I 're-tweeted' this link earlier today (no mean feat for a nineteenth century chap, I can assure you), but felt it was well worth posting on the blog so that like-minded souls could find it more easily.
The National Library of Scotland's map department has taken some high-res scans of the London Ordnance Survey maps 1893-6 (over 500 maps, in fact), stitched them all together and superimposed them onto modern digital maps. If you like maps, and like history, you'll love this!
http://mappinglondon.co.uk/2013/victorian-london-in-incredible-detail/
It can be a little tricky to navigate via the article, so the direct link is here.
What you end up with a searchable map of London in the mid 1890s, with functionality very similar to Google maps. A bit like this:
Which is rather marvellous for people like me who love maps!
For now, enjoy exploring Victorian London. I'm going back in! (I wonder when they'll do the time-travelling Streetview version...?)
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Thursday, 19 September 2013
From the pages of Punch, or the London Chiavari, November 1871
DARWINIAN
SPIRITUALISM.
SIR, MR.
PUNCH,
THE Report
of the Dialectical Society on Spiritualism has been derided by many critics and
others, who either believe, or at least seriously entertain, MR. DARWIN 'S theory of the Descent
of Man. The Darwinists, indeed, generally despise the Spiritualists.
I, who
am both a Spiritualist and a Darwinist, see no reason at all why they should. On
the contrary, I see very much reason why they should not. Darwinism and Spiritualism,
Sir, rightly regarded, illustrate and confirm each other. Darwinists, who hold the
derivation of mankind from the Marine
Ascidian, intermediately through the Anthropoid Apes, argue that if, as
asserted by Spiritualists,
disembodied human spirits exist, disembodied simious spirits should also exist.
There ought to be spirits of apes and monkeys. Well, I say, so there are. The undignified
and absurd nature of some spiritual communications is often alleged as proving their
unreality. These communications proceed from the spirits of deceased apes.
Messages
are often received at "circles" purporting to come from BACON,
FRANKLIN, BYRON, or some other departed personage of genius or intellect, which
they are far from being examples of, being, on the contrary, nonsense or twaddle.
In these cases the spirit of an Orang-outang, Chimpanzee, Gorilla, or some other
description of jackanapes, actuated by the imitative instinct characteristic of
the monkey tribes, personates the poet, philosopher, or man of science, and
mimics his utterances with imperfection corresponding to that which we see exhibited,
in playing the part of humanity, by a performing monkey. The Ape-spirit
imitates human speech, being in a state of Darwinian development, which is as possible
for a monkey in the spheres as in this world. The levitation of MR. HOME and others,
the transference of that gentleman in and out of a drawing-room window seventy feet
from the ground, the transportation of Mediums through the air and the walls or
ceiling of a room, the dancing of tables, the picking of pockets, and all the rest
of the ludicrous incidents common at stances, are the monkeys' tricks of
tricksy spirits, the spirits of monkeys.
Having
said thus much, Sir, shall I be asked to prove it? Not by you. You are up to the
philosophy of the times. Proof, you know, is now an anachronism in science. We are
to accept MR. DARWIN'S theory, provisionally, because it is the best we have to
account for facts. Mine, I am sure, has an equal claim to acceptance. It is the
best out, and it squares with his. The Descent of Man is no reason against his Destiny,
and his Destiny does not disprove his Descent; on the contrary is, as I have asserted,
that is, shown, associated with evidences which prove it. Therefore don't tell me
that I am an ass, and that Darwinism and Spiritualism, respectively, are but opposite
poles of scientific and superstitious credulity. Write me down whatever you
may, I subscribe myself
Yours
truly,
PYTHAGORAS
PUGS.
P.S. Of
course there are also spirits of Marine Ascidians. Why not? Did not BLAKE (till
lately pictor ignotus) once actually
paint from life (spirit-life) the Ghost of a Flea?
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged
A short and quite impromptu blog today, featuring another departure from the realms of horror and Victoriana. As part of their build-up to the Space Marines release, today sees the release of my latest short story for the Black Library, a 1,000-word slice of Warhammer 40,000 goodness.
Entitled 'Judgement', this story was penned when I was still part of Games Workshop's studio team, and is the missing link of the story of the Doom Legion, a minor Codex chapter of the galaxy's favourite warriors. For those in the know, the Doom Legion feature in both the Space Marines codex, and Codex: Chaos Space Marines – but why? Many eagle-eyed fans have been asking that question since the release of the Chaos Space Marines book. This is the tale of how half of the chapter turned to darkness, and how the other half cope with the eternal shame of their heresy.
Although Warhammer 40,000 fiction is almost in a former life for me, it still remains close to my heart, and you'll be seeing more in the future. The grim, dark future.
You can buy Judgement here in ebook format.
Entitled 'Judgement', this story was penned when I was still part of Games Workshop's studio team, and is the missing link of the story of the Doom Legion, a minor Codex chapter of the galaxy's favourite warriors. For those in the know, the Doom Legion feature in both the Space Marines codex, and Codex: Chaos Space Marines – but why? Many eagle-eyed fans have been asking that question since the release of the Chaos Space Marines book. This is the tale of how half of the chapter turned to darkness, and how the other half cope with the eternal shame of their heresy.
Although Warhammer 40,000 fiction is almost in a former life for me, it still remains close to my heart, and you'll be seeing more in the future. The grim, dark future.
You can buy Judgement here in ebook format.
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
Dial M for MacGuffin
Today (August 13th) sees the birthday of Alfred
Hitchcock, the twentieth century’s Master of Suspense. He was, however, born in
the nineteenth century, and this makes him fair fodder for this blog.
From Biography.com: Born in London
on August 13, 1899, Alfred Hitchcock worked for a short time in engineering
before entering the film industry in 1920. He left for Hollywood in 1939, where his first American
film, Rebecca, won an Academy Award for best picture. Hitchcock
created more than 50 films, including the classics Rear
Window, The 39 Steps and Psycho. Nicknamed the "Master of
Suspense," Hitchcock received the AFI's Life Achievement Award in 1979. He
died in 1980.
Speaking of that award, the master of suspense proved that
he was also the master of speeches when picking it up:
It’s worth a blog post just to commemorate the life and
works of this great man, largely because he’s responsible for so many of the
things that have shaped my love of mystery and suspense over the years. As a
young child I read Robert Arthur’s ‘TheThree Investigators’ series over and over, and when I was old enough to
watch the real deal I started with The
Birds. This film probably, more than any other, instilled in me a love of
film-making beyond the popcorn summer blockbusters that most kids my age
preferred. I was even a fan of the rather odd 80s revival of ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents’ on TV. I was probably too young
to watch a horror anthology series at that time, but that show (along with Tales of the Unexpected and Hammer House of Horror) kindled my
life-long love of horror and suspense.
Today, I’d place Vertigo in my top three movies of all time,
with The Birds, Rear Window and Psycho all taking a place in the top
ten. Hitchcock was a master of the art of storytelling through cinema, and his
suspenseful plots and artful direction put him right up there with Wilkie
Collins, Raymond Chandler and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in my eyes.
So, without further ado, I raise my glass to Alfred
Hitchcock; 114 years old today, and still the master of suspense. Happy
birthday, old chap.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)



