Cliff House

Cliff House, San Francisco California, circa 1900

Science and Beauty: Victorian microscope slides

The beginning of the 19th century, saw significant advances in the study of the natural sciences as well as the burgeoning of the middle class during the Victorian era.  This new social class had some extra money to spend and leisure time and some sought to put together their own cabinets of curiosities. Now collecting specimens and conducting research was no longer a pursuit attainable only to the leisure classes. Going on excursions to collect specimens and putting together their own slides became a popular pastime for many people.

From The Illustrated London News, 1855

Some of these amateur naturalists added microscopes to their collections, as more affordable versions of the instrument were now being made with the development of industry.  Looking at slides was not only appealing to those interested in the natural world, but was also seen as a source of entertainment to both men and women, just like other pass times which became available to the middle class such as playing the piano.  

Advertisement in the Quarterly Journal of Science, 1875

The beauty of the slides is conveyed by both the slides themselves as well as the mounts. Mounts for the slides were decorated with coloured papers and ornate designs. The specimens found within the slides could come from back gardens or from around the world, the concept of "the exotic" being very much in vogue at the time. Some individuals, seeing the popularity of microscope slides, rose to the occasion and began producing slides for sale.

Below are some examples of sought after microscope slides made and collected by Victorians, as seen on the superb website www.victorianmicroscopeslides.com. I can really see why these slides are still sought after by collectors.  

The specimens below are shown as they appear under the microscope and are made with various materials such as scales or shell. These are beautiful examples of the appeal of viewing specimen slides for their colourful beauty.

It's spectacular how the natural world never ceases to inspire a sense of delight and wonder. 

What a beautifully human experience.

Stories Told

 

Earlier this week a few coworkers of mine began exchanging ghost stories.  One coworker recounted how her aunt’s cottage was haunted by a previous owner.  People see an elderly man through the windows of the house when it is supposed to be vacant. There are disembodied footsteps on the stairs. Taps are turned on and off at random. Another coworker shared that her sister’s house had previously belonged to the sister’s parents in law.  The house is surrounded by miles of prairie and is an old, yet still beautiful, yellow brick farmhouse. It is known within the family to be a creepy place during a full moon.  When the young couple purchased the house from their elders the sister’s mother in law (who had lived in that farmhouse the whole of her married life) said in a soft, girlish voice, and wry smile, “Oh, it’s a full moon tonight. The gremlins will be out.” Pets raise their hackles and bare pointed teeth to vacant hallways. Hard soled shoes walk across the wooden floors.  The sounds of people talking are hear behind the door leading to the attic. I scoffed at these stories but leaned in closer and kept listening. It wasn’t yet noon and yet I felt chills on the back of my neck. 

It should be mentioned that I don’t believe in ghosts.  I believe in the power of perception and of the human imagination. I believe in the power of a good story and of the magic (or if I should provide a word which carries less of a supernatural connotation, perhaps "captivation"?) between a story teller and their audience.  Having now shared my beliefs, I know that had I been listening to these stories in a darkened wood near a campfire I am sure my empirical resolve would not shield me from the thrilling power of these tales. 

The moments I spent listening to my coworkers and their creepy tales inspired me to think of the seemingly universal appreciation of an eerie narrative. I thought of those huddled in a longhouse ages ago, who shivered as a bard spoke with a thunderous voice and great gestures of the monstrous Grendel  who wandered the misty moors. I thought of Victorians sitting in overstuffed flower-patterned chairs holding crystal glasses of port round a crackling fireplace on a wintry eve and exchanged stories in hushed, resolved tones of floating grey ladies, mysteriously locked rooms, and draughty castles. For a good story (no matter what we believe) we can let ourselves be carried along for a time in the waves of the tale, for our hair to raise, and to watch for moving shadows in the corner of our eye.  Seemingly, it something we have shared in common through the ages.

'Oh, Whistle, and I`ll Come to You, My Lad'

I have a love for English ghost stories, particularly those stemming from the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Many of today's attempts at horror include gore and sensational storylines. I prefer the quite murmurs of fear Susan Hill inspires in readers in her book The Woman In Black. I am, as I have previously confessed, also a lover of books. When I walk into a second hand or used book store, I feel as though I am embarking on an adventure. What marvels shall I encounter? That said, I was in a used bookstore in London, Ontario a few years ago and picked up a copy of M.R. James' Collected Ghost Stories. It is a modern edition, though I love it just the same. I had never heard of this author before, but because this book had been published by the same publishers as another collection of works I enjoy, I purchased the book. The story 'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad' was the first story I read, and I made the mistake of reading the story late at night.

M.R. James (1862-1936) was a medievalist and provost of King's College Cambridge. Allegedly, he identified himself very much with the Victorian age, and did not like ways in which the 'modern' world was progressing. James never married; the academic world was his home and sanctuary. Most of his stories reflect these details about his life. His stories are cast in dusty academic settings, where the antiquarian and university professor are the heroes (or victims). The past is a mysterious entity, which, if pushed and prodded too vigorously by the curious, can retaliate and reveal its lessons with terrifying severity.

James wrote his ghost stories to entertain a select group of friends and fellow scholars at Cambridge at Christmastime. This is why I felt it appropriate to share the stories of M.R. James with you in early December, so that you may also take part in the Victorian tradition of sharing ghost stories at Christmas.

The BBC has some very good television productions of several of his stories as part of their 'Ghost Stories for Christmas' series. A View from a Hill (2005) is a good place to start, as is 'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad' (1968).

The University of Adelaide, a most useful website, has posted the collected works of M.R. James online here.

For a more complete observation of the life and works of M.R. James, as well as details of film, radio and theater productions of his stories, the site 'A Thin Ghost' is a good place to start.

Images, 1, 2, 3, 4,