scholarly journals Obituary notices of fellows deceased

Sir Arthur Shipley was the second son of Alexander Shipley, of the Hall, Datchet, who died in 1896. He was born at Walton-on-Thames on March 10, 1861, and died at the Master's Lodge of Christ's College, Cambridge, on September 22, 1927. His health had for some time been failing, but it was hoped that a visit to Trinidad, undertaken at the beginning of 1927, might re-establish it. This hope was not realised, and, after his return early in March, his condition continued to give his friends anxiety. This was accentuated during Easter week by an attack which for some forty-eight hours seemed likely to prove fatal. He made an unexpected and really wonderful recovery, and for a considerable part of May and June was able to lead an active life, attending to business and taking daily walks, both in the College grounds and in the town. The improvement did not continue, however, and although he was able to spend three weeks at Folkestone towards the end of July he was going downhill, with fluctuations, throughout the summer. The final illness began to show itself towards the end of August. Before his death he was contemplating a short account of the influence of Biological Science on the spread of Colonisation, to have been published in the ‘Cambridge History of the British Empire’, of which Dr. J. Holland Rose is one of the editors; but this essay does not appear to have been begun. Arthur Shipley was one of several children, of whom two sisters survive— Mrs. A. Hutchinson, wife of the present Professor of Mineralogy at Cambridge and Master of Pembroke College, and another who married Dr. H. M. Stewart, a well-known medical practitioner in Dulwich and Senior Surgeon of the South-Eastern Hospital for Children. His elder brother, Sir William Shipley (died 1922), was three times Mayor of Windsor, and his younger brother Reginald (died 1924) went to the Boer War as a captain of the City Imperial Volunteers, served as colonel in the Great War, and received the honour of C. M. G.

1985 ◽  
Vol 11 (1) ◽  
pp. 53-64 ◽  
Author(s):  
John Charmley

Duff Cooper fell in love with France during his first visit to Paris in 1900 and he remained faithful to her for the rest of his life. The fact that Paris in 1900 was deeply Anglophobic, because of the Boer war, had no effect upon Cooper's feelings for the city. His affection for France was no fair-weather plant. It was deepened by the experience of nine months in the trenches in the Great War and was, thereafter, proof against all discouragements. As a young Foreign Office clerk in 1923 he did not join in the fashionable disparagement of France inspired by the French occupation of the Ruhr. As Minister of War from 1935 to 1937 he fought for the creation of a British army which would be large enough to play a continental role and later, as First Lord of the Admiralty, he was a leading advocate of Anglo-French co-operation. After his resignation in protest against the Munich agreement, Cooper spent his time fostering the idea of an Anglo-French alliance as the corner-stone of a European combination against Hitler's Germany. His love for France even survived the fall of France in June 1940 and, at a time when many francophiles were repenting of their former faith. Cooper renewed his pledges of devotion. Speaking on the wireless as Minister of Information on the eve of the Franco-German armistice, he declared his faith that France would rise again: ‘This is not the first time that a great nation has been defeated and has recovered from defeat. They have fought with heroism against superior numbers and superior weapons; their losses have been terrible.’ At the Ministry of Information Cooper was one of the earliest patrons of General de Gaulle and his Free French Movement. Given such a long history of Francophilia what could have been more natural than that he should have been appointed as Britain's first post-war ambassador to France. It was not, however, quite so simple as that.


2020 ◽  
Vol 94 (3) ◽  
pp. 631-636
Author(s):  
Noam Maggor

Mark Peterson's The City-State of Boston is a formidable work of history—prodigiously researched, lucidly written, immense in scope, and yet scrupulously detailed. A meticulous history of New England over more than two centuries, the book argues that Boston and its hinterland emerged as a city-state, a “self-governing republic” that was committed first and foremost to its own regional autonomy (p. 6). Rather than as a British colonial outpost or the birthplace of the American Revolution—the site of a nationalist struggle for independence—the book recovers Boston's long-lost tradition as a “polity in its own right,” a fervently independent hub of Atlantic trade whose true identity placed it in tension with the overtures of both the British Empire and, later, the American nation-state (p. 631).


Lituanistica ◽  
2021 ◽  
Vol 67 (2) ◽  
Author(s):  
Julija Paškevičiūtė

The article focuses on the origins of French culture in Palanga, a Lithuanian seaside resort, that go back to the years of the rule of the Tyszkiewicz family. The emphasis is put on Palanga Botanical Park (created before the end of the nineteenth century) as the most significant trace of French culture present in the resort and the seaside region until now. The specific symbols in the park created according to the will of the Counts Tyszkiewicz reflect the actualities of French culture. The importance of this space in the city is revealed, and Édouard François André’s principles of park creation are discussed in a new context. They are related to the dialogue that has been established between the residents of Palanga, the park, its creator, and his granddaughter Florence André since the first years of the independence of Lithuania. In order to give a meaning to Édouard André’s creation and to the relationship between the two countries, the correspondence between the great-granddaughter of the famous French landscape designer and the former director of the park, Antanas Sebeckas, is disclosed. It reflects the endeavour of these two personalities and its value for the international relations in representing French culture to the public. Florence André’s letters to the author of this article are also an important resource as she explains the reasons why the park plays an essential role in Palanga. It is shown how certain personal life events (Florence André’s wedding ceremony in Palanga, the park created by her great-grandfather) have become an inclusive part of the history of the town and represent intercultural relations and exchanges. The article is also based on some memories and narratives of the members of the local community in which the park features as a symbol and tradition of the city.


1966 ◽  
Vol 18 (2) ◽  
pp. 297-313 ◽  
Author(s):  
Richard Dale

Ever since the discovery there of gold and diamonds in the last half of the nineteenth century, South Africa has engaged the rapt attention of the Western world. The saga of the Anglo-Boer War of 1899–1902, perhaps the last of the “gentlemen's wars,” and now the refurbished accounts of the gallant defense of Rorke's Drift in the AngloZulu War of 1879 have been fascinating material for both novelists and film scriptwriters. In addition, the history of South Africa is replete with titanic figures who rank with, or perhaps even above, those from the rest of the continent: the aggressive architect of empire, Cecil J. Rhodes; the redoubtable Zulu warrior, Chaka; the dour, stern-willed President of the South African Republic, “Oom” (Uncle) Paul Kruger; the world-renowned statesman and philosopher, Field Marshal Jan C. Smuts; the founding father of Indian independence, Mohandas K. Gandhi; the compassionate and courageous writer, Alan S. Paton; and the dignified, modest Zulu Nobel Laureate, Albert J. Luthuli. By any standard, South Africa and its leaders of all races have made far-reaching and impressive contributions to the continent, the British Empire, and the world at large.


2013 ◽  
Vol 10 (1) ◽  
pp. 1-15
Author(s):  
O. W. Saarinen

Kapuskasing, Ontario warrants special mention in the history of Canadian land use planning. The town first acquired special prominence immediately following World War I when it was the site of the first provincially-planned resource community in Canada. The early layout of the settlement reflected the imprints of both the "city beautiful" and "garden city" movements. After 1958, the resource community then became the focus for an important experiment in urban "fringe" rehabilitation at Brunetville, a suburban area situated just east of the planned Kapuskasing townsite. The author suggests that the role of the Brunetville experiment in helping to change the focus of urban renewal in Canada from redevelopment to rehabilitation has not been fully appreciated.


Author(s):  
Sergei G. Bocharov

The article covers the main points of the town-planning history of Karasubazar, the city of the Crimean khanate, and, most importantly, offers a graphic reconstruction of its master plan for the last quarter of the 18th century, the final stage of the state’s existence. Reconstruction of the historical topography of the late medieval city was carried out for the first time on the basis of three types of sources – written, cartographic, and archaeological. All the basic elements of the city’s historical topography as well as the plan of quarterly residential development and a network of streets are reconstructed. Characteristic features of the location of the quarters inhabited by the Greek, Armenian and Jewish population among the main population of the Tatar inhabitants are revealed. City mosques, bathhouses, fountains supplying the citizens with water, hotels-caravanserais, shopping malls, and production workshops are localized. It is found out that Karasubazar was the second largest settlement in the state, its capital Bakhchisarai being the largest one. By the final stage of the Crimean khanate’s existence the area of the urban development of Karasubazar was 109.0 hectares


2021 ◽  
pp. 377-388
Author(s):  
Dominic Perring

The evidence for London’s late fourth century decline is put under the microscope. The paucity and problematic interpretation of dating evidence is discussed, but it is concluded that important elements of London’s urban infrastructure were in serious disrepair from as early as the 380s. Some main roads could no longer have carried regular wheeled traffic. Sites of former public buildings on the margins of towns were converted into small cemeteries in the late fourth century, showing that the city was still populated but on a reduced scale and hinting at a closer relationship between communities of the living and communities of the dead. Rich assemblages recovered from within some wells within the town are thought likely to represent termination rituals, as properties were closed and households departed. Abandonment horizons can also be described from the finds left behind over the latest floors of some houses. These acts of closure and departure may also have begun in the 380s, perhaps under Magnus Maximus who had briefly revived London’s mint but also withdrew troops and administrators from Britain. Whilst the city may still have been occupied into the fifth century, this is far from certain, and there is no evidence of repair and refurbishment of urban properties beyond the last years of the fourth century. This evidence of redundancy and retreat seems consistent with the interrupted history of the diocesan administration. London had become marginal city of relatively little importance to Rome.


Author(s):  
Peter Davenport

The frustrated cry of the young Barry Cunliffe has an odd echo in these days of preservation in situ. Sitting in the Roman Baths on his first visit as a schoolboy in 1955, he was astonished at how much was unknown about the Baths, despite their international reputation: large areas ‘surrounded by big question marks . . . all around . . . the word ‘‘unexcavated’’ ’ (Cunliffe 1984: xiii; figure 1). His later understanding of the realities and constraints of excavation only sharpened his desire to know more. Now, fifty years on and more, due in large part to that drive to know, his curiosity, we can claim to have made as much progress in our understanding of the baths and the city around them as had occurred in all the years before his visit, a history of archaeological enquiry stretching back over 400 years. In 1955 the baths were much as they had been discovered in the 1880s and 1890s. They were not well understood. The town, or city, or whatever surrounded it, were almost completely unknown, or at best, misunderstood. It was still possible in that year to argue that the temple of Sulis Minerva was on the north of the King’s Bath, not, as records of earlier discoveries made clear, on the west (Richmond and Toynbee 1955). Yet as the young Cunliffe sat and mused, the archaeological world was beginning to take note and a modern excavation campaign was beginning; indeed had begun: Professor Ian Richmond, in a short eight years to become a colleague, had started ‘his patient and elegant exploration of the East Baths’ the summer before (Cunliffe 1969: v). Richmond initiated a small number of very limited investigations into the East Baths, elucidating a tangle of remains that, while clearly the result of a succession of alterations and archaeological phases, had never been adequately analysed. Richmond’s main aim was to understand the developmental history of the baths, and this approach, combined with a thoughtful and thorough study of the rest of the remains, led to a still broadly accepted phasing and functional analysis (Cunliffe 1969).


Author(s):  
Dora P. Crouch

The agora fulfilled a complex role in the life of Greek cities. In Greek agoras, nearly the whole range of public activities was accommodated: governmental, religious, commercial, military, and social. The market function of the agora was essential to the survival of the city, with the availabilty of everything from imported grain to locally grown lettuce. Services, from haircutting to the teaching of Stoic philosophy, were available. Government offices and officers were readily at hand. Temples, shrines, and monuments to heroes iterated religious, cultural, and moral values from every corner. The agora at Athens is probably the most thoroughly studied of the early ones. In shape it is an irregular quadrilateral, eventually monumentalized with stoas and other public buildings along all four sides. The buildings were placed at the edges of the large open space which therefore was available for many activities. Cisterns and wells of the pre- and postclassical periods were scattered over the surface. Only one well is known, however, from the classical period, that in the shrine in the northwest corner (Athenian Agora Guide,3) suggesting that the sixth century aqueduct was supplying enough water for the population during the fifth and early fourth centuries. Fountains marked important points of entry, and drains led the excess water northwestward toward the city gates (Figs. 16.15, 17.11). As the agora changed over time, being filled in with additional structures, the sources of water and the drains were continually adapted to the new demands. The organic form at Athens contrasts with the more regular but even earlier surviving form—eighth or seventh century B.C.—at Posidonia (Paestum), where a broad strip of public space for temples and agora was set aside at the center of the town (Fig. 5.1B). On this flat site, two sacred precincts flanked the agora (later Forum). The long and varied history of the site precludes our easy understanding of the design of the Greek agora here. Regularity at Posidonia is a function of its status as a colonial city—a city that was planned and laid out all at one time. Careful attention was given to the provision and use of water.


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