Discussion:
[OT]: Noble detectives in fiction
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Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-05 14:19:44 UTC
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Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"

Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
--
athel
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-05 15:32:15 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
That looks suspiciously like a quiz!

Was Le Floch a marquis? He was the illegitimate son of a marquis
certainly. Did he ever inherit the title?
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-05 16:26:33 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
That looks suspiciously like a quiz!
Oh dear. No, it's emphatically not a quiz, it's a genuine question, to
which I have no idea of the answer. I was just starting to read a novel
Crime sur la Lac Léman, by Christian Jacq, about Inspector Higgins (the
first I've read) when it occurred to me.

Come to think of it, Brunetti's the son-in-law of a count.

Hercule Poirot was probably a viscount, as sufficiently distinguished
Belgians have (today) an automatic claim to a suitable rank. The Nobel
prizewinner Christian de Duve was made a viscount. The particular
Belgian scientist that I know best would, I think, be entitled to be a
baron if he chose to claim it. Definitely a knight, as he told me some
years ago when he told me about de Duve.
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Was Le Floch a marquis? He was the illegitimate son of a marquis
certainly. Did he ever inherit the title?
I seem to recall that at some point the King addressed him as M. le
Marquis. I think that illegitimate or not his claim to nobility was
recognized. The rules could always be broken by the rich and powerful.

In modern France illegitimate children have the same rights of
inheritance (of wealth, not titles, as modern France doesn't officially
recognize titles) as legitimate children (if they can prove it).
--
athel
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-05 21:58:55 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
That looks suspiciously like a quiz!
Oh dear. No, it's emphatically not a quiz, it's a genuine question, to
which I have no idea of the answer. I was just starting to read a novel
Crime sur la Lac Léman, by Christian Jacq, about Inspector Higgins (the
first I've read) when it occurred to me.
Come to think of it, Brunetti's the son-in-law of a count.
Hercule Poirot was probably a viscount, as sufficiently distinguished
Belgians have (today) an automatic claim to a suitable rank. The Nobel
prizewinner Christian de Duve was made a viscount. The particular
Belgian scientist that I know best would, I think, be entitled to be a
baron if he chose to claim it. Definitely a knight, as he told me some
years ago when he told me about de Duve.
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Was Le Floch a marquis? He was the illegitimate son of a marquis
certainly. Did he ever inherit the title?
I seem to recall that at some point the King addressed him as M. le
Marquis. I think that illegitimate or not his claim to nobility was
recognized. The rules could always be broken by the rich and powerful.
In modern France illegitimate children have the same rights of
inheritance (of wealth, not titles, as modern France doesn't officially
recognize titles) as legitimate children (if they can prove it).
Those Belgians are completely silly about their so-called aristocracy.
The Dutch did much better: they did not allow their newly created kings
to create new aristocracy, (except in their own house)

Jan
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-05 22:31:26 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
That looks suspiciously like a quiz!
Oh dear. No, it's emphatically not a quiz, it's a genuine question, to
which I have no idea of the answer. I was just starting to read a novel
Crime sur la Lac Léman, by Christian Jacq, about Inspector Higgins (the
first I've read) when it occurred to me.
Come to think of it, Brunetti's the son-in-law of a count.
...

I don't think that makes him a member of the aristocracy, a fact that I
think Count [googles] Falier is quite clear on (though I haven't read
all the books).
--
Jerry Friedman
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-05 21:58:54 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.

Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?

Jan
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-05 22:46:08 UTC
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Always the intention I think. David Roberts started a new series
featuring Adam Harkaway, invalided out of the army when injured
in the Boer War, with the publication of The House In Holywell
Street in March.
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-06 08:05:41 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Always the intention I think.
Agreed. I won't add spoilers, but at book ten
the series is in all respects at natural ends.
It seems likely that David Roberts planned it that way
right from the start. (just like Sjowall and Wahloo did)
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
David Roberts started a new series featuring Adam Harkaway, invalided out
of the army when injured in the Boer War, with the publication of The
House In Holywell Street in March.
Yes, thanks, I had seen it.
BTW, and quite OT, the bastards at Amazon have closed Goodreads.
You now need to register with an email adress,
or an Amazon account, to see it.

So goodbye to them,

Jan
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-06 02:48:08 UTC
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
"Real life"? Kennedy was ambassador only from early '38 to '40. JFK turned
21 that year and was at Harvard. Bobby and Ted were in high school. Joe Jr.
did a year at the LSE after graduating from Harvard in '38, then went back
to Harvard Law School.
Post by J. J. Lodder
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-06 08:05:40 UTC
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Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
"Real life"? Kennedy was ambassador only from early '38 to '40. JFK turned
21 that year and was at Harvard. Bobby and Ted were in high school. Joe Jr.
did a year at the LSE after graduating from Harvard in '38, then went back
to Harvard Law School.
It would seem that David Roberts is much better than you
at historical research.
You really should have taken a brief look, before commenting.
Here they are
<https://www.jfklibrary.org/Asset-Viewer/HslkuaUuqEutst0MrOuciQ.aspx>
on their way to visiting parliament to hear Chamberlain announce war,
September 3, 1939.

Not hard to find at all, and moreover JFK wrote a book
'Why England Slept' about his view on it.
<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Why_England_Slept>
(actually an expamnded version of his thesis)

JFK saw Luftwaffe bombs fall on London while there,

Jan
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-06 11:36:52 UTC
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
"Real life"? Kennedy was ambassador only from early '38 to '40. JFK turned
21 that year and was at Harvard. Bobby and Ted were in high school. Joe Jr.
did a year at the LSE after graduating from Harvard in '38, then went back
to Harvard Law School.
It would seem that David Roberts is much better than you
at historical research.
You really should have taken a brief look, before commenting.
Here they are
<https://www.jfklibrary.org/Asset-Viewer/HslkuaUuqEutst0MrOuciQ.aspx>
Those are his three oldest children, not "the Kennedy brothers."
Post by J. J. Lodder
on their way to visiting parliament to hear Chamberlain announce war,
September 3, 1939.
So they had a bit of summer vacation at daddy's office before returning
to school?
Post by J. J. Lodder
Not hard to find at all, and moreover JFK wrote a book
'Why England Slept' about his view on it.
<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Why_England_Slept>
(actually an expamnded version of his thesis)
His UNDERGRADUATE honors thesis at Harvard.
Post by J. J. Lodder
JFK saw Luftwaffe bombs fall on London while there,
What day was that?,
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-06 08:21:00 UTC
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
--
athel
charles
2018-08-06 08:39:47 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
because, the police, knowing their lowly status would look up to them.
--
from KT24 in Surrey, England
"I'd rather die of exhaustion than die of boredom" Thomas Carlyle
Cheryl
2018-08-06 11:38:42 UTC
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Post by charles
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
because, the police, knowing their lowly status would look up to them.
No, because their readers adore aristocrats and like reading about them!

Possibly without reflecting what this might imply about their (the
readers') status.
--
Cheryl
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-06 12:04:26 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
You missed Lord Edward Corinth, (and Verity Browne)
jaded aristocrat and leftist journalist.
It is a series of ten books by David Roberts set in the 1930s,
mostly London,
Set in real life, (unlike Wimsey), against the omnious approach of WWII.
The plots have real life relevance.
Many really existing historical persons appear,
even the Kennedy brothers.
Characteristic period covers.
The series seems to have ended once and for all at #10,
coinciding with the outbreak of WWII.
Recommended by the detective reading friend who liked Floc'h.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds). It is true only that those with
aristocratic backgrounds have tended to be popular with readers,
but even there they may have an 'unfair' advantage in that the
whole genre was for many years rooted almost exclusively in
the world of the noble and rich.
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-06 14:37:54 UTC
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...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds? Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?

However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird. What's the attraction?
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
It is true only that those with
aristocratic backgrounds have tended to be popular with readers,
but even there they may have an 'unfair' advantage in that the
whole genre was for many years rooted almost exclusively in
the world of the noble and rich.
The soft-boiled half of the genre, anyway.
--
Jerry Friedman
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-06 15:06:30 UTC
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Post by Jerry Friedman
...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds? Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?
http://detecs.org/contents.html

Not one that comprehensive for aristocrats so far.
Post by Jerry Friedman
However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird. What's the attraction?
For the author the advantage is that they have access to people's
lives at a deep level that doesn't need contortions to be convincing.
They can be present at death beds, confessions, and crises without
the writer needing pages of justification or coincidences to put
them there. And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
Peter Duncanson [BrE]
2018-08-06 21:22:08 UTC
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On Mon, 6 Aug 2018 08:06:30 -0700 (PDT), Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Jerry Friedman
...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds? Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?
http://detecs.org/contents.html
Not one that comprehensive for aristocrats so far.
Post by Jerry Friedman
However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird. What's the attraction?
For the author the advantage is that they have access to people's
lives at a deep level that doesn't need contortions to be convincing.
They can be present at death beds, confessions, and crises without
the writer needing pages of justification or coincidences to put
them there. And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
There is also the point that aristocrats with inherited wealth don't
have spend hours a day earning a living. They can spend as much time as
they like pursuing the hobby of "detecting". Priests are not in exactly
the same position but they are paid a stipend which is not based on
hours worked or the results of their religious activities. They can, at
least in fiction, spend time detecting.

Fictional aristocrats and priests are seen as people with plenty of free
time who do not need to be paid for their detective activities.

Real private detectives were/are paid for their work.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Private_investigator
--
Peter Duncanson, UK
(in alt.usage.english)
s***@gowanhill.com
2018-08-09 19:21:58 UTC
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Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
Fictional aristocrats and priests are seen as people with plenty of free
time who do not need to be paid for their detective activities.
Lord Peter Wimsey financed Miss Climpson's Agency (aka The Cattery)

Owain
Dingbat
2018-08-13 05:52:10 UTC
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Post by s***@gowanhill.com
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
Fictional aristocrats and priests are seen as people with plenty of free
time who do not need to be paid for their detective activities.
Lord Peter Wimsey financed Miss Climpson's Agency (aka The Cattery)
Owain
Talking about finances, the latest incarnation of Sherlock Holmes in cinema,
set in modern London, has introduced a twist in the plot. Feeling obliged
to explain to the viewer how Mrs. Hudson can afford the property in
central London that she rents to Holmes, they have provided the
explanation that she inherited loads of money from her late drug lord
husband Frank Hudson. A gratuitous twist is that Mrs. Hudson used to be
an exotic dancer.
http://sherlocked.wikia.com/wiki/Mrs._Hudson
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-13 11:36:24 UTC
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Post by Dingbat
Post by s***@gowanhill.com
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
Fictional aristocrats and priests are seen as people with plenty of free
time who do not need to be paid for their detective activities.
Lord Peter Wimsey financed Miss Climpson's Agency (aka The Cattery)
Owain
Talking about finances, the latest incarnation of Sherlock Holmes in cinema,
TV
Post by Dingbat
set in modern London, has introduced a twist in the plot. Feeling obliged
to explain to the viewer how Mrs. Hudson can afford the property in
central London that she rents to Holmes, they have provided the
explanation that she inherited loads of money from her late drug lord
husband Frank Hudson. A gratuitous twist is that Mrs. Hudson used to be
an exotic dancer.
http://sherlocked.wikia.com/wiki/Mrs._Hudson
Actually the latest incarnation of Mrs Hudson is in Elementary as a
transgender expert in Ancient Greek who acts as muse and mistress
to rich men. Not seen since season 3 it is not clear whether she is still
giving the Holmes brownstone a once over every week.
Kerr-Mudd,John
2018-08-14 10:00:49 UTC
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On Friday, August 10, 2018 at 12:52:01 AM UTC+5:30,
Post by s***@gowanhill.com
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
Fictional aristocrats and priests are seen as people with plenty of
free time who do not need to be paid for their detective
activities.
Lord Peter Wimsey financed Miss Climpson's Agency (aka The Cattery)
Owain
Talking about finances, the latest incarnation of Sherlock Holmes in cinema,
IME it was done in the BBC TV serial:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sherlock_(TV_series)
set in modern London, has introduced a twist in the plot. Feeling
obliged to explain to the viewer how Mrs. Hudson can afford the
property in central London that she rents to Holmes, they have
provided the explanation that she inherited loads of money from her
late drug lord husband Frank Hudson. A gratuitous twist is that Mrs.
Hudson used to be an exotic dancer.
http://sherlocked.wikia.com/wiki/Mrs._Hudson
--
Bah, and indeed, Humbug.
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-07 14:05:49 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Jerry Friedman
...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds? Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?
http://detecs.org/contents.html
Not one that comprehensive for aristocrats so far.
Thanks. There are some extra people there--Adele Rothstein, the rabbi's
mother? Montague Egg?--but it's certainly over 200.

(For people who are wondering, Egg is in the "Other" section. There are
much longer lists of "Reverends", "Fathers", etc.)
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Jerry Friedman
However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird. What's the attraction?
For the author the advantage is that they have access to people's
lives at a deep level that doesn't need contortions to be convincing.
They can be present at death beds, confessions, and crises without
the writer needing pages of justification or coincidences to put
them there.
That's an interesting point. Maybe the reason I didn't think of it is
that in the Father Brown stories and the one Rabbi Small novel I've
read, that didn't happen all that much, as I recall.
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
--
Jerry Friedman
Cheryl
2018-08-07 14:26:40 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds?  Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?
http://detecs.org/contents.html
Not one that comprehensive for aristocrats so far.
Thanks.  There are some extra people there--Adele Rothstein, the rabbi's
mother? Montague Egg?--but it's certainly over 200.
(For people who are wondering, Egg is in the "Other" section.  There are
much longer lists of "Reverends", "Fathers", etc.)
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird.  What's the attraction?
For the author the advantage is that they have access to people's
lives at a deep level that doesn't need contortions to be convincing.
They can be present at death beds, confessions, and crises without
the writer needing pages of justification or coincidences to put
them there.
That's an interesting point.  Maybe the reason I didn't think of it is
that in the Father Brown stories and the one Rabbi Small novel I've
read, that didn't happen all that much, as I recall.
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't a
parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been mainly
worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening and
preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father Brown,
of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the mouthpiece of
Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't remember any
agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the ex-helicopter pilot
working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting Thomas, either.

I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.

Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would hardly have
time to investigate murders, what with services (regular and funerals
etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of those), visits to homes,
hospitals and nursing homes, as required (many of these have chaplains,
but naturally regular church-goers like visits from their own clergy),
visits to whatever institution is a particular favourite charity for the
church (jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off the
street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in arms about
something or other to do with the church, and so on and so forth. I say
"church" but maybe other religious establishments are similar.

Amateur detectives need to be retired (with a pension large enough to
free them from paid work) or have a large private income. Or the reader
simply has to ignore the way the detective never has such a hectic
schedule that they can't take time off to interview suspects and never
has to worry about paying the bills if a murderer takes a bit long to
identify.
--
Cheryl
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-07 15:32:46 UTC
Reply
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[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't a
parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been mainly
worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening and
preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father Brown,
of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the mouthpiece of
Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't remember any
agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the ex-helicopter pilot
working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would hardly have
time to investigate murders, what with services (regular and funerals
etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of those), visits to homes,
hospitals and nursing homes, as required (many of these have chaplains,
but naturally regular church-goers like visits from their own clergy),
visits to whatever institution is a particular favourite charity for the
church (jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off the
street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in arms about
something or other to do with the church, and so on and so forth. I say
"church" but maybe other religious establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days, I
looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon Tallis, a
character in some of her children's books. It says a bishop remarks
about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's forgotten he's a priest."

In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives with
plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were also
eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
Post by Cheryl
Amateur detectives need to be retired (with a pension large enough to
free them from paid work) or have a large private income. Or the reader
simply has to ignore the way the detective never has such a hectic
schedule that they can't take time off to interview suspects and never
has to worry about paying the bills if a murderer takes a bit long to
identify.
Or the detective has to get things done in a remarkably short time, or
with help. But it's the private detectives who worry about the bills if
the case goes on too long.
--
Jerry Friedman
Cheryl
2018-08-07 15:42:49 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't
a parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been
mainly worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening
and preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma,
and those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't
remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the
ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting
Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
I forgot that one. I did read it, long ago.
--
Cheryl
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-07 17:25:44 UTC
Reply
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Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Cheryl
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
I forgot that one. I did read it, long ago.
Because of it, I got a few pages into every one of Eco's subsequent novels.
Never had any trouble with his essays, though!
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-07 17:19:00 UTC
Reply
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Post by Jerry Friedman
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days, I
looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon Tallis, a
character in some of her children's books. It says a bishop remarks
about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's forgotten he's a priest."
"Canon Tallis" is a remarkably faithful portrait of Canon Edward Nason West,
Sub-Dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine for many years. He did not,
as far as I know, engage in detective work, but he was one of the spiritual
leaders of the Community of the Holy Spirit (it was said that he designed
their seven-pointed star logo with vignette of the Dove representin the Spirit),
and a close friend of Mrs. Franklin ("Madeleine L'Engle"; she first published
under her actual maiden name and didn't change it when she married Hugh Franklin,
who was best known as "Dr. Tyler" on one of the daytime soaps, I think *All
My Children*).

I never heard _why_ Canon West refused the title Dean of the Cathedral, a normal
sort of administrative position, but he was adamant about that.

"Canon Tallis" was named for the Tallis Canon, a very useful tune (by Thomas
Tallis) that the Franklins did use for singing grace around the dinner table,
and similar occasions.

(Oh, look, an idiomatic "did." Here it notes that art imitated life on that
matter.)

My favorite of all her books in the various interlocking series is *The Young
Unicorns*, which I think is where Dr. Shastri and Dr. Shen-Su were introduced.
In later years, she denied that they were a couple, but it was quite obvious.
Peter Duncanson [BrE]
2018-08-08 21:23:47 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't a
parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been mainly
worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening and
preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father Brown,
of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the mouthpiece of
Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't remember any
agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the ex-helicopter pilot
working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would hardly have
time to investigate murders, what with services (regular and funerals
etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of those), visits to homes,
hospitals and nursing homes, as required (many of these have chaplains,
but naturally regular church-goers like visits from their own clergy),
visits to whatever institution is a particular favourite charity for the
church (jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off the
street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in arms about
something or other to do with the church, and so on and so forth. I say
"church" but maybe other religious establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days, I
looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon Tallis, a
character in some of her children's books. It says a bishop remarks
about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives with
plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were also
eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars.
There were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists

Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Cheryl
Amateur detectives need to be retired (with a pension large enough to
free them from paid work) or have a large private income. Or the reader
simply has to ignore the way the detective never has such a hectic
schedule that they can't take time off to interview suspects and never
has to worry about paying the bills if a murderer takes a bit long to
identify.
Or the detective has to get things done in a remarkably short time, or
with help. But it's the private detectives who worry about the bills if
the case goes on too long.
--
Peter Duncanson, UK
(in alt.usage.english)
Cheryl
2018-08-08 21:48:34 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they
didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.

I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.

In fact, they were rather like that character I often came across in
novels, except they'd taken orders. That is, the Gentleman (or Lady) of
Leisure who somehow managed to float through life with nothing they
really had to do, thanks to some inheritance or fortunate marriage and
the money to hire plenty of servants - who never seemed to need
supervising. So if they did have an interest in astronomy, natural
history or mathematics, they could indulge that. It probably is a
natural extension to have some of them be amateur detectives.

I always wanted to be a Lady of Leisure. I might yet make it when I
retire, although most retired people tell me they are busier than ever.
--
Cheryl
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-09 06:11:03 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they
didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and those
years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by
the church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between
the church(es) and education was very close.
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.

*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting this
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
Post by Cheryl
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with
an income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work,
and certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy
have today.
In fact, they were rather like that character I often came across in
novels, except they'd taken orders. That is, the Gentleman (or Lady) of
Leisure who somehow managed to float through life with nothing they
really had to do, thanks to some inheritance or fortunate marriage and
the money to hire plenty of servants - who never seemed to need
supervising. So if they did have an interest in astronomy, natural
history or mathematics, they could indulge that. It probably is a
natural extension to have some of them be amateur detectives.
I always wanted to be a Lady of Leisure. I might yet make it when I
retire, although most retired people tell me they are busier than ever.
--
athel
Cheryl
2018-08-09 08:56:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and those
years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books.  It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by
the church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between
the church(es) and education was very close.
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.
*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting this
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
And Mendel was a monk, and so squarely in the religious professional who
studied on the side, enough to become a professional in something else
category. The precedent for that actually goes way back; I think St.
Paul was a tentmaker.

Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.

Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
--
Cheryl
Peter Moylan
2018-08-09 09:19:52 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could
you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally,
a clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times -
but I think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education
became more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
The transition might have been roughly at Isaac Newton's time. Newton
managed to be a Professor without taking holy orders. This put him in
conflict with the establishment, but he managed to hold his ground. That
must surely have given comfort to those who came after him.
--
Peter Moylan http://www.pmoylan.org
Newcastle, NSW, Australia
Cheryl
2018-08-09 09:35:05 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could
you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally,
a clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times -
but I think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
 practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education
became more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
The transition might have been roughly at Isaac Newton's time. Newton
managed to be a Professor without taking holy orders. This put him in
conflict with the establishment, but he managed to hold his ground. That
must surely have given comfort to those who came after him.
But Newton is a poor example for a person who didn't combine religion
and science, since he wouldn't take holy orders because of religious
scruples.

I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
I had been taught to revere him as a scientist without getting any
information about his life and work as a whole, or what exactly
"science" was at the time. Some time later, the history of science was
supposed to have a somewhat larger part in the school curriculum, but
students thought it was boring and teachers thought it was unnecessary.

Newton was also apparently an excellent administrator, a talent that
doesn't always go along with brilliance in other fields, since he ran
the Royal Mint for years.
--
Cheryl
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-09 09:46:32 UTC
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[ ... ]
Newton was also apparently an excellent administrator,
As indeed was Mendel. After he rose through the ranks of his monastery
he became abbot, a job he fulfilled with great skill, but unfortunately
it made it impossible to carry of with his study of peas.
a talent that doesn't always go along with brilliance in other fields,
since he ran the Royal Mint for years.
--
athel
Cheryl
2018-08-09 10:26:04 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
[ ... ]
Newton was also apparently an excellent administrator,
As indeed was Mendel. After he rose through the ranks of his monastery
he became abbot, a job he fulfilled with great skill, but unfortunately
it made it impossible to carry of with his study of peas.
I don't think I knew he eventually became an abbot. It is a pity he
couldn't continue with his work on genetics - although I suppose for the
monastery, it was better if he was abbot!
--
Cheryl
Peter Moylan
2018-08-09 09:55:32 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point
could you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least
nominally, a clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than
Victorian times - but I think the idea that an educated person
was also educated in and practiced religion lingered on a bit
even after higher education became more secular. Aided, of
course, by anti-Catholic laws.
The transition might have been roughly at Isaac Newton's time.
Newton managed to be a Professor without taking holy orders. This
put him in conflict with the establishment, but he managed to hold
his ground. That must surely have given comfort to those who came
after him.
But Newton is a poor example for a person who didn't combine
religion and science, since he wouldn't take holy orders because of
religious scruples.
That was his opinion. My point, though, was that he managed to break the
rules and get away with it. Scholars before him had to either take holy
orders or leave the university. The fact that he managed to keep his
post while refusing to satisfy the religious requirement must mean that
a crack was starting to appear in that rule ... either because he was
the first to open that crack, or because the rule was on the way to
being weakened.
--
Peter Moylan http://www.pmoylan.org
Newcastle, NSW, Australia
Cheryl
2018-08-09 10:22:13 UTC
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Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point
could you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least
nominally, a clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than
Victorian times - but I think the idea that an educated person
was also educated in and practiced religion lingered on a bit
even after higher education became more secular. Aided, of
course, by anti-Catholic laws.
The transition might have been roughly at Isaac Newton's time.
Newton managed to be a Professor without taking holy orders. This
put him in conflict with the establishment, but he managed to hold
his ground. That must surely have given comfort to those who came
after him.
But Newton is a poor example for a person who didn't combine
religion and science, since he wouldn't take holy orders because of
religious scruples.
That was his opinion. My point, though, was that he managed to break the
rules and get away with it. Scholars before him had to either take holy
orders or leave the university. The fact that he managed to keep his
post while refusing to satisfy the religious requirement must mean that
a crack was starting to appear in that rule ... either because he was
the first to open that crack, or because the rule was on the way to
being weakened.
Yes, you have a point. I would have thought it was a bit later, but it's
not something I've read much about.
--
Cheryl
Anders D. Nygaard
2018-08-09 21:24:20 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could
you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally,
a clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times -
but I think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
 practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education
became more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
The transition might have been roughly at Isaac Newton's time. Newton
managed to be a Professor without taking holy orders. This put him in
conflict with the establishment, but he managed to hold his ground. That
must surely have given comfort to those who came after him.
But Newton is a poor example for a person who didn't combine religion
and science, since he wouldn't take holy orders because of religious
scruples.
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult years;
most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
In fact, he was so engrossed in the latter that he professed little
interest in his work in physics and mathematics, even though he got many
enquiries from home and abroad - this disinterest seems to have been
mainly motivated by avoiding squabbles like the famous priority
discussions with Leibniz on calculus.
Post by Cheryl
I had been taught to revere him as a scientist without getting any
information about his life and work as a whole, or what exactly
"science" was at the time. Some time later, the history of science was
supposed to have a somewhat larger part in the school curriculum, but
students thought it was boring and teachers thought it was unnecessary.
Newton was also apparently an excellent administrator, a talent that
doesn't always go along with brilliance in other fields, since he ran
the Royal Mint for years.
He took over a failing institution and turned it around, again in less
than ten years, and retained the post as a sinecure for many years
after. Yes, I think that "excellent" also covers this aspect of him.

/Anders, Denmark (who happens to have just finished a large Newton
biography - by Danish philosoper Carl Henrik Koch)
Peter Moylan
2018-08-10 02:07:30 UTC
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Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult
years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend to do
their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do brilliant work
in later years, but not many. Many more move over to work on less
demanding problems. Another common solution, especially these days, is
to focus on collaborative work with students who are still in their
creative years.

So I'm not surprised that Newton made his major contributions when
young, and then switched to less challenging studies.

One point we tend to forget is that both bible studies and alchemy were
non-quirky studies in those days. There were probably more scholars
focusing on religious themes than on any other area.

As for alchemy: I have long held that alchemy was just the early phase
of modern chemistry. It was a science, in that its practitioners were
trying to work out how things worked. It's true that the alchemists went
down a lot of false trails, but that's normal when one is working on the
boundaries of current knowledge.

No doubt alchemy was considered to be a bit disrespectable at the time,
but so were all sciences.
--
Peter Moylan http://www.pmoylan.org
Newcastle, NSW, Australia
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-10 06:52:11 UTC
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Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult
years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend to do
their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do brilliant work
in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that I'd
be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
Post by Peter Moylan
Many more move over to work on less
demanding problems. Another common solution, especially these days, is
to focus on collaborative work with students who are still in their
creative years.
So I'm not surprised that Newton made his major contributions when
young, and then switched to less challenging studies.
One point we tend to forget is that both bible studies and alchemy were
non-quirky studies in those days. There were probably more scholars
focusing on religious themes than on any other area.
As for alchemy: I have long held that alchemy was just the early phase
of modern chemistry. It was a science, in that its practitioners were
trying to work out how things worked. It's true that the alchemists went
down a lot of false trails, but that's normal when one is working on the
boundaries of current knowledge.
No doubt alchemy was considered to be a bit disrespectable at the time,
but so were all sciences.
--
athel
Peter Moylan
2018-08-10 07:22:48 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only
had unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely
interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly
"Opticks" and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his
sixty-plus adult years; most of the rest he spent on bible
studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend
to do their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do
brilliant work in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that
I'd be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
I'd love to, but I'm just repeating something I learnt years ago. The
argument seemed compelling at the time, but to be honest I've forgotten
who was held up as examples.

A quick sampling of some names in Wikipedia just now didn't much help
me; partly, I think, because there used to be a tendency not to publish
new theory until some time after the work was done. Still, you can look
at a few of the "big names" in mathematics and see that they did
brilliant work right at the beginning of their careers. What they did
later was still respectable, but was often about the "applied" kind of
problems that required more perspiration than inspiration. That,
however, is just my impression. It would take a lot more mining of
examples to see whether that was a general trend.
--
Peter Moylan http://www.pmoylan.org
Newcastle, NSW, Australia
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-10 08:56:16 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult
years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend to do
their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do brilliant work
in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that I'd
be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
I think it is a myth, created by doing dumb sociology of science.
Young students have time, and little distraction.
Senior professors otoh, well you know.
An obvious counterexample is Andrew Wiles, with Fermat's proof at forty.
(he succeeeded by make-believe that he was doing something else)

Feynman hit the nail on the head when he claimed
that you need big blocks of undisturbed time
to get going anywhere with a hard problem.
He developed his doctrine of 'active irresponsibility'
to get some.

Feynman could afford to, few others can.

Jan
--
"Let George do it" (Richard Feynman)
Madhu
2018-08-10 09:59:25 UTC
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly
"Opticks" and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his
sixty-plus adult years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies
and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend
to do their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do
brilliant work in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that
I'd be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
I think it is a myth, created by doing dumb sociology of science.
Young students have time, and little distraction. Senior professors
otoh, well you know. An obvious counterexample is Andrew Wiles, with
Fermat's proof at forty. (he succeeeded by make-believe that he was
doing something else)
It may be a matter of expediency (in the various departments)...

I think the topic was addressed by S.Chandrasekhar in his public
lectures. He quotes

G.H.Hardy in "A Mathematician's apology"

No mathematician should ever allow himself to forget
that mathematics is a young man's game... Galois died at
twenty-one, Abel at twenty-seven, Ramanujam at
thirty-three, Riemann at forty. There have been men who
have done work a good deal later ... [but] I do not know
of an instance of a major mathematical advance initiated
by a man past fifty ... A mathematician may still be
competent enough at sixty, but it is useless to expect
him to have original ideas,

G.H.Hardy on Ramanujam's death:

The real tragedy about Ramanujam was not his early
death. It is of course a disaster that any great man
should die young: but a mathematician is comparitively
old at thirty, and his death may be less of a
catastrophe than it seems

Chandrasekhar would then go on to offer a counter-example in Rayleigh
and his 446 brilliant papers. After citing J.J.Thompson's Dec. 1921
memorial address on Rayleigh at Westminster Abbey, he comments

And perhaps there is a clue also in Rayleigh's response to his
son (also a distinguished physicist) when he asked him to
comment on Huxley's remark I quoted earlier, `that a man of
science past sixty does more harm than good.' Rayleigh was
sixty-seven at that time, and his response was: `That may be if
he undertakes to criticise the work of younger men, but I do not
see why it needs to be so if he sticks to the things he is
conversant with'

"Shakespeare, Newton, Beethoven, or Patterns of
Creativity", Nora & Edward Ryerson Lecture, U.Chicago,
April 1975, collected in "Truth and Beauty" 1990.
Post by J. J. Lodder
Feynman hit the nail on the head when he claimed
that you need big blocks of undisturbed time
to get going anywhere with a hard problem.
He developed his doctrine of 'active irresponsibility'
to get some.
[I thought it was more of a device to escape the damnation of hell for
the bomb]
Post by J. J. Lodder
Feynman could afford to, few others can.
Mark Brader
2018-08-11 00:34:26 UTC
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Post by Madhu
G.H.Hardy in "A Mathematician's apology"
No mathematician should ever allow himself to forget
that mathematics is a young man's game... Galois died at
twenty-one, Abel at twenty-seven, Ramanujan at
thirty-three, Riemann at forty. There have been men who
have done work a good deal later ... [but] I do not know
of an instance of a major mathematical advance initiated
by a man past fifty ... A mathematician may still be
competent enough at sixty, but it is useless to expect
him to have original ideas,
Arthur C. Clarke in the essay "Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of
Imagination", found in the collection "Profiles of the Future":

# When a distinguished but elderly scientist
# states that something is possible, he is almost
# certainly right. When he states that something
# is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

Clarke immodestly named this "Clarke's Law", but in a later edition it
became Clarke's First Law. Note that the adverbs in the two sentences
are different. Clarke continues:

# Perhaps the adjective "elderly" requires definition. In physics,
# mathematics, and astronautics it means over thirty; in the other
# disciplines, senile decay is sometimes postponed to the forties.
# There are, of course, glorious exceptions; but as every researcher
# just out of college knows, scientists of over fifty are good for
# nothing but board meetings, and should at all costs be kept out
# of the laboratory!

Isaac Asimov added a further comment with Asimov's Corollary to Clarke's
Law, which he expounded in an essay logically titled "Asimov's Corollary".
Asimov's Corollary reads:

| When, however, the lay public rallies round an
| idea that is denounced by distinguished but elderly
| scientists and supports that idea with great fervor
| and emotion -- the distinguished but elderly
| scientists are then, after all, probably right.
--
Mark Brader "God help us if [the Nazis]'d won;
Toronto I cannot imagine their sitcoms."
***@vex.net --James Lileks

My text in this article is in the public domain.
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-11 07:53:04 UTC
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Post by Mark Brader
Post by Madhu
G.H.Hardy in "A Mathematician's apology"
No mathematician should ever allow himself to forget
that mathematics is a young man's game... Galois died at
twenty-one, Abel at twenty-seven, Ramanujan at
thirty-three, Riemann at forty. There have been men who
have done work a good deal later ... [but] I do not know
of an instance of a major mathematical advance initiated
by a man past fifty ... A mathematician may still be
competent enough at sixty, but it is useless to expect
him to have original ideas,
Arthur C. Clarke in the essay "Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of
# When a
# states that something is possible, he is almost
# certainly right. When he states that something
# is impossible, he is very probably wrong.
Hail our resident genius, the great AB.
He is right, by Clarke's Law,
for all those who defend the laws of thermodynamics
are nothing but 'distinguished but elderly scientists'

To put it more bluntly: Clarke is an idiot,

Jan
Arindam Banerjee
2018-08-12 06:04:32 UTC
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Post by Mark Brader
Post by Madhu
G.H.Hardy in "A Mathematician's apology"
No mathematician should ever allow himself to forget
that mathematics is a young man's game... Galois died at
twenty-one, Abel at twenty-seven, Ramanujan at
thirty-three, Riemann at forty. There have been men who
have done work a good deal later ... [but] I do not know
of an instance of a major mathematical advance initiated
by a man past fifty ... A mathematician may still be
competent enough at sixty, but it is useless to expect
him to have original ideas,
Arthur C. Clarke in the essay "Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of
# When a distinguished but elderly scientist
# states that something is possible, he is almost
# certainly right. When he states that something
# is impossible, he is very probably wrong.
Clarke immodestly named this "Clarke's Law", but in a later edition it
became Clarke's First Law. Note that the adverbs in the two sentences
# Perhaps the adjective "elderly" requires definition. In physics,
# mathematics, and astronautics it means over thirty; in the other
# disciplines, senile decay is sometimes postponed to the forties.
# There are, of course, glorious exceptions; but as every researcher
# just out of college knows, scientists of over fifty are good for
# nothing but board meetings, and should at all costs be kept out
# of the laboratory!
Isaac Asimov added a further comment with Asimov's Corollary to Clarke's
Law, which he expounded in an essay logically titled "Asimov's Corollary".
| When, however, the lay public rallies round an
| idea that is denounced by distinguished but elderly
| scientists and supports that idea with great fervor
| and emotion -- the distinguished but elderly
| scientists are then, after all, probably right.
Yes, for I don't get support from the lay public as they are totally fooled like so many foolish kings with the invisible thread of e=mcc=hv.
Post by Mark Brader
--
Mark Brader "God help us if [the Nazis]'d won;
Toronto I cannot imagine their sitcoms."
My text in this article is in the public domain.
Anders D. Nygaard
2018-08-10 15:17:54 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult
years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend to do
their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do brilliant work
in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that I'd
be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
Gauss and Euler spring to mind. Erdös, perhaps.

/Anders, Denmark.
David Kleinecke
2018-08-10 16:54:38 UTC
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Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Peter Moylan
Post by Anders D. Nygaard
Post by Cheryl
I remember how surprised I was to learn that Newton not only had
unorthodox religious ideas, he was also extremely interested in alchemy.
Yes, indeed. What we know and admire him for today (chiefly "Opticks"
and "Principia") occupied less than ten of his sixty-plus adult
years; most of the rest he spent on bible studies and alchemy.
It's known that people working in heavily mathematical areas tend to do
their best work when quite young. Some few continue to do brilliant work
in later years, but not many.
Can you give some examples? (I'm not saying you're wrong, just that I'd
be interested in knowing who you have in mind.)
Gauss and Euler spring to mind. Erdös, perhaps.
/Anders, Denmark.
It seems to me that there really is a youth effect but it
is indirect and not inevitable. A person of twenty usually
has few responsibilities and can focus sharply. As one
grows older one acquires baggage - responsibilities and
memories - that interferes with focus. Minimizing the
baggage will perhaps stimulate late-bloomers.
Ross
2018-08-09 10:43:22 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and those
years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books.  It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by
the church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between
the church(es) and education was very close.
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.
*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting this
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
And Mendel was a monk, and so squarely in the religious professional who
studied on the side, enough to become a professional in something else
category. The precedent for that actually goes way back; I think St.
Paul was a tentmaker.
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
--
Cheryl
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
enjoy it in the same spirit:

..................

Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires, tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.

Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland, Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography, and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.

...............

It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Cheryl
2018-08-09 11:24:00 UTC
Reply
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Post by Ross
Post by Cheryl
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and those
years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books.  It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by
the church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between
the church(es) and education was very close.
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.
*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting this
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
And Mendel was a monk, and so squarely in the religious professional who
studied on the side, enough to become a professional in something else
category. The precedent for that actually goes way back; I think St.
Paul was a tentmaker.
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
--
Cheryl
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires, tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland, Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography, and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
That is priceless.

It's the sort of thing that made me feel a bit inadequate when my
correspondence is often limited to things like "I'm fine, hope you are
too" or equivalent, and as for my personal studies of ancient languages
and walking tours of Turkmenestan, the less said the better.
--
Cheryl
LFS
2018-08-09 11:36:35 UTC
Reply
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Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires, tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland, Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography, and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
--
Laura (emulate St George for email)
Cheryl
2018-08-09 11:59:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal
thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household, setting up and
operating charitable organizations, educated their boys until they went
to school and their girls until they hired a governess, learning and
carrying out all kinds of needlework and crafts, writing novels,
handling the incredibly byzantine Victorian social calendar, and
traveling the world (wearing, of course, a good thick skirt while
collecting butterflies or studying local customs). Who was it who was
advised by her doctor to travel for her health, and went to Morocco or
somewhere in that area and married a local? I think she eventually
decided to visit the Rockies, too. Isabelle Something from Scotland, I
think. No, a quick google reveals that I was confusing Isabelle Bird
with someone else. Isabelle was not Scottish, did not go to the Middle
East, and didn't marry the "desperado" she fell for while visiting the
Canadian Rockies.

I've always loved the idea of someone in frail health, advised to go on
a sea voyage, starting with something relatively tame (the US), and then
travelling to Canada, Hawaii (not then part of the US), Australia,
Japan, China, Korea, Vietnam, Singapore, and Malaya, then later the
Indian sub-continent and nearby areas, back to China, and finally, Morocco.

It was Margaret Fountaine who had what was called a close personal
relationship with a man she met on her travels and originally hired as a
guide.
--
Cheryl
Janet
2018-08-09 15:35:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
supported by a huge staff of men and women.

You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.

Janet.

setting up and
Post by Cheryl
operating charitable organizations, educated their boys until they went
to school and their girls until they hired a governess, learning and
carrying out all kinds of needlework and crafts, writing novels,
handling the incredibly byzantine Victorian social calendar, and
traveling the world (wearing, of course, a good thick skirt while
collecting butterflies or studying local customs). Who was it who was
advised by her doctor to travel for her health, and went to Morocco or
somewhere in that area and married a local? I think she eventually
decided to visit the Rockies, too. Isabelle Something from Scotland, I
think. No, a quick google reveals that I was confusing Isabelle Bird
with someone else. Isabelle was not Scottish, did not go to the Middle
East, and didn't marry the "desperado" she fell for while visiting the
Canadian Rockies.
I've always loved the idea of someone in frail health, advised to go on
a sea voyage, starting with something relatively tame (the US), and then
travelling to Canada, Hawaii (not then part of the US), Australia,
Japan, China, Korea, Vietnam, Singapore, and Malaya, then later the
Indian sub-continent and nearby areas, back to China, and finally, Morocco.
It was Margaret Fountaine who had what was called a close personal
Cheryl
2018-08-09 15:40:59 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
supported by a huge staff of men and women.
You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.
Of course the whole system depended on people to do what we have
machines to do now. But management is time-consuming work too, although
naturally neither as time-consuming as being a housemaid. So the
employer's other activities come on top of managing the household.
--
Cheryl
Janet
2018-08-09 17:58:50 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
supported by a huge staff of men and women.
You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.
Of course the whole system depended on people to do what we have
machines to do now. But management is time-consuming work too, although
naturally neither as time-consuming as being a housemaid. So the
employer's other activities come on top of managing the household.
Managing the household was not very time consuming for ladies who had
a hierarchy of full time indoor and outdoor staff to run every aspect of
it ( housekeeper, butler, major domo/ steward, fully staffed nursery).

Janet.
charles
2018-08-09 18:41:55 UTC
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Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may enjoy it
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the
facts. They tramped miles over brake and through briar before
breakfast or high tea. At either or both of which collations they
would consume flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of
Scotch beef, a garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in
silvery shoals, and half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea.
They sired more offspring than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed
Homer and Catullus, Plato and Vergil, Holy Scripture and
Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their stentorian nostrils. When
they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan with a walking stick
and one change of flea powder or to the spas of Europe with a
pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires, tooled-leather
vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday sermons that
they orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A
second service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies,
and assorted benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which
there would be Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a
reading out loud of two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or
Tennyson, a charade featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent
of a staircase at Khartoum in the grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and
reformers would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts
at a rate and with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe.
Victorian memories ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the
flora of Lapland, Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary
reports, local topography, and the names of third cousins with
tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers wrote, without
typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six
volumes, lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden
Bough, eighteen of Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had
composed his daily stint of several thousand deftly placed words
before the professional working day had even begun. Dickens could
produce a quire at a time with the printer's devil puffing at the
door. But this was only the half of it; for after the public
leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims,
and exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled
notebooks folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length
and deliberation of which we have no present imagining. Letters in
the literal thousands and ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the
Zambezi, to the Very Reverand Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny
points raised in his nine addresses on infant perdition, letters
of credit and discredit, epistles to every member of the family,
to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very often with
a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox). With
scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught
in the Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English
Dictionary_ (2001). It leads straight on to Murray's letter of
application for a job at the British Museum Library, but I'll
leave you to enjoy that if you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
supported by a huge staff of men and women.
You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.
Of course the whole system depended on people to do what we have
machines to do now. But management is time-consuming work too, although
naturally neither as time-consuming as being a housemaid. So the
employer's other activities come on top of managing the household.
Managing the household was not very time consuming for ladies who had
a hierarchy of full time indoor and outdoor staff to run every aspect of
it ( housekeeper, butler, major domo/ steward, fully staffed nursery).
but, she would have had to chose the dinner menu ;-)
--
from KT24 in Surrey, England
"I'd rather die of exhaustion than die of boredom" Thomas Carlyle
Cheryl
2018-08-09 19:20:57 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
supported by a huge staff of men and women.
You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.
Of course the whole system depended on people to do what we have
machines to do now. But management is time-consuming work too, although
naturally neither as time-consuming as being a housemaid. So the
employer's other activities come on top of managing the household.
Managing the household was not very time consuming for ladies who had
a hierarchy of full time indoor and outdoor staff to run every aspect of
it ( housekeeper, butler, major domo/ steward, fully staffed nursery).
Nevertheless it is a job that can be done well or badly and be more or
less time-consuming, depending on the woman's personal situation. It is
not something that magically happens. And I think women who did that and
also a great many other things as well deserve credit for going well
beyond their basic duties and doing far more than what was expected of them.

It's not as though there's a limited amount of admiration around, so
that if I acknowledge their work and admire their abilities I can't also
acknowledge that others also worked, often much longer hours and in
areas that are more physically demanding.
--
Cheryl
LFS
2018-08-09 21:38:42 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by Cheryl
Post by Cheryl
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
Which the women did in between running the household,
    supported by a  huge staff of men and women.
    You only have to read their domestic records to understand how
completely dependent the privileged classes were on staff and servants.
Of course the whole system depended on people to do what we have
machines to do now. But management is time-consuming work too, although
naturally neither as time-consuming as being a housemaid. So the
employer's other activities come on top of managing the household.
   Managing the household was not very time consuming for ladies who had
a hierarchy of full time indoor and outdoor staff to run every aspect of
it ( housekeeper, butler, major domo/ steward, fully staffed nursery).
Nevertheless it is a job that can be done well or badly and be more or
less time-consuming, depending on the woman's personal situation.It is
not something that magically happens. And I think women who did that and
also a great many other things as well deserve credit for going well
beyond their basic duties and doing far more than what was expected of them.
But another factor was the strength of the class system. It's a good
deal easier to manage those who know their place and are economically
dependent on their employers.
Post by Cheryl
It's not as though there's a limited amount of admiration around, so
that if I acknowledge their work and admire their abilities I can't also
acknowledge that others also worked, often much longer hours and in
areas that are more physically demanding.
--
Laura (emulate St George for email)
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-09 13:45:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by LFS
Post by Ross
I realize it is not entirely on-topic, but I love this passage
from George Steiner, and I think the present audience may
..................
Did Victorian pundits need less sleep than we do? Consider the facts.
They tramped miles over brake and through briar before breakfast or
high tea. At either or both of which collations they would consume
flitches of bacon, grilled kidneys, silver-sides of Scotch beef, a
garland of mutton chops, kippers and bloaters in silvery shoals, and
half a dozen cavernous cups of Indian tea. They sired more offspring
than Jacob the Patriarch. They breathed Homer and Catullus, Plato and
Vergil, Holy Scripture and Bradshaw's Railway Guide through their
stentorian nostrils. When they voyaged, it was either through Turkestan
with a walking stick and one change of flea powder or to the spas of
Europe with a pride of steamer trunks, portable escritoires,
tooled-leather vanity cases, and mountainous hampers. The Sunday
sermons that they
orated or listened to ran anywhere up to two mortal hours. A second
service, with an average of eleven hymns, four homilies, and assorted
benedictions, followed in the afternoon. After which there would be
Medelssohn's "Songs Without Words" at the piano, a reading out loud of
two or three of the shorter epics by Clough or Tennyson, a charade
featuring General Gordon's celebrated descent of a staircase at
Khartoum in the
grinning face of death.
Between which accomplishments out sages, scholars, boffins, and reformers
would learn languages, sciences, literatures, and crafts at a rate and
with a mastery to make lesser generations cringe. Victorian memories
ingested epics, Biblical family trees, the flora of Lapland,
Macedonian irregular verbs, Parliamentary reports, local topography,
and the names
of third cousins with tireless voracity. Victorian wrists and fingers
wrote, without typewriters, without Dictaphones, to the tune of
thousands of
printable words per diem. Histories of religious opinion in six volumes,
lives of Disraeli ditto, twelve tomes of The Golden Bough, eighteen of
Darwin, thirty-five of Ruskin. Trollope had composed his daily stint of
several thousand deftly placed words before the professional working day
had even begun. Dickens could produce a quire at a time with the printer's
devil puffing at the door. But this was only the half of it; for after
the public leviathans came the private immensities -- diaries that run to
thousands of minutely crowded pages, personal reflections, maxims, and
exercises in pious meditation straining the hinges of marbled notebooks
folio size, and, above all, letters. Letters of a length and deliberation
of which we have no present imagining. Letters in the literal
thousands and
ten thousands: to Cousin Hallam on the Zambezi, to the Very Reverand
Noel Tolpuddle concerning the thorny points raised in his nine
addresses on
infant perdition, letters of credit and discredit, epistles to every member
of the family, to the beloved across the street. Written by hand. Very
often with a first draft and a manuscript copy (no carbon, no Xerox).
With scratchy pens. In the yellowish, straining aura of gaslight. In
rooms getting chillier by the hour.
...............
It's the opening of his review of K.M.Elizabeth Murray's _Caught in the
Web of Words: James Murray and the Oxford English Dictionary_ (2001).
It leads straight on to Murray's letter of application for a job
at the British Museum Library, but I'll leave you to enjoy that if
you haven't already.
Excellent! But of course these men had women supporting all their
activities..
And some men, helping them get dressed, serving dinner, etc.
--
Jerry Friedman
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-09 11:46:37 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
According to that "official guidebook to the University," Catholics and
Jews couldn't be admitted to Oxford until the middle of the 19th century
or so. (No, I don't have time to look it up.)
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-09 13:00:51 UTC
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Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
According to that "official guidebook to the University," Catholics and
Jews couldn't be admitted to Oxford until the middle of the 19th century
or so. (No, I don't have time to look it up.)
Catholics in 1830 (provided that they did not number more than 'a dozen
or so'). 1856 for Jews though admission had always been open to those
prepared to undergo a Christian baptism. There were, understandably, few
takers for apostate admissions!
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-09 13:19:33 UTC
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Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
According to that "official guidebook to the University," Catholics and
Jews couldn't be admitted to Oxford until the middle of the 19th century
or so. (No, I don't have time to look it up.)
On the other hand a converted Jew could become Prime Minister and be
elevated to an earldom.
--
athel
Janet
2018-08-09 15:19:49 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman?
If that was ever a requirement, I've never heard it.

Janet

I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
Post by Cheryl
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
--
Cheryl
Cheryl
2018-08-09 15:37:55 UTC
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Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman?
If that was ever a requirement, I've never heard it.
Well, according to their own website, Cambridge starting having a lot of
lay students in the 16th century, so before that students must have
normally been clerks aiming to become clergy.

https://www.cam.ac.uk/about-the-university/history/sixteenth-century

But I was thinking about the faculty - and as Peter pointed out, in
1667, people wanting to be fellows normally had to take orders, although
Newton got around the requirement.

Oxford must have been similar. This says that most college fellowships
required fellows to enter holy orders within a certain period of time.

Celibate, too, which apparently applied even to those who held
fellowship that did not require the taking of holy orders.

https://tinyurl.com/y9dhvjvj
--
Cheryl
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-09 16:09:01 UTC
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Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman?
If that was ever a requirement, I've never heard it.
Why did Charles Lutwidge Dodgson take Holy Orders? None of his biographies
mention his undertaking any clerical duties.
Post by Janet
I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but I
Post by Cheryl
think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education became
more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-09 21:45:25 UTC
Reply
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Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman?
If that was ever a requirement, I've never heard it.
Why did Charles Lutwidge Dodgson take Holy Orders? None of his biographies
mention his undertaking any clerical duties.
He was required by his college to be ordained within four years of obtaining
a masters degree to continue his residency. However having accepted the
diaconate in 1861 he did not proceed to priesting as normally expected and,
with the support of Dean Liddel, the residency he maintained to the end of
his life was flagrantly in breach of the college's rules.

However, these rules were imposed by Christ Church College, then, as now,
the site of the Cathedral Church of Oxford, not by the University, in view of
its special status in the Church of England. The days were long past when
every college demanded such commitments.
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-10 12:30:51 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really considered
to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could you
be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman?
If that was ever a requirement, I've never heard it.
Why did Charles Lutwidge Dodgson take Holy Orders? None of his biographies
mention his undertaking any clerical duties.
He was required by his college to be ordained within four years of obtaining
a masters degree to continue his residency. However having accepted the
diaconate in 1861 he did not proceed to priesting as normally expected and,
with the support of Dean Liddel, the residency he maintained to the end of
his life was flagrantly in breach of the college's rules.
Thus it _was_ "ever a requirement."
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
However, these rules were imposed by Christ Church College, then, as now,
the site of the Cathedral Church of Oxford, not by the University, in view of
its special status in the Church of England. The days were long past when
every college demanded such commitments.
Thus it _had been_ "ever a requirement."
Madhu
2018-08-09 15:51:52 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
And Mendel was a monk, and so squarely in the religious professional
who studied on the side, enough to become a professional in something
else category. The precedent for that actually goes way back; I think
St. Paul was a tentmaker.
I've seen speculation that "tentmaker" might as well have been
"hatmaker" - that Paul made yarmulkes. But the trade or vocation
carried on by rabbinic scholars appears to have been secondary - there
would have been synagogue support for the scholars even from the
intertestemantal period. (There are stories both of working men who
studied in the synagogues and stories of students who became too
successful in business and eventually quit their studies)
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really
considered to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
By the time the detective novel emerged it may have been. In any case
if you look for the purpose of academia in its role in shaping society
(rather than the subject matter), there aren't any big surprises across
the time periods.
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could
you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but
I think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education
became more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
"Enligtenment" brought about that U-turn. Eg. Harvard divinity school
as it was founded vs. the secular liberal atheist opinion making machine
that it has become.
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-09 16:19:01 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Madhu
Post by Cheryl
And Mendel was a monk, and so squarely in the religious professional
who studied on the side, enough to become a professional in something
else category. The precedent for that actually goes way back; I think
St. Paul was a tentmaker.
I've seen speculation that "tentmaker" might as well have been
"hatmaker" - that Paul made yarmulkes.
Anachronism!

Head coverings are unlikely to have included Egyptian-style skullcaps.
Most likely they were simply shawls, like today's prayer shawls, or
bound with cords in the contemporary Arab style.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kippah#Head_coverings_in_ancient_Israelite_culture
Post by Madhu
But the trade or vocation
carried on by rabbinic scholars appears to have been secondary - there
would have been synagogue support for the scholars even from the
intertestemantal period. (There are stories both of working men who
studied in the synagogues and stories of students who became too
successful in business and eventually quit their studies)
Post by Cheryl
Anyway, I wasn't thinking that none of them were educated in a more or
less secular establishment, but that, especially for earlier examples,
there often WAS no education other than that offered by religious
establishments. In fact, for the scientists, if not for the amateur
detectives and the writers, what became science wasn't really
considered to be properly part of an academic curriculum.
By the time the detective novel emerged it may have been. In any case
if you look for the purpose of academia in its role in shaping society
(rather than the subject matter), there aren't any big surprises across
the time periods.
Post by Cheryl
Even the Victorian examples mentioned earlier - at what point could
you be a scholar at Cambridge or Oxford and not, at least nominally, a
clergyman? I don't know - I'd guess earlier than Victorian times - but
I think the idea that an educated person was also educated in and
practiced religion lingered on a bit even after higher education
became more secular. Aided, of course, by anti-Catholic laws.
"Enligtenment" brought about that U-turn. Eg. Harvard divinity school
as it was founded vs. the secular liberal atheist opinion making machine
that it has become.
When William Rainey Harper set up the University of Chicago (1892), it
incorporated (to the Founder John D. Rockefeller's pleasure) an existing
Baptist Seminary, and Harper saw to it that the teaching of the biblical
languages (primarily Hebrew and Greek) would NOT be done in the Divinity
School, where the conservative clergy would have control, but in the
Division of the Humanities, where he would be in charge. He himself taught
Introductory Hebrew -- at 8 am five days a week -- and was quite hurt
when, after a few years, the class was no longer mandatory and enrollment
plummeted.
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-09 11:44:13 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.
*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting this
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
Primarily because Athel kept going on about Dom/dome for at least as long.
Athel Cornish-Bowden
2018-08-09 13:20:16 UTC
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Post by Peter T. Daniels
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
I don't know about the others, but Mendel had a thorough scientific
education at the universities of Olomouc (founded as a Jesuit
establishment, but pretty much secular by the time Mendel was there),
and Vienna. He was taught by Doppler*, amongst others.
*PTD will remember, long after everyone else has forgotten, that I once
made the mistake of spelling him as Döppler. Despite my correcting t
his
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
immediately after I was set straight, PTD was still going on about it a
year or two later.
Primarily because Athel kept going on about Dom/dome for at least as long.
A very selective memory there.
--
athel
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-09 08:24:52 UTC
Reply
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Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.
Indeed.
That young Mr Darwin should have finished his studies,
and taken up some vicarage somewhere,
instead of foolishly going off on a voyage round the world,

Jan
Cheryl
2018-08-09 08:58:21 UTC
Reply
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Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.
Indeed.
That young Mr Darwin should have finished his studies,
and taken up some vicarage somewhere,
instead of foolishly going off on a voyage round the world,
His parents may have thought so! I'm not familiar with the voluminous
literature written about Darwin and his family, but many parents would
advocate for the safe, solid job over some wild idea of travelling
around the world!
--
Cheryl
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-09 11:03:50 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.
Indeed.
That young Mr Darwin should have finished his studies,
and taken up some vicarage somewhere,
instead of foolishly going off on a voyage round the world,
His parents may have thought so! I'm not familiar with the voluminous
literature written about Darwin and his family, but many parents would
advocate for the safe, solid job over some wild idea of travelling
around the world!
Darwin lived on his father's allowance, while being a student.
Darwin's father was rich, so Charles became rich too, eventually. [1]
There never was any need for Charles to do some real work.
He did not pay for his world tour either,
for he went as 'guest of the Admiralty',

Jan

[1] It is little known the Charles Darwin was also a shrewd investor.
Between doing science he became much richer too.
Janet
2018-08-09 16:37:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cheryl
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.
Indeed.
That young Mr Darwin should have finished his studies,
and taken up some vicarage somewhere,
instead of foolishly going off on a voyage round the world,
His parents may have thought so!
Darwin's father funded his first voyage. (Probably getting desperate;
he had already tried and failed to direct Charles into careers in
medicine and the church).

I'm not familiar with the voluminous
Post by Cheryl
literature written about Darwin and his family, but many parents would
advocate for the safe, solid job over some wild idea of travelling
around the world!
Britain was a powerful maritime trading nation, busy exploring,
charting mapping and colonising the world.It was not unusual for young
men of some education and means to pay to join a scientific expedition
or voyage (as Darwin did, on Beagle). The opportunity to study or
collect the geology, flora and fauna and native cultures of other
continents could lead to fame and fortune on their return.

Janet.
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-09 21:27:21 UTC
Reply
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Post by Janet
Post by Cheryl
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Cheryl
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready with their
own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their
religious duties, including whether or not they had any crises of
faith relating to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes
sense that, having come to the religious life late in his own
life, any religious doubts would have been taken care of before
the books started. And he wasn't a parish priest or abbott, so
his religious duties would have been mainly worship at services
and carrying out duties such as gardening and preparing
medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father
Brown, of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the
mouthpiece of Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those;
don't remember any agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was
she the ex-helicopter pilot working in a New England parish? Not
a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about
religious belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would
hardly have time to investigate murders, what with services
(regular and funerals etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of
those), visits to homes, hospitals and nursing homes, as required
(many of these have chaplains, but naturally regular church-goers
like visits from their own clergy), visits to whatever
institution is a particular favourite charity for the church
(jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off
the street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in
arms about something or other to do with the church, and so on
and so forth. I say "church" but maybe other religious
establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days,
I looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon
Tallis, a character in some of her children's books. It says a
bishop remarks about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's
forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives
with plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were
also eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars. There
were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
Most of them probably grew up in an education system that was run by the
church (unless they were privately educated) and the link between the
church(es) and education was very close.
I always assumed that the Victorian English vicars who always seemed to
find time to purse their own interests - usually scientific rather than
detective, perhaps - were the younger sons who needed a respectable
occupation and had either a younger son's inheritance, a nice, what was
the term, a benefice that was in the gift of a relative and came with an
income or both. They may not have devoted much time to parish work, and
certainly wouldn't have had the 4 or 5 parishes some rural clergy have
today.
Indeed.
That young Mr Darwin should have finished his studies,
and taken up some vicarage somewhere,
instead of foolishly going off on a voyage round the world,
His parents may have thought so!
Darwin's father funded his first voyage. (Probably getting desperate;
he had already tried and failed to direct Charles into careers in
medicine and the church).
Not quite.
Darwin paid for 'his fair share' of the food at the captain's table,
and that was it.
The Admiralty paid for standard rations for all aboard.
Captains could have better food, at their own cost.
Since Darwin was invited aboard he did not pay for the voyage.
Post by Janet
I'm not familiar with the voluminous
Post by Cheryl
literature written about Darwin and his family, but many parents would
advocate for the safe, solid job over some wild idea of travelling
around the world!
Britain was a powerful maritime trading nation, busy exploring,
charting mapping and colonising the world.It was not unusual for young
men of some education and means to pay to join a scientific expedition
or voyage (as Darwin did, on Beagle). The opportunity to study or
collect the geology, flora and fauna and native cultures of other
continents could lead to fame and fortune on their return.
Fame and fortune was not what it was about, for Darwin,

Jan
J. J. Lodder
2018-08-09 08:24:52 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Peter Duncanson [BrE]
On Tue, 7 Aug 2018 09:32:46 -0600, Jerry Friedman
Post by Jerry Friedman
[Why all those clerical detectives?]
Post by Cheryl
Post by Jerry Friedman
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't a
parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been mainly
worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening and
preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father Brown,
of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the mouthpiece of
Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't remember any
agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the ex-helicopter pilot
working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting Thomas, either.
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
/The Name of the Rose/?
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would hardly have
time to investigate murders, what with services (regular and funerals
etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of those), visits to homes,
hospitals and nursing homes, as required (many of these have chaplains,
but naturally regular church-goers like visits from their own clergy),
visits to whatever institution is a particular favourite charity for the
church (jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off the
street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in arms about
something or other to do with the church, and so on and so forth. I say
"church" but maybe other religious establishments are similar.
Having enjoyed /A Wrinkle in Time/ a great deal in my younger days, I
looked at the page at the site Madrigal linked to on Canon Tallis, a
character in some of her children's books. It says a bishop remarks
about the Canon, "He's so busy being a sleuth he's forgotten he's a priest."
In general, though, I wonder whether those clerical detectives with
plenty of time were inspired by the Victorian vicars who were also
eminent etymologists, entomologists, and such.
I had a similar "wondering" about botanists who were vicars.
There were also Catholic clergy who were scientists including: Nicolaus
Copernicus, Gregor Mendel, Georges Lemaître, Roger Bacon,...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Catholic_clergy_scientists
Of course clergy who were scientists could always justify their
scientific activities as an extension of religion - the study of the
Creator's handiwork.
That doctrine was actually Galileo's invention.
In the end the RCC adopted his pont of view.
By the 'one truth' doctrine the word of the lord
and the works of the lord cannot be in contradiction,

Jan
Madrigal Gurneyhalt
2018-08-07 15:40:57 UTC
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Post by Cheryl
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
...
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Post by J. J. Lodder
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
Who cares?
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Hundreds?  Have you seen or done a survey? And one for aristocrats?
http://detecs.org/contents.html
Not one that comprehensive for aristocrats so far.
Thanks.  There are some extra people there--Adele Rothstein, the rabbi's
mother? Montague Egg?--but it's certainly over 200.
(For people who are wondering, Egg is in the "Other" section.  There are
much longer lists of "Reverends", "Fathers", etc.)
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
However, now that you mention it, the large number of clerical
detectives is /really/ weird.  What's the attraction?
For the author the advantage is that they have access to people's
lives at a deep level that doesn't need contortions to be convincing.
They can be present at death beds, confessions, and crises without
the writer needing pages of justification or coincidences to put
them there.
That's an interesting point.  Maybe the reason I didn't think of it is
that in the Father Brown stories and the one Rabbi Small novel I've
read, that didn't happen all that much, as I recall.
Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
And in modern examples, of course, they come ready
with their own doubts, conflicts, crises of faith to add to the pot.
And in pre-modern examples, it was warm and cozy that they didn't?
They seem to have spent remarkably little time on their religious
duties, including whether or not they had any crises of faith relating
to them. I suppose with Brother cadfael, it makes sense that, having
come to the religious life late in his own life, any religious doubts
would have been taken care of before the books started. And he wasn't a
parish priest or abbott, so his religious duties would have been mainly
worship at services and carrying out duties such as gardening and
preparing medecines. I only read a few books about Sister Fidelma, and
those years ago - I don't remember any religious doubts. Father Brown,
of course, had to be staunchly undoubting since he was the mouthpiece of
Chesterton. Rabbi Small - I read a lot of those; don't remember any
agonizing over faith. Merrily Watkins - was she the ex-helicopter pilot
working in a New England parish? Not a Doubting Thomas, either.
No. She is the priest of a small Herefordshire parish and the diocesan
deliverance consultant (exorcist!) She is the girlfriend of a non-believing
musician and the mother to a pagan curious daughter. Every moment of
her existence is consumed with doubts of one kind or another!
Post by Cheryl
I guess you either write a detective story, or a novel about religious
belief, and don't try to combine them.
Then you guess wrong.
Post by Cheryl
Your average modern clergyperson, as far as I can see, would hardly have
time to investigate murders, what with services (regular and funerals
etc), committee meetings (vast numbers of those), visits to homes,
hospitals and nursing homes, as required (many of these have chaplains,
but naturally regular church-goers like visits from their own clergy),
visits to whatever institution is a particular favourite charity for the
church (jails etc), office meetings with parishioners and people off the
street who want counseling, with parishioners who are up in arms about
something or other to do with the church, and so on and so forth. I say
"church" but maybe other religious establishments are similar.
Amateur detectives need to be retired (with a pension large enough to
free them from paid work) or have a large private income. Or the reader
simply has to ignore the way the detective never has such a hectic
schedule that they can't take time off to interview suspects and never
has to worry about paying the bills if a murderer takes a bit long to
identify.
Or the author cleverly weaves the contact with suspects into the
everyday work. You seem to be remarkably unfamiliar with the
more recent developments in the genre. I recommend a dose of
Merrily Watkins (by Phil Rickman), Ruth Galloway (by Elly Griffiths),
Jenny Cooper (by Matthew Hall) or Stella Darnell, the Detective's
Daughter (by Lesley Thomson) to see how it's done.
Peter T. Daniels
2018-08-07 17:24:21 UTC
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Post by Madrigal Gurneyhalt
I'm not sure that it is that many in the great scheme of things.
There are thousands of fictional detectives after all. And there
are far more clerics than aristocrats amongst them (Sidney
Chambers, Father Brown, Merrily Watkins, Father Dowling,
Rabbi Small, Sister Fidelma, and Brother Cadfael being the
most well known of hundreds).
Incidentally, after twenty-something novels, Fidelma left the sorority and is
now simply the Lady Fidelma. Why, her readers wondered, did it take so long.

For at least half a dozen novels, "Peter Tremayne" used "genuflect" to mean
'cross oneself'. It's astonishing that an editor didn't catch that in the
very first one.
That's an interesting point.  Maybe the reason I didn't think of it is
that in the Father Brown stories and the one Rabbi Small novel I've
read, that didn't happen all that much, as I recall.
I loved Rabbi Small. There were just the seven books, one for each day of the
week, and one volume of short stories. In "The Nine Mile Walk" he infers a
murder from overhearing one sentence in one side of a phone call made at a
pay phone in a restaurant.

Thank you for indulging the piggybacking.
soup
2018-08-07 12:48:04 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
I'm not sure that I care all that much, but I did wonder why so many
authors like to make their detectives aristocratic.
So they didn't have to explain the lack of a day job?
If your detective has an alternative income source then where the money
comes from doesn't have to be explained.
Jerry Friedman
2018-08-05 22:24:50 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Roderick Alleyn was the younger son of a baronet, if that counts.
Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
No idea. These days, when many members of the aristocracy have to work
for a living, it may have happened.
--
Jerry Friedman
Arindam Banerjee
2018-08-06 12:07:36 UTC
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Post by Athel Cornish-Bowden
Peter Wimsey was the son of a duke
Nicolas Le Floch was a marquis
Inspector Lynley is an earl
Miss Fisher was the daughter of a baron
Inspector Higgins has "titres de noblesse"
Are any real detectives members of the aristocracy?
--
athel
Never heard of Le Floch or Higgins. For Wimsey and Fisher it was a hobby, not a profession. Lynley was made an earl to look posh and be a contrast. None of these fall in the class of Holmes, Miss Marple, Poirot or Inspector Clouseau.
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