’ about marking examination papers. The writers clearly assume I am Dr Robinson in my story Ghoune — that the story is strictly autobiographical and the flummery in it is what actually happens in Cambridge. An hilarious assumption! Actually I first typed out the flummery on a side of paper in 1976 for a colleague who was examining for the first time and certainly was anxious. My sketch was light-hearted and even he realised that the Impactor Librorum was a fantasy. He subsequently became an important archivist. During Black Crow I decided I should work the sketch up into one of my Cambridge Tales, so I asked him if he could send me a copy, but he could not find it.
29 January
Today we raise a glass to Anton Pavlovich on his 162nd birthday (actually today is his saint’s day, he was born on 16 (28) January 1860), and to the simultaneous publication of my shortish biography of him:
Click the cover to find the book on Amazon.
Sam2 and I are very pleased with Amazon’s printing of it, but for one thing: despite four Amazon proofs and all our efforts, they simply can’t get the page margins right or centre the title on the spine. That is to say, the bottom and top white spaces are consistent, but the side margins vary between 9 mm and 14.5 mm, therefore the ‘gutter’ in the middle of a two-page spread varies too. A variation of 5.5 mm in the side margins is far too much. How do they manage it? What on earth is the trouble?
To be fair, even the best printer in Britain, Clays of Bungay who printed George Calderon: Edwardian Genius, printed the book with far tighter left and right margins than we specified. As with Amazon, we were not consulted about this change and there was no way of correcting it. From a minute subcutaneous examination of Clays’ Terms and Conditions, I formed the suspicion that in reality there is 6 mm ‘tolerance’ in trimming the pages of a book. But why so much in the twenty-first century, when everything else is precisely programmed by the computer (e.g. the typesetting)? What is the problem? If anyone out there knows, please explain to us patiently in a Comment!
10 February
Andrew Tatham — himself the author of two highly innovative biographies — was quite right to suggest I should read A.J.A. Symons’s The Quest for Corvo: An Experiment in Biography (1934). It is clearly the progenitor of all those biographies today that have ‘In Search of …’ in their title or subtitle. I can see, therefore, why the book reminded Andrew of my ‘Quest for George’, as he puts it. And like Symons’s, my biography ends by trying to evaluate ‘Who’ its subject ‘Was’.
But there are two vital differences. First, as Andrew says, ‘Corvo [Frederick Rolfe] was a much spikier and more socially awkward character than Calderon’. That is something of an understatement. The culmination of Symons’s ‘Quest’ is to discover that Rolfe was a vicious homosexual paedophile, and to interpret his whole life in terms of his need both to disguise that in Edwardian society and to indulge it. George Calderon could be deliberately elusive, but I can say with certainty that his life was not a pretence.
Second, as everyone agrees, the forensic narrative of how Symons pieced together Rolfe’s life is at least as interesting as Rolfe’s life itself; in fact it is the central continuous plot of the book, and in A.S. Byatt’s words ‘more enthralling than most novels’. Some readers have told me that the story of how I ‘discovered’ George and Kittie’s archive and pieced together their lives was ‘exciting’ and should have been foregrounded in my biography. But I could never, ever have done this, as it was a book entirely about George and Kittie’s lives, not mine. It is a common saying that a biography ‘tells you as much about its author as about its subject’, and it may be implicitly true (I too am a translator and director of Chekhov’s plays, a man of dubious success in the British theatre, a bloke whose life was deeply affected by his experience of Russia, etc), but that is very different from consciously turning a segment of your own life (the ‘Quest’) into your biography’s main narrative.
A remarkable testimony to the vitality of Symons’s method is Carole Angier’s 2021 Speak, Silence: In Search of W.G. Sebald. Sebald is famous for his blend of fiction and non-fiction. Angier set out to investigate just how much of what Sebald presented as fact in his life and art was fiction, by tracing and interviewing those who knew him. Some of these, notably Sebald’s widow, refused to talk to her, which sharpens the suspense. But Angier shows that Sebald did play fast and loose with objective truth. She concludes:
This is all well and good, but inherent in the ‘personal quest’ method is an element of subjectivity, which can be destabilising. As an aesthete, dandy and epicure himself, and someone whose ‘inclinations have always exceeded my income’, Symons was prone to ‘understanding’ Rolfe’s excesses to the point of compromising his, Symons’s, objectivity — and in my view this happens. Of herself and Sebald, Augier writes:
You rarely encounter a biographer who warns you from the outset that they may be too subjective.
22 February
The invasion of Ukraine has begun from its eastern borders. It was incredible to me to hear the BBC’s correspondent sign off yesterday with the words ‘in Taganrog’. Taganrog on the Azov Sea is where Chekhov was born and he wisely got out of it as fast as he could. It was proverbial for its provinciality, hence the epigram on Alexander I: ‘Vsiu zhizn’ on byl v doroge,/A umer v Taganroge’ (‘He spent all his life travelling [Europe etc], yet died in Taganrog’). In the Soviet period it was not a tourist destination and visas were not issued to it. When I got there in 1970, the director of the Chekhov Museum told me that I was the first westerner they had ever seen and their last foreign visitor was a Hungarian in 1958.
The destruction of Ukraine’s liberty, sovereignty and democracy by military attacks, subversion, blackmail and political murder will now proceed according to all the rules laid down by Machiavelli. NATO and Ukraine are no military threat to Russia whatsoever, but Ukraine’s democracy is a dire threat to Putin. He loathes it. What would happen to him if Russians suddenly remembered what real democracy is and wanted it back? The only reason Putin needs the ‘buffer states’ of Belorussia and post-invasion Ukraine is to protect his own homicidal dictatorship and set Russia back seventy years.
27 February
One thing leads to another…
In January ‘Winterwatch’ featured a report of a Speckled Wood butterfly in a Cornwall garden. It sounded very unlikely, as this triple-brooded butterfly is generally seen April-October. Chris Packham commented that it was ‘possible, because it does hibernate’. The context implied that he meant ‘hibernate as a butterfly’. If he did, then most unusually for Packham he was wrong. The Speckled Wood is unique amongst British butterflies in overwintering both as a caterpillar and a chrysalis, which brings survival advantages and has helped its phenomenal spread northwards through Britain since the 1960s (it has even evolved stronger wing muscles in the process).
The January sighting, which turned out to be genuine, sent my mind back to the very first Speckled Wood that I caught as a boy. I remember it well, as I was out on a nature ramble in some woods with Juin, the adopted Dayak (Bornean) son of a local naturalist, and Juin had helpfully pointed out some areas of undergrowth that we should not go into as they had evil spirits in them. It was a clear day but I recall it being cold — late March. The butterfly fluttered out of some dark pines, I thought it was a moth, and netted it for a look (I did not collect moths). So Speckled Woods could be around earlier than April…
But not in this case! I opened up my old butterfly cabinet, and there it was:
The somewhat florid data label, which normally lives folded up and impaled on the pin beneath the butterfly, means: [Captured by] P.J.S. Miles [in] Betteshanger [Park, East Kent, the woods where Rupert Brooke did his military training in October 1914]; [The] 1st recorded sp[ecimen]. 18 April 1961. Not March, then… But the best-informed local entomologist confirmed that it was the first record for this part of Kent; presumably, this capture was early evidence of its future spread.
I saw other Speckled Wood butterflies in those woods, in dappled sunlight on warm summer and autumn days, but did not catch them, let alone kill them, as I was already aware, aged thirteen, how precarious butterfly populations were. Moreover, I was very into breeding butterflies from the egg. It was deeply satisfying to raise more actual butterflies (‘imagos’) from a brood than would have survived in nature, and I soon could not bring myself to kill them for my collection, so they were released. The local entomologist I referred to had a great collection, but by the time I knew him (1958) he had changed: he was becoming a convinced conservationist. Under his influence, I gave up collecting butterflies when I was fifteen and have been a butterfly conservationist ever since.
So where is this leading..? To this:
Why, sixty years ago, was it still acceptable for boys to collect, i.e. catch and kill, butterflies? (I never heard of girls doing it.) This is what I have frequently asked myself whenever I have attended to the preservation of my small collection from that time, which is now of historical environmental interest.
My answers at the moment would run like this:
(a) It wasn’t wholly acceptable. People of my parents’ generation (of whom the local entomologist above was one) were already doubting it, for both conservation and humane reasons.
(b) The generation above them did find it perfectly acceptable, and they were Late Victorians/ Edwardians. My grandfather, for example, born 1888, encouraged my collecting, two of his friends were serious Edwardian lepidopterists, and they actually passed on to me setting boards, pins, and fine Late Victorian/Edwardian books on the subject. As a boy, I was much more influenced by my grandfather than my father.
(c) It was still thought necessary to the scientific study of lepidoptera. You had to have the set specimen with data label to ‘prove’, say, the occurrence of a species. Paradoxically, perhaps, you had to have the dead specimen of an aberration or ‘variety’, to prove that it existed (i.e. had existed). The study of vast collections of butterflies led to the identification of new species and seasonal/regional forms; to a deeper understanding of butterfly genetics and evolution in action. Nearly all of this has been superseded by highly sophisticated live photography.
So a statement by Chris Packham has led me back to the Edwardians. The explosion of collecting and amateur scientific study of insects in that period is an interesting side to Edwardianism that I had not considered before. Natural history became even more popular, with some fine writers on the subject (e.g. W.H. Hudson of Hampstead, whom George Calderon knew). Women originated the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, which received its charter from Edward VII.
I feel the urge to read my biography of Calderon from cover to cover again for the first time since 2018. There have been new books that are relevant and it would be interesting to discover to what extent I see things differently now. Watch this space, then, from about May onwards, for a return to some personal and guest posts about the Edwardians!
4 March
The invasion officially began on 24 February, but it was clear to some of us well before Christmas what the gameplan was, so there is no need for me to change a word of what I wrote in this diary on 22 February.
BUT: the utterly magnificent solidarity of the Ukrainian people has meant that every day by which they hold back the advance of Russian troops is a victory for Ukraine. According to intelligence reports, the delays have thrown Putin into Hitlerian rages.
Always trust the body language. The dictator’s ‘security council’ were plainly depressed, if not appalled, by the action he was asking them to ‘approve’, and his ‘economic advisers’ looked in total shock and despair. Neither group had known in advance what he was planning to do in Ukraine. Apparently, many govt officials wanted to resign, but were terrified he would accuse them of treason and put them in camps. I think there is a deep reluctance amongst the military, even. They have their own dignity. Implementing the historical fantasies of a murderer and war criminal may not be to their liking.
Where will it go from here? Unfortunately, the endgame will be pure Machiavelli as I said on 22 February. The occupation will be ruthless. People in the West will hardly be able to believe what the Russians perpetrate. We will weep tears of despair and frustration.
BUT: events have shown that the Ukrainian people love their liberty, sovereignty and democracy as their country — those, in addition to everything else, are what their country is for them — and they will never, ever resign themselves to losing them. Democracy is now a part of their identity, written in their blood and bones. At all costs, therefore, Zelensky and his brilliant team must escape and eventually form the government waiting in exile. If they don’t, I am sure Putin will kill them all. Obviously Putin wants to annex the whole country, but I have never believed he has the troops to do it and hold it. He may have to settle for the eastern half and grab the rest later — if he survives that long.
AND: Spot polls in Russia indicate that at most 3 out of 10 people support what Putin is doing. 150 Russian Orthodox clergy have signed a moving petition against it, even though, disgusting to relate, the Patriarchate approves of the invasion. The plotters will already be plotting, if only individually, since they realise that the only way to stop the economic and moral collapse of their country is to remove the psychopath. The Russian people made a terrible mistake twenty years ago in deciding that they had ‘done’ democracy and wanted a ‘strong man’. They were too lazy to make democracy work. Yet never underestimate the Russian people: as Pushkin wrote in similar circumstances, ‘Rossiia vsprianet oto sna’ (‘Russia will spring up from its sleep’). How long, though, will it take?
7 March
To my intense chagrin, Sam&Sam have had to cancel our participation in the British Association for Slavonic and East European Studies (BASEES) conference here in Cambridge 8-10 April. Sam1 in Moscow told me nearly four weeks ago that it was too risky for him to leave Russia, and I agreed. I was determined to man our stall with Jim. However, 85% of our books are in Russian and printed in Russia, so it is now too dangerous for Sam1, with his history of dissidence, to be seen to be associated with a western event whose organisers have publicly condemned the invasion. There was no alternative, then, but to pull out, and the President of BASEES emailed me: ‘I think it is the right decision.’ Moreover, certain ranting, Russophobic members of BASEES are planning to disrupt the conference and I don’t want to be either boycotted by them or harangued/interrogated by them. In the present climate, Sam&Sam would risk looking irrelevant. I fear the conference may not take place at all.
11 March
Some readers have asked me what George Sandison died from, and even whether he did die. Well, he certainly died, at the age of eighty-one, but I haven’t seen his death certificate so I can’t be definitive about the cause. He had had a very stressful day, of course, and it is well known that if you suffer from angina you should not suddenly raise your arms as it will put too much strain on the heart. Two of my relations died this way — one hanging up the washing, the other putting up a pelmet — not to mention other people I know of.
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SOME RESPONSES TO GEORGE CALDERON: EDWARDIAN GENIUS
‘This meticulous yet nimble book is bound to remain the definitive account of Calderon’s life’ Charlotte Jones, The Times Literary Supplement
‘The effort of detection, it must be said, was worth it. The biography is a delight to read.’ Emeritus Professor Laurence Brockliss, The London Magazine
‘It is a masterly synthesis of your own approach with scholarship and very judicious discussion of the evidence.’ Emeritus Professor Catherine Andreyev, historian
‘This comprehensive, meticulously researched and highly readable biography, which the author describes as a “story” rather than an academic biography…’ Michael Pursglove, East-West Review
‘A monumental scholarly masterpiece that gives real insight into how the Edwardians viewed the world.’Arch Tait, Translator of Natalya Rzhevskaya’s Memoirs of a Wartime Interpreter
‘The book is written with great assurance and the reader always feels in safe hands. I liked the idea of it being a story and I read it the same way I would read a novel.’ Harvey Pitcher, writer
‘Presents the Edwardian age, and Calderon in particular, as new and forward-looking.’ Emeritus Professor Michael Alexander, in Trinity College, Oxford, Report 2017-18
A review by DAMIAN GRANT appears in the comments to Calderonia’s 7 September post.
A review by JOHN DEWEY appears on Amazon UK.
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