Reading Test 08

|Part 1|

This is very much the story of a story

A beautifully preserved account of the King’s Library reveals the complex history of how one of the British Museum’s most famous collections came to be.

The outline of the tale has been told before. It can be found in Edward Miller’s history of the British Museum, Arundell Esdaile’s book on the British Museum Library, rather more chattily, in Edward Edwards’s Lives of the founders of the Museum, and most recently, and its first excursion this century outside the literature of the Museum, in Christopher Hibbert’s new biography of George III.

The December 1850 issue of the Quarterly Review contains a long article reviewing a number of official reports into the functioning of the British Museum (including incidentally a review of the House of Commons Select Committee report of 1836, fifteen years earlier: it is never too late to review a good report). Although anonymous, it was written by Richard Ford, probably best remembered today as the author of Murray’s Handbook for travellers in Spain.

The review contains much that is entertaining and amusing, and I must say it can be recommended today to anyone concerned with organising Library services, but for our purposes the bit that matters is the allegation that, among other things, George IV had been considering selling George III’s library to the Tsar of Russia, until the British government intervened and arranged for its transfer instead to the British Museum.

This story was picked up during 1851 by a number of contributors to Notes & Queries, where various mischievous observations about what happened and who was involved were made. These comments revolved chiefly round the suggestion that the King’s Library was not the munificent gift to the nation that it was claimed to be, but that the government had in effect had to buy the Library, either directly by purchase, or indirectly by agreeing to treat the King’s requests for money more sympathetically than hitherto.

In August 1851, however, came a communication to Notes & Queries of a different kind from the previous notes, which are rather more gossipy in nature. It is signed “C.” He writes: “I have delayed contradicting the stories told about the King’s Library in the Quarterly Review of last December ... I am sorry to say still more gravely and circumstantially reproduced by the Editor of Notes & Queries. I have delayed, I say, until I was enabled to satisfy myself more completely as to one of the allegations in your Note.”

“C.” goes on: “I can now venture to assure you that the whole story of the projected sale to Russia is absolutely unfounded”. He then goes on to sketch in background about George IV’s wish to dispose of the Library and the government’s success in getting it to the British Museum.

“C.” then objects in particular to the suggestion, made by the Notes & Queries editor rather than in the Quarterly, that Princess Lieven, the well-known socialite and friend of George IV’s, whose husband was Russian ambassador in London at the time, had been involved in the plan. He explains that Princess Lieven was adamant that she had known of no such proposal, and therefore that that was that.

But that was not that. The December issue of Notes & Queries includes a short note, signed “Griffin”, arguing that while Princess Lieven may claim to have known nothing, it did not mean that there had not been talk about a Russian purchase. “Griffin” also suggests that one of the King’s motives for getting rid of the Library was to sort out problems arising from George III’s Will (a suggestion, as has been pointed out before, that is incidentally supported by an entry from early 1823 in the journal of Charles Greville).

This provoked “C.” to return to the matter in early 1852, when he argued that it was inconceivable that Princess Lieven would not have known that such a thing was in the air, given her court and social connections. In other words, the Russian connection is just idle speculation.

An interesting aspect of all this is that the initial stirring and rumour-mongering was all to do with money: was the library, or was it not, paid for? It is the intervention of “C.” and his fervent denials that bring the Russians into prominence.

The identity of “C.” is obscure. Arundell Esdaile identifies him as John Wilson Croker, the veteran politician and essayist. This seems to me unlikely: Croker was certainly involved in public affairs in the 1820s, but he was also a major contributor, a sort of editorial advisor, to the Quarterly Review, where the original offending article appeared. Indeed he wrote his own piece for it on the Museum in the December 1852 issue, without referring at all to the King’s Library stories, and referring to Richard Ford’s article in respectful not to say glowing terms. A footnote to his article, however, states that the Quarterly expected to publish an authoritative account of the King’s Library business in the future: it never did.

|Part 2|

De profundis clamavi

A But not too loud! According to the Royal National Institute for Deaf People, there has been a threefold increase in hearing loss and, in future, deafness will become an epidemic. It is hardly surprising that new research shows complaints about noise, in particular loud music and barking dogs, are on the increase. So dire has the situation become that the National Society for Clean Air and the Environment was even moved to designate 7 June 2000 as Noise Action Day.

B There are so many different sources of noise competing for people’s attention. Travelling on a train as it saunters gently through the countryside was once a civilised and enjoyable experience. That delight has all but disappeared. Because we have to reach our destination more quickly, the train hurtles at breakneck speed along tracks not designed to carry carriages at such high velocity. The train is noisier. And so are the occupants. They have to compete with the din of the train; and the conversations of their fellow travellers. And then there are the ubiquitous headphones (one set if you’re lucky); not to mention that bane of all travellers, the mobile phone–not one’s own, of course, because one has switched it off. The noise sensitive are hit by a double whammy here: the phone going off and the person answering in a loud voice. It is, however, gratifying to see that some train companies request people to keep the volume of their headphones down. Like no-smoking carriages we should have more no-noise carriages: mobile-free, headphone-free and compouter-free zones!

C And the answer? Stay at home? No, not really. The neighbours do DIY: if you are lucky between 9 am and 7pm, and, if you are not, 24 hours a day. They play loud music, sing, play the piano, rip up their carpets; they jump up and down on bare floorboards to annoy you further. They have loud parties to irritate you and cats, dogs and children that jump onto your wooden floors and make your heart stop. And, because they want to hear the music in other parts of their flat they pump up the volume, so that you can feel the noise as well as hear it. And if you are very fortunate, they attach the stereo to the walls above your settee, so that you can vibrate as well. Even if you live in a semi-detached or detached property, they will still get you.

D People escape to the countryside and return to the urban environment. They cannot tolerate the noise–the tractors, the cars and the motorbikes ripping the air apart as they career along country roads. Then there are the country dirt-track rallies that destroy the tranquillity of country week-ends and holidays. And we mustn’t forget the birds! Believe me, the dawn chorus is something to contend with. So, when you go to the countryside, make sure you take your industrial ear-muffs with you!

E A quiet evening at the cinema, perhaps, or a restaurant? The former will have the latest all-round stereophonic eardrum-bursting sound system, with which they will try to deafen you. Film soundtracks register an average of 82 decibels with the climax of some films hitting as high as 120! And, in the restaurant, you will be waited on by waiters who have been taking their employers to court, because the noise in their working environment is way above the legal limits. Normal conversation registers at 60 decibels. But noise levels of up to 90 are frequent in today’s restaurants. The danger level is considered to be any noise above 85 decibels! Shopping is also out, because stereophonic sound systems have landed there, too.

F Recently the law in the United Kingdom has been changed vis-à-vis noise, with stiffer penalties: fines, confiscation of stereo equipment and eviction for serious offences. Noise curfews could also be imposed in residential areas by enforcing restrictions on noise levels after certain times in the evenings. Tighter legislation is a step in the right direction. But there is no one solution to the problem, least of all recourse to the law; in fact, in some well-publicised cases, the legal and bureaucratic process has been unbearable enough to drive people to suicide.

G The situation needs to be addressed from a variety of different angles simultaneously. There are practical solutions like using building materials in flats and houses that absorb sound: sound-proofing material is already used in recording studios and, whilst it is far from cheap to install, with research and mass sales, prices will come down. Designers have begun to realise that there is a place for soft furnishings in restaurants, like carpets, soft wall-coverings and cushions. As well as creating a relaxing ambiance, they absorb the noise.

H Informal solutions like mediation are also frequently more effective than legislation. And the answer may partly be found in the wider social context. The issue is surely one of public awareness and of politeness, of respect for neighbours, of good manners, and also of citizenship; in effect, how individuals operate within a society and relate to each other. And, perhaps, we need to be taught once again to tolerate silence.

|Part 3|

Classical and modern

In the United Kingdom at university level, the decline in the study of Latin and Greek, the classics, has been reversed. As a result of renewed interest in reading classical literature and history, more and more students are enrolling on classical studies courses. The purists may deplore this development – “it is yet another example of the ‘dumbing down’ of tertiary education with students studying classical literature and history in English rather than the original languages”. And, I must admit, they do have a point. But the situation is surely not as dire as the ultimate demise of classics as an intellectual discipline.

A classical education is a boon and should be encouraged. But, before looking at the advantages of studying the classics, which appear, incidentally, more indirect and less tangible than other disciplines, let us examine the criticisms that are often levelled against studying Latin and Greek.

The 60s with their trendy ideas in education are blamed for the steady decline in studying the classics. But the rot had set in much earlier, when Latin and Greek were no longer required for university entrance. With the introduction of the National Curriculum in secondary schools came the biggest blow. Schools came under pressure to devote more time to core subjects like English, mathematics, the sciences, history and geography. This left scant room for the more ‘peripheral’ subject areas like the classics.

There was a further squeeze with the rush into teaching IT and computing skills. As schools could no longer choose what they wanted to teach, so subjects like the classics were further marginalised. Take Latin. In 1997, 11,694 pupils took Latin GCSE, while, in 1988, the number was 17,000; Comprehensive schools now supply 40% fewer Latin candidates, whereas grammar schools have seen a 20% decline. Latin candidates from Independent schools have fallen by only 5%. As a consequence, classics has been relegated to the ‘better’ grammar or comprehensive schools, and the minor and great public schools. Only one third of Latin GCSE entries come from the state sector. It can, therefore, be of no surprise to anyone when the pursuit of a classical education is attacked as elitist.

Tainted by this misconception, the classics are then further damned as being irrelevant in the modern world. Having been pushed into such a tight corner, it is difficult to fight free. A classical education is so unlike, say, business studies or accountancy where young people can go directly into a profession and find a job easily. For classicists, this is not an option. Other than teaching, there is no specific professional route after leaving university. And, with the pressure in the present climate to have a job, it is less easy than previously for young people to resist the pressure from the world outside academia, and from their families, to study something else that will make them money. The relevancy argument is a hard nut to crack.

Latin and Greek have been damned as dead languages that offer us nothing. The response to this criticism is, in fact, straightforward. Most European languages are a development of the classical continuum. And so having even a rudimentary knowledge prepares pupils for understanding other modern European languages. As for pertinence in the modern world, learning Latin and Greek are highly relevant. The study of these languages develops analytical skills that have, to a large extent, been lost. They teach discipline and thinking and open up the whole of Western civilisation just as the discovery of the classical world did during the Renaissance.

Latin has also been called food for the brain. It gives students a grounding in the allusions in much of European literature and thought. Modern writers do not use these allusions themselves, first, because they do not know them, and, second, because their audience does not know them either. Sadly, most people no longer have the ability to interpret the allusions in art and the same has happened with the classics vis-à-vis literature.

The danger to Western and world culture is great if the classical tradition is lost. The spiral of decline is not just restricted to the United Kingdom. Other European countries face the same loss to their heritage. If we abandon the classics, we will not be able to interpret our past and to know where we have come from. A common refrain in modern society is the lack of thinking ability among even the best graduates. They enter work, perhaps as bright as any of their predecessors. But without the necessary skills they run around trying to reinvent the wheel. As Ecclesiastes says: nihil novum sub sole est.

But help is at hand. Concerned by the fact that fewer and fewer teenagers have access to a range of foreign languages, the government is harnessing the power of the Internet to introduce a distance-learning programme, where pupils will study Latin and other minority languages at their own pace. Initially piloted in 60 schools from autumn 2000, the internet-based courses will enable pupils to access advice from specialists by e-mail.