But like Barnum, Winstanley was no fool, and his desire to build the lighthouse was not exactly disinterested. He had invested his earnings wisely, becoming a merchant as well as a showman, but of the five ships he owned two had been wrecked on the Eddystone. Incensed, he designed a lighthouse, marched to the Admiralty, and persuaded them to let him build it.
It was a forbidding challenge, and it says much for Winstanley's persuasive abilities, not to mention his self-confidence, that the Admiralty agreed to fund him. No lighthouse had ever been built out to sea on an isolated rock before. The Eddystone is hard enough to avoid, but landing on it is a separate challenge entirely. It took eight hours of solid rowing to reach. Its small size would make construction a challenge. Work could only be done at low tide, which was interrupted four times a day by an incoming rush of rising water. And the weather can be terrible.
All this was duly taken into consideration, and Winstanley began his work. What was not taken into consideration was the fact that England and France were having one of their occasional spats, in this case the Nine Years' War. A French privateer arrived just after the foundations were completed. Likely thinking that the English were building a fort, they destroyed all the work that had been done and carted Winstanley off to France.
Remarkably enough, he was not kept there long. On hearing of his capture and of the nature of his work, Louis XIV--hardly remembered as the most tolerant or humanitarian of kings--ordered Winstanley's release. The King's reasoning was simple and easily expressed: “France is at war with England, not humanity”. Possibly no words spoken by Louis ever saved so many lives. Winstanley returned to his task.
Progress was slow on the 20 metre-high wooden structure, but on the 14th of November 1698, Henry Winstanley climbed the steps of his lighthouse to its lantern, where he lit fifty tallow candles that for the first time marked the location of the Eddystone. In Plymouth there was pandemonium: the excitement the news generated was like a mixture of the end of World War II and the moon landing. Hundreds of people rushed to the cliffs, straining their eyes and aiming telescopes to witness the seemingly miraculous sight. Safety seemed promised at last – and it was: while the lighthouse stood, not a single ship was lost to the Eddystone.
Winstanley, however, missed the excitement. Rather than joining in the party, he and his crew almost starved to death as the weather left them marooned in the lighthouse for a full five weeks.
But a wooden lighthouse soon proved not to be resistant enough, and twenty metres were revealed to be too few: in storms the waves would crash over the very top of Winstanley's building. However impressed they may have been by the feat of building it, sceptics doubted that the lighthouse could last. Winstanley had no intention of letting his masterpiece collapse, and when the wear-and-tear grew too great he set about repairing it, though it was more like rebuilding it from scratch. Historians are divided on whether to consider Winstanley the builder of one lighthouse on the rock or two.
Whichever it was, the new lighthouse added 12 metres to the original height and was far stronger, twelve-sided and girded in steel and stone. Not merely functional but decorative as well, the lighthouse is revealed in contemporary drawings to have been an ornate and colourful sight, with a large weather-vane on top of the lantern. Inside, Winstanley even built a large stateroom for guests. With the repairs or rebuilding finished in spring 1699, Winstanley was satisfied. Ships approaching Plymouth were safe at last.
There were still sceptics, though, who insisted it was impossible that the lighthouse should endure. Winstanley was so secure that he let out his celebrated sally that he wished “to be in the lighthouse during the greatest storm that ever was”. Perhaps it was a silly sally. Still, his creation stood tall despite all that the waves could throw at it. How many storms broke on its walls is unknown, but though wear and tear had to be expected the structure was sound. Ships no longer fell into the Eddystone's trap. But while the lighthouse weathered water and waves, there came a day to test whether it could withstand the wind. And Winstanley found himself at the epicentre, his boast called.
On 25 November 1703, despite a severe gale warning, Winstanley insisted on going out to the lighthouse again along with five men to carry out some necessary repairs. On the 26th, England was hit by an event still known as “The Great Storm”, even today the benchmark by which all storms in England are measured.
It was the worst tempest ever recorded on English soil, a hurricane that caused damage more extensive than had ever been faced. Over 4000 oak trees were uprooted in the New Forest; Queen Anne stood at a window of her palace watching the trees of St. James Park be torn up before she was forced to shelter in a cellar as her chimneys collapsed and the roof fell in. The roof of Westminster Abbey was torn off by the wind, cathedrals and churches across the southern coast were ruined. 2000 chimney-stacks were blown down in London alone; the damage to that city was half again as much as that caused by the great fire of 1666. Roofs had all their tiles ripped off. Humans and animals were lifted into the air by the force of the gale. Windmills were blown about at such speed that the friction set them on fire. Livestock drowned by the thousands.
The storm wreaked havoc on ships, forcing 700 ships together in the Thames. Wrecks pressed against London Bridge, damming it and causing the waters to rise. Along the coast, one vessel was later found fifteen miles inland. The Royal Navy suffered especially: a fleet returning from action in the War of Spanish Succession arrived in the storm's path, and a full 13 ships were lost. Over 40 merchantmen went down, and between 500 and 700 ships suffered severe damage.
The human cost was horrendous. Despite the fact that there was little rain reported, hundreds drowned in wind-carried waters and the North Sea surge, or died in the wreckage as the gale had an earthquake-like effect on the masonry and architecture of the isle. The Bishop of Wells and his wife were asleep in bed when the chimney fell on them. Over 1500 seamen of the Royal Navy died, not counting those in the merchant fleet. Tallies of the dead range between 8000 and 15000 lost.
Unprecedented and unrepeated, the storm was widely seen as an expression of the wrath of God, who was assumed to be infuriated at continued toleration of those evil, evil Catholics. The government agreed, declaring a national day of fasting and prayer on the 19th January following. Daniel Defoe was another who shared this popular view. Well before Robinson Crusoe or Moll Flanders, he took the storm as the subject of his first book, in which he opined that the Royal Navy's losses were a just reward for its poor performance in the war. Though he found this particular act of God justified, though, he still thought the tempest indescribable, something beyond comprehension for those who had not experienced it.
When the world had calmed down and ships were again able to safely sail, those passing by the Eddystone found themselves again in danger. The reef held no crew, no Winstanley – and no lighthouse. The entire structure had been washed away. Only a few twisted pieces of metal remained to show that anything had ever been there. Winstanley's wish to test his lighthouse had come true, and the building had failed.
But it had taken the greatest storm in history to wash away the lighthouse; Winstanley had proven that it was possible to save the ships approaching Plymouth--though luckily, in the immediate aftermath of the storm there weren't many of those to be at risk. The economical benefits of the beacon were so clear that in spite of the skeptics a new lighthouse was soon built, designed by John Rudyard and completed by 1709. It stood for almost fifty years before it caught fire and burnt down. It was replaced by a tower designed by John Smeaton that was a major advance in lighthouse technology, though it was merely functional and lacked all of Winstanley's flair. It lasted until 1877, where the erosion of the rock endangered it. It was dismantled and rebuilt in Plymouth as a tribute to Smeaton's genius, while a new lighthouse was built on an adjoining rock, where it still stands, a 51-metre high tower whose light can be seen for 24 miles. On the rock by its side is the remaining base of Smeaton's tower. But of Winstanley's ma
sterpiece there is not a sign.
Originally published 04 September 2012
http://dam.mn/night-takes-rook/
Feral Children (1724 AD)
"Monkey boys," "wolf girls," "gazelle boys," and even an "ostrich boy;" they are all part of the lore of the feral children. Also known as "wild children," these are children who have grown up with little or no human contact, and they are therefore unaware of human social behavior or language. Some are thought to have been raised by animals, some have reportedly fended for themselves in the wild, and others are victims of abuse, having grown up in the forced isolation of cages or basements.
Being skeptical by nature, I usually find such claims too incredible to be true, but there is a considerable amount of evidence and history available about feral children. While many of the historical cases are unreliable or completely fictitious, other records of feral children defy a simple explanation and are hard to ignore.
From 1724 there are records describing a naked, brownish, black-haired boy who was found running up and down in the fields of the German town of Hamelin. The "creature" was enticed into town, and once there immediately became a subject of great interest. He behaved like a trapped wild animal, eating birds and vegetables raw, and when threatened, he sat on his haunches or on all fours looking for opportunities to escape. The boy was given the name "Peter" and was soon made the possession of King George I of England, where he lived the rest of his life. During his life Peter never learned to talk, showed a complete indifference to money or sex, and was never seen laughing. However he loved music, and he was able to learn a number of menial tasks before he died in 1785.
Another example is a boy named Victor who was discovered foraging for roots and acorns in the woods near Aveyron, France in 1799. He appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old, but he didn't speak. He was taken to Paris, where he resembled a human only in appearance. Victor behaved like an animal, he ate rotten food with pleasure, he was incapable of distinguishing hot from cold, and he spent much of his time rocking back and forth like a caged animal. He was taken into the care of the brilliant scientist Dr Jean-Marc-Gaspard Itard, who dedicated himself to the education of the boy. Victor proved to be a very difficult subject. Over the years, he only learned two terms, "lait," and "oh dieu." His sense of touch seemed to be far more important than his sense of sight, and he did not demonstrate an ability to distinguish right from wrong. Like Peter before him, he was indifferent to sex, and he did learn some menial tasks, such as setting a table. Victor lived the rest of his life in the care of his housekeeper, and died in 1828 at the age of forty.
One of the more mysterious cases is that of Kaspar Hauser, who was discovered in Nuremberg, Germany in 1828. He was unsteady on his feet, held a letter for a man he had never met, and only spoke the phrase "I want to be a horseman like my father is." The letter was addressed to the captain of the 4th squadron of the 6th cavalry regiment:
Honored Captain,
I send you a lad who wishes to serve his king in the Army. He was brought to me on October 7th, 1812. I am but a poor laborer with children of my own to rear. His mother asked me to bring up the boy, and so I thought I would rear him as my own son. Since then, I have never let him go one step outside the house, so no one knows where he was reared. He, himself, does not know the name of the place or where it is.You may question him, Honoured Captain, but he will not be able to tell you where I live. I brought him out at night. He cannot find his way back. He has not a penny, for I have nothing myself. If you do not keep him, you must strike him dead or hang him.
Kaspar was about sixteen years old, but he behaved like a small child. At first, when a mirror was handed to him he would look behind it trying to find the person behind the mirror, and he burned his hand while touching a candle's flame in curiosity. Kaspar had excellent night vision and a keen sense of smell. He detested meat and alcohol, and was offended by the smell of flowers. Unlike many of the other cases described here, Kaspar did learn much over time, eventually learning to speak enough to describe the small cage in which he had been raised, and the mysterious keeper who finally released him outside of town. But about five years after appearing from nowhere, Kaspar was assassinated. The reason for his murder might be because some believed he was the missing heir to the throne of Baden. His assassin lured him away under the pretense that they would reveal who his parents were, and stabbed him fatally in the chest. The mystery of his early life and violent death has never been satisfactorily answered.
Some feral children have been discovered in more recent history. In a modern version of the Romulus and Remus legend, two young girls were said to have been discovered under the care of a she-wolf in Godamuri, India in 1920. The girls were taken to an orphanage in Midnapore (now part of Orissa). The children, Kamala, aged eight and Amala, aged eighteen months, behaved exactly like small wild animals. They slept during the day and woke by night. They remained on all fours, enjoyed raw meat, and were given to biting and attacking other children if provoked. They could smell raw meat from a distance, and they had an acute sense of sight and hearing. The youngest child, Amala, died one year later, but Kamala lived for nine years in the orphanage until she died of illness at the age of seventeen Kamala did eventually acquire a small vocabulary, but she remained very different from other children until the time of her death.
Perhaps the saddest example of a feral child is a girl named Genie. On November 4, 1970 she was brought into a welfare office in California by her mother, who claimed that she and her daughter were victims of abuse from the woman's husband. Genie appeared to be about six of seven years old, but when the social worker learned that Genie was actually thirteen years old, she contacted the police. It was soon revealed that Genie had been locked away in a room alone for over ten years. She had been tied to a potty-chair and left to sit alone day after day. At night, she was tied into a sleeping bag which restrained her arms, and placed in an over-sized crib with a cover made of metal screening. Often she was forgotten, and had to spend the night tied to the potty chair.
At first, people could hardly believe that Genie was thirteen years old; she weighed only 59 pounds and was 54 inches tall. While she seemed to understand a few words, the only words she could say were "stop it" and "no more." She had a strange bunny-like walk, possibly due to malformed limbs. She held her hands up in front of her like paws and moved in a halting way. She could not chew solid food and could hardly swallow. She spat and sniffed constantly. She was not toilet-trained and could not focus her eyes beyond 12 feet.
A team of scientists known as "the Genie Team" began began working with Genie in a controversial multi-year research project. Some people felt that the experiments took away any chance for Genie to have a normal life, but the researchers made efforts to give Genie positive social contact by making her part of the head researcher's family, taking her on outings, and letting her see the world. Because Genie proved incapable of learning language beyond very simple sentences, scientists at first thought she might be mentally handicapped; but she proved to be quite intelligent, scoring perfectly on an adult-level test that measured spatial abilities, and scoring the highest recorded results ever on tests that measure a person's ability to make sense out of chaos and to see patterns. Research stopped after the scientists lost their funding, and Genie was moved to a series of foster homes. Today she lives anonymously in an assisted living facility somewhere in Southern California.
Despite the controversy surrounding the study of children like Genie, such research has led to breakthroughs in the education of people with learning disabilities and alternative language skills like sign language and Braille. Feral child research has also helped in developing theories about the evolution of language. Feral children also create many insights about who we are as human beings. They bring us closer to knowing what aspects of human behavior are genetic and what parts are learned. Feral children show us the importance of both our nature and the nurturing influence of other humans. The
se children and their struggles bring us the fragmented and haunting story that we are viewing the savage image of ourselves.
Originally published 15 May 2006
http://dam.mn/feral-children/
The Doctors' Mob Riot (1788 AD)
A young boy peered into the dissection room at New York Hospital in post-colonial Manhattan only to see medical student John Hicks, Jr. pick up a corpse's arm and wave it at him. Hicks then shouted, "This is your mother's hand. I just dug it up. Watch it or I'll smack you with it!" The frightened boy ran into the April night believing every word the student had said because his mother had died a few days before.
The father, upon hearing the story, gathered some friends and headed toward the local cemetery and his wife's burial plot. They found the grave open and empty. The hole hadn't even been refilled and the coffin had been pried apart. Word soon spread through lower Manhattan and hundreds were storming the hospital.
It was the beginning of America's first riot – The Doctors' Mob Riot of 1788.
The perpetrators of the grave robbing were a group known as "resurrectionists" and their purpose was to get cadavers for medical instruction. Medical students and anatomy teachers of that time were frequently involved in grave robbing for this purpose. Resurrectionists preferred to rob the graves of the poor and homeless but had no problem with desecrating any unguarded plot if demand was great enough. The problem was so great in New York that wealthy families would pay a shotgun-wielding watchman to stand guard over a new burial for two weeks, after which time the body would become useless for dissection.
Unsettling May Have Occurred: Occasionally Uncomfortable Obscure True Stories from Human History Page 2