POSH

Posh Victorian Gentleman

WOOD GREEN, LONDON

We were recently informed that “posh,” the ubiquitous British expression for fancy, expensive, upper-class, exclusive, is derived from the acronym for Port Out, Starboard Home.  This was a wonderful revelation.  I loved the fact that it was an acronym and derived from such a Victorian circumstance.  I imagined the 12 and a half day P&O steamer voyages between South Hampton and Bombay through the Suez Canal. Of course the well-heeled passengers knew to book a cabin on the side of the vessel protected from the direct sun so as to maintain their lovely, pasty complexions.  The other side of the vessel would be left for soldiers and servants.

Unfortunately the truth (according to Webster’s) is less romantic.  The Port Out, Starboard Home, posh was popularized in a 1968 Chitty Chitty Bang Bang musical song.  The real etymology is that “posh” is gypsy slang for the half penny.  Not much dough for the posh set! 


Peter

The British Novel

LONDON
We’re reading Ian McEwan’s Atonement in my novel class right now.  It’s the perfect novel to read near the end of our course.  Not only did we visit the Imperial War Museum last week, which gave helpful context about World War II (including a fascinating exhibit on the children of the war), but also the novel plays with the whole idea of narrative construction—the fiction of fiction--quite a post-modern concept.  The students and I dug deep into the foreshadowing and symbolism of the long first scene with the breaking of Uncle Clem’s vase (significantly from World War I), the steamy seduction scene in the library, and Briony’s misperception and betrayal.  Yesterday we talked about the second part of the novel, which depicts the harrowing retreat from Dunkirk and the beginning of Hitler’s bombing of Britain during the Blitz.   History is coming alive as we read and we’re all noticing more evidence of both 20^th century wars still around us in London from bombed out churches to war memorials.  London’s cityscape of old and contemporary buildings is due in large part to the random destruction of the Blitz.

I feel so fortunate to have had this rare opportunity of teaching literature about the place and culture my students and I inhabit.  This group of students is particularly keen on reading and discussion.  For once I actually look forward to and enjoy reading their essays.  In a short term we’ve only had time to read four novels but what gems they are: Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility with its secret engagements and lessons of honor and deportment; Charles Dickens’ dense Great Expectations, another examination of class and the value of honesty—Pip and the other characters almost leap out of the page onto our city streets; and a digression into genre fiction with Agatha Christie’s thrilling And Then There Were None.  We also had the chance to go see her mystery play, “The Mousetrap,” which has been running for just about 60 years straight in the West End.

Beth

Amstel River Reflections

AMSTERDAM
Rembrandt frequented the Amstel River outside of Amsterdam.  Wrapped in his black cape, he would sit on a stool drawings the river scene: sail-powered barges, wind-swept reeds along the dikes and stately wind mills.

Windblown bikers

On Saturday morning we rent bikes at the main train station in Amsterdam.  These are sturdy, one-speed black Dutch bicycles with racks on the back and coaster brakes.  Looking for a feel for the Dutch countryside we ride toward the Amstel River.  The river feeds the canals that fan out through the city.  We pass each successive canal as we ride south.  We cross the river and cruise among a small bouquet of modern skyscrapers then pass under a highway bridge, cars speeding toward and away from the congested streets of Amsterdam.  Our bike path now slides right up to the 20 meter wide river.  Moored along its bank are house boats.  This one is a converted commercial grain barge.  That one is new and modern with sleek glass windows, stainless steel furniture on the decks and beautiful wooden panel siding.

Modern houseboat

The houseboats grow less frequent.  We are on the dike that forms the river channel.  Below us to the left are bright green fields in a patchwork defined by narrow water channels.  At regular intervals farmhouses look down on us – solid stone buildings, barns, tractors.   A single skull glides by, the woman pulling in a steady pattern on her oars.  Now a man on bicycle rides towards us.  He holds an electric megaphone and calls instructions to an 8-man skull in the river.

Amstel Windmill at work

The gray sky threatens rain.  The wind  pushes strongly against us as we make our way up river.  A runner stops to consult with us as we look at our map.  We push on.  I stop again and take photos of a fully thatched wind mill.  It is turning slowing.  Several miles away in the distance is a modern wind mill -- three 50m long arms turning against the dark sky.

Wind-behind-us ride back into Amsterdam

We cross the river and begin the 12 kilometers back towards the city.  It’s past 2:00pm and we are all focused on the pub we saw on this side of the river.  We arrive.  It is cozy.  We have chicken curry soup, a Dutch Hamburger, a salad.  Back on our bikes we come to another windmill and stop.  At its base is a large bronze statue of Rembrandt kneeling and looking out across the Amstel River.

Amsterdam canals at sunset

With the wind behind us we speed back toward town.  The highway passes overhead.  The houseboats grow more frequent.  Soon we are passing over the canals and the houseboats are moored two and three deep with gang planks reaching across the near boats to the far ones.  We reach the dense downtown streets: trolleys, pedestrian-tourists, cars, bicycles all competing for space in the narrow streets.  A bike path and green light allow us our final left and right turn up to the Train Station.  We return our bikes, collect our luggage and board a train for the airport.

Peter

(Poor) King George III

LONDON
Isn’t it typical. The mad, tyrannical, possibly dim-witted King George III is turning into a sympathetic character in the hands of our British hosts.  The first seed of doubt in our US-History-book version of George was sewn the third day we were in London.  Our British lecturer explained to us the “constitutional monarchy” of England.  After Charles I had his head lopped off for repeatedly disbanding parliament, and Cromwell tried his hand at kingless government, the Stuarts were returned to the monarchy.  However, the ruler no longer had power of the former Kings (consider Henry VIII). For Queen Elizabeth II this means that she signs the laws and appoints “her” prime minister, but these acts are purely ceremonial.  For KGIII did this mean it was Parliament, not he, who was calling the foreign-policy-shots with the rebellious colonies?

We next ran into KGIII in Weymouth where he came for many years to enjoy the fresh air and to swim in the sea (in a suitably modest swimming hut rolled out into the waves).  The reports of the grand reception he received, his long, leisurely strolls on the esplanade where he greeted locals congenially greeting the locals, and his small-boat fishing expeditions demonstrated his human touch and popularity with his British subjects.

KGIII in Weymouth - favorite monarch

We began to question our tour guides for their “take” on KGIII.  We learned that to this day he is celebrated as a great collector.  When we visited the British Library we found that literally the “core” of the collection (a glass tower of ancient books at the center of the library) is the collection of KGIII.  At Windsor and in the National Gallery are collections of art he “gave” to the people.

We watched the movie “The Madness of King George” and of course it made us sympathize with the illness that attacked him several times during his reign eventually leaving him mad and alone locked up at Windsor as his mistrusted, playboy-son George IV became Regent in his stead.

So it was with this shifting picture of KGIII that Abby and I went to the London School of Economics Library today to answer the question: Was it King George’s fault that Britain “lost” her 13 colonies in the 1770’s.  We were thrilled to find volumes of George’s letters.  “Real research!” as Abby exclaimed, “Not someone else’s version.”  Here’s a summary of our research.  For the full version you can ask Abby for the five paragraph essay on the topic she wrote for her American History course. 

-George was 20 when he took the throne in 1760.  During his first 10 years as a young, insecure monarch there were seven changes of government and with the exception of William Pitt he was surrounded by ineffective, shallow ministers.

GKIII Book collection - the core of the Br Library

- He was not gifted as a leader and did not demonstrate the moral or courage or visionary leadership which might have helped stabilize the government and set a course which avoided the stubborn, take-it-or-leave-it negotiations with the colonies.

- The Stamp Act of 1765 was the great watershed.  It was Grenville, the prime minister, who conceived and pushed it through Parliament.  The King did not influence the law.  And while he was later blamed for it by Ben Franklin (who was a colonial representative in London at the time), he was in fact suffering from a nervous breakdown at the time and did not sign the act.

– By the late 1770’s KGIII was obstinately determined not to give in on any count to the colonists.  He would not change his views despite evidence and arguments to the contrary.  By that time Lord North, a flexible man, was Prime Minister and KGIII dominated him.

So, I conclude:  During his reign, King George saw and must take responsibility for the independence of the 13 colonies.  However, as a man he had some redeeming qualities and ultimately was a tragic figure.  Finally, the British do not blame him personally for the loss of the colonies. The colonies weren’t that interesting to  Britain at the time anyway.  Good riddance!


Peter