Scotland

Encyclopaedia Britannica

Living in the technologically focused 21st century, we have access to more information than any generations before us. The answer to a question is often “just google it” and we hit the internet to search for our response, bearing in mind a good proportion of the information published online is not always accurate.

Before internet, a researcher could go to the library, or ask a knowledgeable friend, or consult the trusty set of encyclopaedias on the bookshelves at home. Coming from the Greek words enkyklios (general) and paideia (education), the books were designed to offer a comprehensive set of knowledge on a range of subjects. They differ from dictionaries, which only provided the origin and meaning of words.

The earliest surviving encyclopaedia was Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis Historia. Published in the 1st century AD, it included 37 chapters on natural history, medicine, geology, geography and many other topics. Pliny stated he sourced the 20,000 facts published in the series from consulting 2,000 works by over 200 authors.

Encyclopaedias were out of reach for most people for centuries, remaining in the realm of academia and intended to impress writers and wealthy patrons, rather than educate the general public. Attitudes began to change in the 18th century when printing was easy and literacy was rising. General-purpose encyclopaedias began to be more commonly distributed.

1. Map of New Zealand

 A map of New Zealand and the Pacific Islands appearing in the 1903 Encyclopaedia Britannica. WRM ref: 1969.32

One of the classics of the encyclopaedia world is the Encyclopaedia Britannica. It was first published in 1768, making it the oldest English language encyclopaedia still in production.

The first set was printed in Edinburgh, Scotland, and comprised three volumes of general knowledge with the first engraved illustrations completed by Andrew Bell. The encyclopaedia was very popular and the second edition covered 10 volumes, growing to 20 volumes by the time the fourth edition was produced between 1801 and 1810.

With a reputation as a scholarly work, the publication attracted more eminent writers and contributors. The ninth and eleventh editions, produced between 1875 and 1889, and 1911 respectively, are considered landmarks of scholarly literary style.  After being purchased by an American company, however, Britannica began to shorten articles in order to meet the requirements of the North American market. Despite being produced in the USA, it retained British English spelling.

The fifteenth edition, published in 2010, was the last printed version of Encyclopaedia Britannica. This set spanned 32,640 pages of information in 32 volumes. Now it is solely produced online, with the help of over 4,000 contributors.

2. Britannica with revolving bookcase

 The tenth edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica, with a custom made rotating bookshelf and reading ledge. WRM ref: 2015.52

The Whanganui Regional Museum holds two sets of Encyclopaedia Britannica, including a set of the prestigious ninth edition, at its scholarly peak. The second set is a tenth edition published in 1902, and belonged to Fred Symes, a Whanganui banker and prominent Mason. This set was donated with a custom built rotating wooden bookcase, specifically designed to hold the 35-volume set, and is complete with a foldout shelf on which to rest the volumes while reading.

 

Sandi Black is the archivist at Whanganui Regional Museum.

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Sampler a right old age

Sampler a right old age

I did not know that a beginner’s exercise in embroidery is called a sampler. So when Kathy Greensides says she’s got a 1787 sampler for her turn in our From the Vault series, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.  The only samplers I knew were manufactured by Griffins and came in a large box or tin.

I guessed that wasn’t what Kathy meant, unless the museum kept 223-year-old mouldy biscuits in the basement.  My enlightenment was audible – like a clunky old bakelite switch – when I saw this embroidered treasure. Of course, it’s not strictly a sampler because whoever made it is hardly a beginner.

The sad thing is we know almost nothing about the needle wielder, the person who sewed the design into the fabric and created what is now a relic of history. Her name was A Rouse and Kathy is fairly sure she was an adult at the time of the sampler’s creation.

It is a map of England and Wales, depicting each shire in different coloured outlines and naming each one. Some grab your attention immediately. Liverpool – spelled Leverpool on the sampler – caught Kathy’s eye because that’s where she’s from. That’s one reason why she chose it.

“I actually sew,” she says. “I do embroidery and cross-stitch, so when I found it …”

The map also shows the coasts of Ireland and France as well as some of southern Scotland. The North Sea bears its original name of the German Ocean, a name that changed after early 20th century hostilities deemed anything German unacceptable in England.

Kathy tells me it is on linen, has a linen backing and looks like it was once framed. The colours are still quite vivid and the thread is silk.

Other places named on the sampler have a connection with Kathy and her family, like the Isle of Man where she used to holiday, although she says she never went there during the Isle of Man TT (motorbike races).  “We used to avoid it then because it was so busy and expensive.”

However, her uncle would have gone. He was actually the Viking King of Man for a long time, says Kathy.  “He used to wear the helmet and everything,” and I don’t think she means a motorbike helmet.

It’s an old Norse tradition, she says.  “Every year they’d get out the longboats and they’d all dress up. They’d have feasts and longboat races. As he was the king he’d preside over it all.” She says he was a large man with a big, full beard and he’d tell stories about the fairies. She says that an island demands that the fairies are chased away in a particularly strenuous ritual, during which her uncle fell into a rabbit hole and broke his leg. Thereafter this Viking king would take great delight in telling people how he had to explain to his doctor how he injured himself chasing fairies.

The Isle of Man is obviously a lot more than just a tax haven.

Kathy works with collections, which is how she discovered this embroidered treasure.  “I put stuff away. I accession it, photograph it and when that’s done I find a place for it. So I was putting some things away and had to pull this out [the sampler] to get to one of the boxes and I saw the label on it,” she says.

That we know so little about this artifact – and many others – is of some concern. It was gifted to the museum by Mr Morrie Randall in 1974, but we have no idea who made it and why. We can only assume it was made in the UK and the date stitched into linen is 1787. That expensive silk thread was used says something about the fortunes of the maker’s family … perhaps. The thread could have been a gift, for all we know.

Kathy has made the odd sampler. “It makes you think you should write a little about yourself and stitch it on to the back for future generations,” she says. Good idea, that way the work arrives at the museum with a ready-made provenance.

Original article appeared in the Wanganui Midweek June 2010.  Reproduced with permission of the author.

Letters from the Front

With centenary commemorations of the First World War underway and continuing for the next five years, more and more stories are emerging; stories of love, stories of loss, and they all help us to remember the effect of the war on everyone at the front and at home.  The Museum was lucky to have recently been donated a collection of archives and images from the Wilson and MacKinnon families in Whanganui that tell yet another wartime story.

2014.61.2 a Arthur Wilson served as a Private in the 24th Reinforcements F Company of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force.  He was trained at Featherston Military Camp before relocating to Trentham and finally embarking for England on 16th April 1917.  Like many soldiers he wrote regular letters home, including to his sister Mag (Margaret) Wilson who lived at Alton Villa on St John’s Hill in Wanganui, and several of these letters are included in the collection.

2014.61.30Mag was a suit maker during the war, and Arthur made comment in his letters that she would be running out of clients based on the number of troops he witnessed coming into camp.  Once overseas, Arthur tells Mag about his continued weapons training and the conditions both in camp and at the front.  He comments on the ton of mud that stuck to his boots while serving in the trenches in France, and that his feet were never warm.  A highlight for him, despite the circumstances, was being in isolation with measles which took him away from the action during November 1917.

In March 1918 Arthur wrote about another break from the front: “We are away behind the line just now, & it is just alright to be there. Four of us are doing guard work in a small village just now. I can hear those guns roaring away, I simply hate the sound, & I don’t want to be any closer to them but I suppose we will soon be up near them again.”

2014.61.41Another common theme in Arthur’s letters is his love of his hometown Wanganui, and he often expresses the desire to return to the quiet town and live out his life in peace.  However, Arthur did not come home again; he was killed in action on 24th August 1918 at Bapaume, France, aged 35 years.  He is buried at the Grevillers British Cemetery at Pas-de-Calais.

2014.61.22Throughout the letters, Arthur refers to his friend who was also Mag’s sweetheart.  Duncan “Mack” MacKinnon was from Edinburgh, Scotland, but enlisted in the 10th Reinforcements New Zealand Engineers of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force.  Mack embarked to Suez, Egypt, on 4th March 1916, but this collection includes only one of his letters, which he wrote to Mag on 28th May 1918.  He thanks her for the portrait she sent but writes that he is awaiting “the other one”, stating he wished he could be there to take it himself but it would require them having the house to themselves to do so rather than risking it by ‘their tree’ or round by the lake.  There is no mention if this photograph was created or received.

Mack survived the war.  He sent a telegram to Mag in February 1920 saying he had been demobilised and would return home, but he didn’t make it back to New Zealand until May.  They wasted no time and were married before the year had finished.