Academic literature on the topic 'Criterion (London, England : 1922)'

In many cases in science, many discoveries are made by pure chance, as happened for example to Alexander Fleming (Darvel (Scotland) 6 August 1881–London (England) 11 March 1955) who, while observing slides under a microscope in 1922, a few weeks after putting his nasal mucus on a Petri dish, noticed that cultures of microbes had developed all over the plate, except for his secretion [...]

Stanley Keith Runcorn was born in 1922 in Southport, Lancashire, the son of a monumentalmason of staunch Congregationalist persuasion. He was educated at the King George VGrammar School, where his strongest subjects were history and mathematics. When in thesixth form his headmaster persuaded him to take science subjects, and he was subsequentlyawarded a State Scholarship to study at Cambridge University. At an early age his father hadtaken him to a small local observatory, encouraging his interest in astronomy. On the sportingside, in spite of his later interest in rugby he refused to play the game at school and insteadconcentrated on swimming. Under his captaincy his house regularly won the swimming trophy. Runcorn showed an early interest in religious and cultural matters, which was to stay with him throughout his life. He attended a Methodist Sunday school and for some time provided a Sunday evening service for his sister and grandmother while his parents attended church. He read extensively and went to London on his own, visiting museums and architectural landmarks. Later, while at Cambridge, he developed a love of music. In 1940 he entered Gonville and Caius College at Cambridge to read electrical engineering. After graduating in 1943 he commenced research at the Royal Radar Establishment (RRE), remaining there until the end of the war. During his time at the RRE he was confirmed into the Church of England.

The present paper reviews the life and achievements of Professor Boris Petrovich Babkin (MD DSc LLD). History is only worth writing about if it teaches us about the future; therefore, this historical review concludes by describing what today’s and future gastrointestinal physiologists could learn from Dr Babkin’s life.Dr Babkin was born in Russia in 1877. He graduated with an MD degree from the Military Medical Academy in St Petersburg, Russia, in 1904. Not being attracted to clinical practice, and after some hesitation concerning whether he would continue in history or basic science of medicine, he entered the laboratory of Professor Ivan Petrovich Pavlov. Although he maintained an interest in history, in Pavlov’s exciting environment he became fully committed to physiology of the gastrointestinal system. He advanced quickly in Russia and was Professor of Physiology at the University of Odessa. In 1922, he was critical of the Bolshevik revolution, and after a short imprisonment, he was ordered to leave Russia. He was invited with his family by Professor EH Starling (the discoverer of secretin) to his department at University College, London, England. Two years later, he was offered a professorship in Canada at Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia. After contributing there for four years, he joined McGill University, Montreal, Quebec, in 1928 as Research Professor. He remained there for the rest of his career. Between 1940 and 1941, he chaired the Department, and following retirement, he remained as Research Professor. At the invitation of the world-famous neurosurgeon, Wilder Penfield, Dr Babkin continued as Research Fellow in the Department of Neurosurgery until his death in 1950 at age 73.His major achievements were related to establishing the concept of brain-gut-brain interaction and the influence of this on motility, as well as on interface of multiple different cells, nerves and hormones on secretory function. He had a major role in the rediscovery of gastrin. He established a famous school of gastrointestinal physiologists at McGill University. He supported his trainees and helped them establish their careers. He received many honors: a DSc in London, England, and an LLD from Dalhousie University. Most importantly, he was the recipient of the Friedenwald Medal of the American Gastroenterological Association for lifelong contributions to the field. Dr Babkin taught us his philosophical aspect of approaching physiology, his devotion to his disciples and his overall kindness. Most importantly, he has proven that one can achieve international recognition by publishing mainly in Canadian journals. He is an example to follow.

AbstractThroughout his career, George Ellery Hale thought globally. “Make no small plans” he was often heard to say (Seares 1939). His early sojourns to Europe, encountering the talent and resources in England and the Continent, contributed to his outlook. He knew that their patronage was critical to reach his personal goals. Here I outline the steps Hale took to establish the new “astrophysics” as a discipline, by creating the Astrophysical Journal, establishing a common language and then, through the first decades of the 20th Century, building an international collaboration to coordinate solar and later all astronomical research. The latter effort, which began in 1904, had expanded by 1910 to encompass stellar astronomy, when the Solar Union deliberated over spectroscopic classification systems, a standard wavelength system and stellar magnitude systems. This work continued through the fifth Union meeting in Bonn in 1913, which turned out to be the last because of the First World War. During the war, Hale became Chair of the National Research Council of the U.S. National Academy of Sciences, applying scientific talent to winning the war. He was also the Academy’s Foreign Secretary, so Hale became deeply involved in re-establishing international scientific relations after the war. In conjunction with Arthur Schuster and Emile Picard, he helped found the International Research Council in 1919, which formed the framework within which the worlds of science reorganized themselves. From this, the International Astronomical Union was born. It was not an easy birth in a world still filled with tension and anger over the war; formative conferences in London and Brussels reflected the extremes. Nevertheless, its first General Assembly was held in Rome in 1922. It would be years before it became truly international, “in the complete sense of the word” (Elis Strömgren), but many of the proposals made during the years of the Solar Union concerning disciplinary standardization were ratified. I will concentrate on this latter story, remembering Hale for his devotion to true internationalism.

Ali Fethi (Okyar) Bey, the interior minister of the Grand National Assembly government, took a two-month leave on 3 July 1922 to receive treatment in Europe. During this time, he conducted negotiations in Italy, France and England on the joint peace terms of March 1922, which England and France presented to Turkey and Greece. He arrived in London on 30 July 1922 after Rome and Paris; but unlike other countries, he could not hold high-level talks there. During August, his requests to meet with Foreign Minister Lord Curzon were rejected on various excuses. He could only meet with secondary officials who had no power to influence the foreign policy. Therefore, the current literature is dominated by the opinion that Fethi Bey's London mission ended in failure and the Turkish Great Offensive decision was taken after that. However, the meetings and correspondence between Mustafa Kemal Pasha and Fethi Bey before the Turkish Great Offensive allows for a different interpretation. According to these meetings, which Fethi Bey mentioned in his memoirs, delaying the England’s realization of the situation was of great importance for the preparations for the Turkish offensive, which was carried out with the utmost secrecy, and this was the main goal of Fethi Bey's London mission. The main purpose of Fethi Bey's visit to Europe was to prevent an actual intervention by England until the attack takes place, and to create public opinion in favor of the national struggle and against the British government, rather than holding peace talks with Italy, France and England. In this study, Fethi Bey's visit to London, which took place just before the Great Offensive, was considered as one of the measures taken to protect the confidentiality of the attack, as a diplomatic maneuver, and Fethi Bey's attempts at the British government and his public opinion-building activities in London were examined. The main source of the study is Fethi Bey's memoirs and British archive documents.

Charles Herbert Lankester (1879-1969) was without a doubt the most dominant figure of Central American orchidology during his time. Better known as ‘Don Carlos’, Lankester was born in Southampton, England, on June 14 1879. It was in London that he read an announcement offering a position to work as an assistant to the recently founded Sarapiquí Coffee Estates Company in Costa Rica, he applied and was hired. Surely influenced by his uncle’s zoological background, Lankester was at first interested in birds and butterflies. However, living in Cachí, at that time one of the regions with the greatest botanical diversity, he must have fallen under the spell of the plant world as he soon began collecting orchids in the nearby woods. Many of the plants he collected at this time proved to be new species. With no literature at his hand to determine the plants he collected, Lankester started corresponding with the assistant director of the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, Arthur Hill in 1910, and somewhat later with Robert Allen Rolfe, Kew’s most eminent authority on orchids. At the same time, Lankester began his collection of living plants that would become so famous years later. He returned to England in 1920 to enroll his five children in English schools. Lankester traveled to Africa from 1920 to 1922, hired by the British Government to do research on coffee plantations in Uganda. When returning to England, he found that Rolfe had died the year before. Many orchids that he had brought to Kew were left without identification. Lankester was back in Costa Rica in 1922, the year that was a turning point in his career as an orchidologist: it brought the first correspondence with Oakes Ames. Over the next fifteen years, Ames would discover more than 100 new species among the specimens he received from Costa Rica. In 1922, Ames began a series of publications on orchids, which he named Schedulae Orchidianae. In its third fascicle, in January 1923, Ames started to describe many of the Lankester orchids, which were deposited at Kew and had been left unidentified. Ames kept asking Lankester to send more and more specimens. After 1930, Lankester and Ames seem to drift slowly apart. Ames was taken in more by administrative work at Harvard, and Lankester traveled abroad more frequently. In 1955, after his wife’s death and already 76 years old, Lankester decided to sell his farm but retained the small part which contained his garden, a piece of land called “El Silvestre”. Lankester moved to a house he had bought in Moravia, one of the suburbs of the capital, San José. On a section of this farm called “El Silvestre”, Lankester began his wonderful collections of orchids and plants of other families, which formed the basis of the Charles H. Lankester Botanical Garden of the University of Costa Rica.

David Geoffrey Dalgliesh, naval surgeon was born on 22 March 1922 to Kenneth and Ellen Dalgliesh. With three sisters and a younger brother he grew up in Sidcup, Kent, in semi-rural surroundings of gardens, fields and woodlands where he developed a lasting love of natural history. Aged nine he learnt woodwork, a manual skill that re-emerged later in his gift for surgery. He attended Merchant Taylor's School until 1939, taking the 1st MB examination in preparation for entering medical school. When World War II began in September 1939 he was of military age but compulsorily reserved as a future doctor. After a gap year as agricultural labourer, fire watcher and founder member of the Local Defence Volunteers (forerunner of the Home Guard), David joined St Thomas's Hospital Medical School in 1940. His early months of study coincided with the London blitz, in which every city hospital was fully involved and severely tested. Later he served in emergency dressing stations, set up in southern England to treat casualties returning from the Normandy invasion. On graduating MRCS and LRCP in 1946, David had gained an unusual but invaluable practical training in emergency medicine.

Francis Thomas Bacon, known to all his friends as Tom, was a gentleman scientist with impeccable antecedents. He was a direct descendant of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal in the time of Queen Elizabeth I. Sir Nicholas’s son by his second marriage was Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626), Lord Keeper of the Great Seal in the time of James the First, the author of Bacon’s Esay, Novum Organum, The New Atlantis , etc., who became Baron Verulam, Viscount St Albans. He persuaded his contemporaries that a scientific society should be founded in England; this led to the formation of the Royal Society itself. It is also quite possible that Tom was a descendant of the family of Roger Bacon of Oxford (1214-1294) who also was a pioneer of science. Tom Bacon was born at Ramsden Hall, Billericay. His father, Thomas Walter Bacon (1863-1950) was an electrical engineer who, during the later years of the last century, had worked for the Eastern Telegraph Company, both in their workshops in London and in their cable ships. He encouraged his sons to aim for careers in science and engineering. Tom was educated first at St Peters Court Preparatory School in Broadstairs Kent; he had hoped for a career in the Royal Navy but was turned down for Osborne at the age of 12 owing to failing the eyesight test. He then went on to Eton from 1918 to 1922, gaining the School Physics Prize in 1922. From Eton Tom went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, taking the Mechanical Sciences Tripos in 1925. It was while he was at Cambridge that Bacon realized the significance of the Carnot limitation on the thermal efficiency of heat engines and this was to influence almost the whole of the rest of his life.

AbstractThe first female Fellows of the Geological Society of London were elected in May 1919. Brief biographies were documented by Burek in 2009 as part of the celebrations for the bicentenary of the Geological Society. While some of those women were well known (e.g. Gertrude Elles and Ethel Wood), others had seemingly been forgotten. In the decade since that publication, information has come to light about those we knew so little about. There are, however, still some details evading research. From 1919 until 1925, 33 women were elected FGS, including Isobel Ellie Knaggs (1922) and Mabel Tomlinson (1924). Mabel Tomlinson had two careers, and is remembered both as an extraordinary teacher and a Pleistocene geologist. She was awarded the Lyell Fund in 1937 and R.H. Worth Prize in 1961, one of only 13 women to have received two awards from the Geological Society. She inspired the educational Tomlinson–Brown Trust. Isabel Knaggs was born in South Africa and died in Australia but spent all her school, university and working years in England. She made significant contributions to crystallography, working with eminent crystallography scientists while remaining a lifelong FGS. The achievements of Tomlinson and Knaggs are considerable, which makes their relative present-day obscurity rather puzzling.

Here at Queensland University of Technology, the former Arts Faculty has been replaced by a new Faculty of Creative Industries led by the internationally renowned scholar John Hartley. This has entailed a great deal of reorganisation, planning and debate - very little of which need concern us here. However there was one discussion that does bear fairly directly on my topic. This had to do with whether the discipline of journalism should be included within Creative Industries. Though this was eventually resolved in the affirmative some felt that to call a journalist 'creative' was tantamount to an insult. What was at stake here was the old issue of the relationship between the journalist and reality. When the word 'creative' is rejected as non-relevant to the practice of journalism what we have is a signal that the doctrine of empiricism is still alive and well. This remains the staple fare of journalist educators despite having been subjected to devastating attacks by Roy Bhaskar in The Possibilities of Naturalism: A Philosophical Critique of the Contemporary Human Sciences (1979) and in Scientific Realism & Human Emancipation (1986). As Bhaskar has pointed out for the empiricist "…the ultimate objects of knowledge are atomistic events. Such events constitute given facts and their conjunctions exhaust the objective content of our idea of natural necessity. Knowledge and the world may be viewed as surfaces whose points are in isomorphic correspondence…" (Bhaskar 24). Within the empiricist worldview the task of the journalist is to boldly go and find out the facts and report them back to the reader. Similarly within the same outlook the task of the documentary photography can be seen as the recording of what is. Outside the realm of the journalist educator few would today subscribe to such a view of the role of the photographer. Not only has theory advanced beyond classical empiricism, but such has been the strength of the reaction, that theorists such as Simon Watney have felt compelled to write an 'obituary notice' for the British Documentary tradition (12). Watney claimed that the activity of the photographers was motivated by a theoretical assumption that they recorded or reported the truth. For Watney it would seem that the truth is that there is no such thing as the truth and that the photographers served institutional and ideological interests. However drawing upon Bhaskarian Critical Realism it is a fairly easy task to refute scepticism in the strong form that Watney advances. To start with, the claim that it is true that there is no truth is itself self-cancelling. Nor can scepticism about the possibility of truth sustain an account of, for example, medical science where our knowledge is progressive and accumulative. More serious for the practice of documentary photography have been the technological advances that have called into question the very possibility of our ever knowing how 'creative' i.e. how much of a faker a photographer has been. It is to the consideration of just this one aspect of the impact of the new digital technology that I now turn. Photography in the Digital Age: Distinguishing between truth and evidence The digital camera would appear to have given the photographer the power of unlimited creativity and indeed to have put her in the position of Absolute Creator. Especially worrying to some is that the evidential status of the photograph has been definitively called into question. Commentators such as Dai Vaughan in For Documentary (1999) see this as the end of relationship between the camera and reality. Brian Winston has expressed similar views in Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited (1995). It is important to point out here that we need to avoid confusing the question of evidence and that of truth. The latter concept is ultimately an ontological matter while that of evidence belongs to the realm of epistemology. It is failure to make this distinction that has led to the apocalyptic tone adapted by Vaughan and others. Moreover photography has never had a simple relationship with reality. Photography and fakery have gone hand in hand since the inception of the medium. Dorothea Lange's touching up of her famous Migrant Mother and Robert Capa's faking of the death of the Spanish republican soldier are just two of the most famous examples. The latter produced one of the most famous of all war photographs. Entitled Falling Soldier, it was taken in September 1936 during the Spanish Civil War. It purports to show a soldier at the moment of death. He is thrown backward and his rifle has been flung out of his hand. Capa himself claimed that the photograph was taken when he and the man he was to photograph: …were on the Cordoba front, stranded there, the two of them, Capa with his precious camera and the soldier with his rifle. The soldier was impatient. He wanted to get back to the Loyalist lines. Time and again he climbed up and peered over the sandbags. Each time he would drop back at the warning rattle of machine-gun fire. Finally the soldier muttered something to the effect that he was going to take the long chance. He clambered out of the trench with Capa behind him. The machine guns rattled and Capa automatically snapped his camera, falling beside the body of his companion. Two hours later, when it was dark, and the guns were still, the photographer crept across the broken ground to safety. Later he discovered that he had taken one of the finest action shots of the Spanish war (Whelan 96). Capa's photograph went around the world and it was very effective in mobilising support for the anti-fascist Spanish Republican cause, that is Capa's photo helped the good guys. There has however been a fair deal of controversy over whether this photo was faked. The evidence seems to suggest that it was (Whelan 95-100). Does it matter? Richard Whelan in Robert Capa (1985) concludes: "To insist upon knowing whether the photograph actually shows a man at the moment he has been hit by a bullet is both morbid and trivialising, for the picture's greatness ultimately lies in its symbolic implications, not in its literal accuracy as a report on the death of a particular man" (100). Nigel Warburton in Varieties of Photographic representation: Documentary, Pictorial and Quasi-documentary (1991) however, strongly disagrees. He argues that a question of trust is involved between the photojournalist and her audience and violation of this is by no means a trivial matter. As he puts it: "The photojournalist's main responsibility is to aim to instil true beliefs in the viewers of their pictures. What is more, not all means are acceptable means of instilling these beliefs: the journalist and the photojournalist both have a duty to instil these beliefs by presenting evidence" (207). I am in agreement with Warburton here; trust between the photographer and her audience is crucial, especially if one's aesthetic practice is linked to claims that it is part of an emancipatory endeavour. Though of course the matter of truth cannot be reduced to a question of trust. What ultimately is at stake with regard to truth is the relationship of the photograph to the objective manifold, i.e. the ontological status of the photograph. This can be seen as isomorphic as in correspondence models. For example: Is the photograph of Carlo Giuliani, being shot in Genoa at the anti G8 demonstrations, a photograph of Carlo Giuliani being shot? A more satisfactory approach than the correspondence one is, I believe, to be found within Critical Realist model of truth advanced by Roy Bhaskar in Dialectic: The Pulse of Freedom (1993). Here the question of truth ultimately comes down to the capacity of the photograph to uncover alethia - truth as the reason for things, not merely propositions. Complex as these issues are there is nevertheless a fairly simple moral behind the exposure of Capa's fakery. No matter how impressive the process of faking there is always the possibility that this will be at some time exposed. The subsequent exposure of the violation of trust can be a serious blow to a photographer's professional credibility. A somewhat different position on the relationship between digital technology and photography has recently been advanced by Pedro Meyer in an internet article The Renaissance of Photography (Oct 1 1995). He begins with Camille Silvy's 1858 photograph 'River Scene France'. He reveals that this painting is in fact a composite, or a fake if you wish. Silvy solved the technical problem of photographing clouds and a landscape by photographing them separately and joining them in the development process. Meyer concludes this analysis of Silvy's photograph with an endorsement from the grand daughter of Ansel Adams that he would have welcomed digital photography. The next example, which Meyer considers, is that of the two photographs of the Kent University murders in 1970. The recent publication of the photo in 1995 Life Magazine had the pole behind the student's head airbrushed out. No one knows who did this and the photo was reprinted without the pole many times and the elimination of the pole attracted no notice. As Meyer notes however a debate eventually ensued on the Internet. He cites a Brian Masck as arguing that the pole should not have been airbrushed out. Masck went on to make the claim that if photography is to be believed it must not be touched up. This opinion bore directly upon the normative fiduciary level or trust aspect of truth when Masck says: The photographer therefore has a huge burden of responsibility to maintain the credibility of his images, and the employer (publisher) in turn has a burden or responsibility to the photographer as well as the reader to do the same…Once the SOURCE cannot be believed photojournalism is dead." (n.pag) Meyer responds to this by pointing out that the criterion for truth here is more exact than in writing. In writing we need confirmation from a second source. All that has happened in photography is that we now need confirmation of the photograph. It can no longer stand alone as evidence. So photography for Meyer is now freed from the burden of being evidence and can take its place along side the other arts. He does however still fudge the truth question somewhat in his analogy with writing. The use of digital techniques is compared with proofreading in writing. Thus he writes: All pictures, such as with text, are confirmed from several different sources when in doubt; otherwise it's the photographer's responsibility to deliver an image with integrity towards the events, which in turn will be constantly monitored. We understand that integrity is not a matter of how the picture was made, but what it's supposed to communicate. Just as editors don't oversee if the writers do so by hand or type on a computer, our photographers are free to use any tool they want. The veracity of an image is not dependent on how it was produced, any more than a text is credible because no corrections were done on it. (n.pag) This I think will not do. To begin with it would be quite possible to imagine a set of circumstances in which a written text would have more credibility if it were uncorrected. More seriously the phrase 'integrity towards the events' need clarification. If this means that the photo claims to be a record or semiotic trace of an event then the advent of digital techniques mean that it is impossible to assume such 'integrity'. The evidential nature of photography has been irrevocably challenged. To repeat an earlier point it is important to make a clear distinction between evidence and truth. We must understand here that what has been challenged is our capacity to take the evidential status of a photograph for granted. Nevertheless photographs can still prove a record or a semiotic trace of an event, but we can no longer accept the photograph as proof. Despite what the constructionists would have us believe, the referent still lives! Meyer finishes his article with another interesting comparison between a photograph and a painting by Van Gogh. They may be of the same tree. In the painting the tree is transformed into something wonderful. It glows with a kind of transcendent spirituality. By contrast in the photograph the tree is simply a tree. It does though serve the purpose of alerting us to the contrast between recording reality and transforming it through the imagination. Here Meyer quotes the Mexican poet Veronica Volkow as saying: "With the digital revolution, the photograph breaks its loyalty with what is real, that unique marriage between the arts, only to fall into the infinite temptations of the imagination. It is now more the sister of fantasy and dreams than of presence" (n.pag) If Volkow were correct then photojournalism would indeed seem to be dead. But of course there will always be a place for documentary photography. Artistic expression will improve with digital techniques; that is true. But the photograph's ability to provide a semiotic trace will always be welcomed. However, with the growth and spread of digital photography what will gradually disappear is the naive belief in the transparency of the photograph. Conclusions Interrupting the Flow: Neo Heracliteanism and the Practice of Photography The avant-garde filmmaker, poet and theorist Trinh T. Minh-ha has argued in When The Moon Waxes Red: Presentation, Gender And Cultural Politics (1991) for an extreme irrealist position in documentary by claiming: 'Reality runs away, reality denies reality. Filmmaking is after all a question of "framing" reality in its course' (43). The first part of this quotation gives us the moment of Heraclitus, who argued : "You cannot step twice into the same rivers; for fresh waters are forever flowing in upon you." (Warner 26). However, there is an even more extreme element in Heraclitean thought and that is associated with his student and follower Cratylus, who seemingly claimed that it was impossible to step into the river at all. The flux of life was so thorough that it was impossible to capture. In Plato Etc Roy Bhaskar cites the anecdote by Aristotle, which has it that Cratylus eventually despaired so much of his ability to say anything about reality that he ended up as an elective mute and would merely point (52). It is the Cratylan position that lies behind Trinh T. Minh-ha's statement 'reality denies reality' (43) for if this phrase has any meaning it must be that it is impossible to know the real. Indeed to my mind Trinh T. Minh-ha's theoretical work is much closer to Cratylus than Heraclitus. If however Heraclitus' fragments 41 & 42 suggest unending flux, fragment 81, which says "We step and do not step into the same rivers: we are and are not" (Warner 26). gives us the moment of the intransitive structure which is relatively enduring underneath the flux of actuality. The distinction between the intransitive (i.e. ontological) dimension and the transitive (i.e. narrowly epistemological) dimensions was first advanced by Roy Bhaskar in his Realist Theory of Science (1978). This emphasis on the difference between the intransitive and transitive dimensions helps us to understand that it is the intransitive dimension or the enduring level of ontology or reality that is the domain of the creative photographer. When the photograph gives us access to this level of reality then we are in the presence of what Cartier Bresson has called 'the decisive moment' and the photographer as creator in the sense not of faking or recording but of revealing reality is born. References: Bkaskar, Roy. The Possibilities of Naturalism: A Philosophical Critique of the Contemporary Human Sciences. London: The Harvester Press, 1979. ____________. Scientific Realism & Human Emancipation. London: Verso, 1986. _____________. Dialectic: The Pulse of Freedom. London: Verso, 1993. _______. Plato Etc. London: Verso, 1994. Meyer, P. "The Renaissance of Photography: A keynote address at the SPE Conference Los Angeles, California", Oct 1 1995 < http://zonezero.com/magazine/articles/meyer/01.htm>. Trinh T. Minh-ha. When The Moon Waxes Red: Presentation, Gender And Cultural Politics. New York: Routledge, 1991. Vaughan, Dai. For Documentary. Berkeley: University of California Press 1999. Warburton, Nigel. "Varieties of Photographic Representation: Documentary, Pictorial and Quasi-documentary," History of Photography. 15 (3), 1991: 207. Warner, Rex.. The Greek Philosophers. New York: Mentor, 1958. Watney, Simon. "The Documentary Forum," Creative Camera 254, 1986: 12. Whelan, Richard. Robert Capa. London: Faber, 1985. Winston, Brian . Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited. London: BFI, 1995.

This chapter reconstructs both the use of the Italian version of the Anglican liturgy in the short-lived nineteenth-century Italian congregations established in England to serve the growing number of Italian immigrants and the history of the Italian translations of the Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church of the United States of America. In 1874 and in 1876 the Italian Costantino Stauder published a partial Italian version of the American Prayer Book for the first Italian-speaking Episcopal congregation in New York. The first complete Italian edition was published in Philadelphia in 1904 by Michele Zara, minister of the Italian Episcopal Church of the Emmanuello of that city. His successor, Tommaso Edmondo della Cioppa, published in 1922 a bilingual selection of the Book of Common Prayer.

This chapter explores the dark reception that the Scots received in eighteenth-century England. Scots obtained no new rights of residence by the Act of Union in 1707. Sauny the Scot was the eponymous hero of a doctored version of The Taming of the Shrew that placed Shakespeare's comedy in polite London society. Sauny's function was to protect the gentility and refinement of his master Petruchio. The Man of the World is ultimately a more serious story of a vicious and unprincipled Scotsman on the make. Anglo-Scottish personal unions multiplied after the parliamentary union. Language was perhaps increasingly the prime criterion of full acceptability. Growing awareness of Scotland as a country and a culture did not necessarily decrease prejudice. There is evidence of a marked increase in the flow of Scots into England in the last quarter of the eighteenth century and the first of the nineteenth, as the pace of economic growth south of the border intensified and its extent broadened.

Given both a traditional Sanskrit and an English education in Gujarat, Shyamji Krishnavarma became known in India as a Sanskrit scholar at a young age, and this reputation eventually brought him to England. Yet Krishnavarma was no simple Anglophile: deeply committed to the reformist Hindu Arya Samaj movement, he became a radical voice for anti-colonialism through the pages of his journal The Indian Sociologist (1905-1922), which was published first in London to wide international circulation, before moving to Paris and eventually Geneva to avoid legal repercussions. As this chapter outlines, Krishnavarma scorned the passivity of India’s moderate nationalists in favour of violent opposition to British rule, yet he also avoided the spiritualism and romantic attachment to violence of many of India’s ‘extremist’ leaders. Krishnavarma turned, instead, to the social theory of Herbert Spencer as the inspiration for a cosmopolitan anti-colonialism. In his work, ones sees the uptake of Spencer’s British anti-colonialism for Indian purposes. But far from simply echoing Spencer or British liberalism, Krishnavarma was an active adapter and creator, with a particular goal of putting theoretical conceptions drawn from those sources into political practice.

This chapter traces the career and experiences of Arthur Kenlis Maxwell, 11th Baron Farnham (1879-1957) of county Cavan as a southern loyalist in pre and post-independent Ireland. Up to 1920 he was a prominent representative of southern unionism and his impassioned speeches during the debate on the Government of Ireland bill convey the sense of abandonment and betrayal felt by many southern loyalists. In April 1922 he and his family left Farnham House for England. Unlike many of his peers who made similar journeys, Farnham returned to his ancestral home in 1926 and enjoyed a relatively peaceful and easy transition back into life there. The latter part of the chapter illustrates Farnham’s personal experience of adaptive coexistence and the complexity of southern unionist identities and loyalties in this ‘new’ Ireland. Personal connections made prior to his departure, his interest in agricultural improvement and promotion of various sports in Cavan had meant that he had cultivated a wide and diverse range of friends and networks which he could tap into on return. Although he never formally entered politics in the Irish Free State, Farnham remained an important leadership figure within the Protestant community in Cavan and further afield and symbolically maintained displays of his loyalism attending both the 1937 and 1953 coronations in London.