Tennis: the Early Years, 1874-1930s.

(Image above) "Lawn Tennis" by Louis Prang, 1887.

Lawn tennis evolved from a much older medieval game. Real tennis, as it is usually called nowadays, is played in indoor courts with walls the balls can be hit off of.[1] Originally, the balls were hit with the hand, first bare, then gloved. This gave it its French name, jeu de paume. Rackets replaced hands in the 16^th century and sore hands gave way to sore elbows.

Real tennis was widely played in the “courts” of Europe, and it is still played in the UK and a few other countries. Several real tennis courts survive at Oxford, Cambridge, Hampton Court Palace and Falkland Palace in Scotland. Henry VIII and Mary Queen of Scots both loved the game. Legend has it that Henry was playing it at Hampton Court while Anne Boleyn was being executed. The image below is of the real tennis court at Falkland Palace in Fife, Scotland.

Real tennis probably originated in France, and it was in the royal tennis court at Versailles that one of the most pivotal events of the French Revolution occurred. When an angry Louis XVI ordered them locked out of their chamber during the meeting of the Estates-General in June 1789, representatives of the Third Estate moved to the nearby royal tennis court and took an oath not to disband until they had produced a constitution. The “Tennis Court Oath” was the effective beginning of the revolution. [Image: Jacques David, “The Oath of the Tennis Court” c. 1794]

The man often credited with inventing lawn tennis was an Englishman, Major Walter Clopton Wingfield, but others in the UK and America had a hand in its creation. The first lawn tennis club opened in Leamington Spa in 1874. Wingfield patented an hourglass-shaped court and published a book of rules for lawn tennis in the same year. In 1875, the Marylebone Cricket Club drew up a slightly different set of rules which, with some changes, govern the sport today. Wingfield’s odd-shaped court did not catch on, either, being replaced by the rectangular court we know today. [Image: Wingfield’s hourglass court and his book of rules.]

One of the hourglass courts survives at the house of scientist Charles Darwin, at Down in Kent.  

1875 proved an important year for lawn tennis in another way. A croquet club in Wimbledon, England, adopted lawn tennis as a second sport, setting aside one lawn for the new game. The Croquet Club  was founded by “six gentlemen” in 1868. The Wimbledon club held its first gentlemen’s singles championship in 1877 to raise funds. At the same time, it changed its name to the All England Croquet and Lawn Tennis Club. The first “Wimbledon” champion, Spencer Gore, was nonchalant about it all. “Lawn tennis,” he said, “will never rank among our great games.” 

Great or not, the game soon became fashionable among the leisured and moneyed classes. Companies began to advertise equipment and outfits for playing tennis. As the ad below shows, the outfitters borrowed some fashions from existing sports such as boating, golf, and cricket. 

Despite the emphasis here on male attire, ladies also quickly took up the game. Playing tennis in long skirts on top of layers of petticoats, bustles, corsets, long drawers and stockings must have been a major challenge.

During the 1880s, lawn tennis had become the main focus of Wimbledon’s AELTC. In 1882, its members voted to drop “croquet” from the club’s name. In 1884, the Wimbledon club added ladies’ singles and gentlemen’s doubles championships. In 1913, the AELTC added ladies’ doubles and mixed doubles. International competition began in these early years. The US Open began in 1881, the French Open (now Roland Garros) in 1891, and the Australian Open in 1905. The Davis Cup, originally called The International Lawn Tennis Challenge, began in the late 1890's. The image below shows an International  Challenge match in Melbourne in 1912.

Lawn tennis might have really taken off at that point, if it hadn’t been for the outbreak of The Great War in 1914. For the next four years, many tennis countries were preoccupied by the military struggle. Amidst the appalling carnage, tennis competitions were halted.

On a less grim note, the war helped to change fashions, particularly for women. Petticoats, bustle and corset gave way to simpler, more comfortable modes of dress, using much less fabric, which was needed for military uniforms. The new fashion trends passed into women’s tennis attire. The French phenomenon Suzanne Lenglen paved the way at Wimbledon in the 1920s in a daring, some thought scandalous, outfit exposing her arms and a bit of thigh. 

Women were quicker to adopt a new style of attire than men. Most of them continued to play in long trousers into the 1930s and beyond. In 1933, the UK's Bunny Austin became the first male player to appear on Wimbledon Centre Court in shorts, shocking at least some observers of the game.  [Valerie Warren, Tennis Fashions: Over 125 Years of Costume Change (Wimbledon, 2002]

By the 1930's, lawn tennis had matured as a game and produced superlative athletes. It was no longer played only on lawns but was yet to produce mega incomes for the top players.  

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[1] The word “real” seems to imply that lawn tennis is artificial, but likely derives from the Spanish and Portuguese word for royal, “real.” It is often called "royal tennis" in the UK.

The First Woman Doctors: Elizabeth Blackwell and her Circle

Women have always been involved in health care, as domestic healers and midwives. In the 19th century, they began a quest to gain qualification as professional physicians and surgeons. 

The first to succeed in that aim was Elizabeth Blackwell, born in England in 1821. Her family emigrated to the United States a few years later. As a young woman, she determined to become a physician. 

Her family was supportive, but not wealthy. To earn tuition money, she taught school. That took her to the South, first to Kentucky, where she saw slavery at first hand, and became a committed abolitionist. 

In the mid-1840's, she taught in a school run by Rev. John Dickson in Asheville, North Carolina. A former physician, he approved of her medical goal and let her use his medical library. In 1846, however, the school closed down.

Blackwell moved to Charleston, South Carolina, and taught in a local boarding school. She lived in the house of Rev. Dickson's brother. Dr. Samuel H. Dickson, professor of medicine at the Medical College of South Carolina. 

With Dickson's help and encouragement, Blackwell applied to several American medical colleges. But she was rebuffed at every turn due to her gender. She persisted and in 1847, was accepted at Geneva College in Geneva, New York (now Hobart College). 

The condition of her acceptance was unusual, to say the least. All the currently enrolled male students, about 150, had to agree. They did. She received her MD in 1849. She later furthered her studies in Paris and London hospitals, particularly in obstetrics. 

Back in the US, Blackwell struggled to establish a medical practice, despite her excellent training. In the 1850's, she and her sister Emily founded the New York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children. Emily herself was the third woman to get an MD in the US. In this endeavor they were assisted by Dr. Marie Zakrzewski, a young Polish immigrant Blackwell had mentored. (Above; Emily Blackwell, below: Marie Zakrzewski)

   

The Blackwell sisters aided the Union war effort in the Civil War, helping to train nurses, though their efforts were often stymied by the male-dominated Sanitary Commission.

Blackwell returned to her native Britain several times in the late 1850's to establish an infirmary there. Although that did not succeed, she did become the first woman listed on the British General Medical Register, in 1859. She also mentored Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, the first woman to earn an MD in France, the first woman dean of a medical school, and co-founder of the first hospital staffed by women.

In 1869, after sharp disagreements with Emily, Elizabeth settled permanently in the UK. In 1874, she founded a women's medical college in London with Sophia Jex-Blake, who she had helped train. The two did not ultimately get along, clashing over goals and management.

Blackwell retired from medical practice in 1877. She subsequently devoted herself to a broad array of moral and social reform causes. These included anti-vivisection, anti-vaccination, sanitation, Christian Socialism, women's rights, sexual hygiene, and eugenics. Her stances on some of these issues were often at variance with advances in medical and scientific knowledge, and led to conflict with other early women doctors. (Image: Blackwell in later years)

One of them was Mary (Putnam) Jacobi, the first American woman to earn an MD in Paris, in 1870. Jacobi rejected Blackwell's view that medicine was foremost a moral calling. Jacobi argued that its primary objective was to cure the sick and advance medical science. She also disagreed with Blackwell's contention that women should concentrate on medical specialties like obstetrics and pediatrics. In these areas, Blackwell claimed, their "female" qualities would give them an advantage over men. Jacobi argued that women should enter all fields of medicine on an equal footing with men.

Despite her disagreements with her fellow pioneering women, Blackwell's persistence and dedication was an inspiration to women aspiring to medical careers. By the late 19th century, hundreds of women had qualified to practice medicine. Thousands and then millions more would soon follow. In 1974, the US government honored Blackwell by issuing a stamp bearing her portrait.

Further Reading: Thomas Neville Bonner, To the Ends of the Earth: Women's Search for Education in Medicine (1992)

The Wicked Wit of Winston Churchill; or Somebody Else

Winston Churchill was famous, often infamous, for his biting, pithy wit. Historians and biographers may disagree as to exactly what he said to whom, or even if he said or originated certain lines attributed to him. There is little doubt, however, that he had a way -- often his way -- with words.

The recipients, or alleged recipients, of his wit were often his fellow politicians and fellow upper class folks. But they included all sectors of society. Even the voters, of whom he said (perhaps), "The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter."

That line jars uneasily (or does it?) with another of his famous statements about democracy, that it was "the worst form of government except for all those others that have been tried." But did he really say that? Inquiring minds disagree.

One of his most famous quotations was directed against a woman he disliked, Tory MP Lady Nancy Astor. She had said to him at a social gathering, "Winston, if you were my husband, I would put poison in your coffee." He reputedly replied, "My dear, if you were my wife, I would drink it." Did he really say that? Churchill biographer and Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson says no. But Johnson also said that Brexit would provide an extra £350 million a week for the NHS. (below: Lady Astor)

Deserved or not, Churchill had a reputation for indulging in large quantities of strong drink. One day in 1946, when he was leaving Parliament, he was accosted by Lady Astor or Labour MP Bessie Braddock (depending on which version you read). The woman in question accused him of being disgustingly drunk. "Yes," he shot back, "but you are ugly, and I shall be sober in the morning." (Below: Bessie Braddock)

He once explained his relationship with liquor as follows: "I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me."   

If the date of the ugly-sober quip, 1946, is correct, Churchill had reason to be in a foul mood. The previous year, the voters had kicked him out of office after he had led the country through World War II, by giving the Labour Party the reins of government. 

His replacement as Prime Minister, was Clement Attlee. Churchill famously called Attlee "a modest man, who has lots to be modest about." Did Churchill also originate the lines, "an empty car drove up, and Clement Attlee got out," and "He is a sheep in sheep's clothing."? Well.... (Below: Attlee)

The following story of an exchange between Churchill and Attlee is almost surely apocryphal, but sounds like something Winnie might well have said at the time. It was during the late 1940's, when Labour was nationalizing many large industries. 

One day, Churchill walked into the gents' toilet at the House of Commons to find Attlee already busy at one of the urinals. Churchill grunted and walked to the urinal farthest away from Attlee. "Winston," Attlee remarked, "why are you being so unsociable?" "Clement," Churchill replied, "I'm not being unsociable. It's just that every time you see some thing big, you want to nationalize it."

Churchill was hardly kinder to his Conservative colleague and former boss, Stanley Baldwin, Prime Minister for much of the 1920's and 30's. Once friends, during the 30's they fell out and Baldwin removed Churchill from the cabinet. When someone asked Churchill why he hadn't sent Baldwin a card on his 80th birthday, he allegedly retorted, "I wish Stanley no ill, but it would have been much better if he had never lived." That's believable enough. (Baldwin, below, died a few months later.)

Churchill often criticized himself, but could combine self-criticism with arrogance in a humorous way, as the following: "I have often had to eat my own words, but I must confess I have always found it a wholesome diet."

Churchill wrote a lot of history and it was generally complimentary, to him. But he warned us about it, humorously, of course: "History will be kind to me, because I intend to write it." 

I think that is accurate. 

    

London's Georgian Hospitals

During the Georgian period (1714-1830) London witnessed a great expansion of hospital facilities. This article examines a few of the more famous, some of which continue to operate today, though sometimes in different locations and with greatly expanded functions. 

In 1721 Thomas Guy, who had made a fortune in the South Sea Bubble, founded Guy's Hospital in Southwark, near London Bridge. He established it to care for "incurables" discharged from nearby much older St. Thomas' Hospital , of which he was a governor. 

The St. Thomas governors supported Guy's project by granting him the south side of St. Thomas' Street at a tiny rent for 999 years. St. Thomas' moved from the area to Lambeth, south of Westminster Bridge, in 1871 but Guy's remains in its original location. It has long since expanded greatly in size and remit, and is a major teaching hospital. (Below: Guy's, @1830)

One of the early specialist hospitals, besides the much older Bethlem Hospital for Lunatics, was founded in 1747 by surgeon William Blomfield: the London Lock Hospital for the treatment of syphilis and other venereal diseases. It was originally located near Hyde Park Corner, in Grosvenor Place. It later moved to other premises and developed maternity and gynecological services and other facilities before closing in 1952. The name "lock" derives from earlier leper hospitals. "Locks" were rags used to cover the lepers' skin lesions. (Below: Lock Hospital, mid-18th century)

St. George's Hospital, now in Tooting, was originally located at Lanesborough House, Hyde Park Corner, on its founding in 1733. In 1800, the original structure was demolished and replaced by a larger building designed by William Wilkins (below). 

Today, St. George's is one of the major teaching hospitals in the UK. The renowned and controversial surgeon-anatomist John Hunter served as head surgeon at the hospital in the late 18th century. Read about Hunter here: http://mycandles.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/lopping-them-off-in-leicester-square.html


In 1739, sea Captain Thomas Coram founded Britain's first hospital for abandoned children, the Foundling Hospital. It is believed to be the first incorporated charity. It was located at Lamb's Conduit Fields (now Coram's Fields) in Bloomsbury, and counted William Hogarth, Joshua Reynolds, Thomas Gainsborough, and George Frideric Handel among its benefactors. Among other contributions, Hogarth painted Coram's portrait for the hospital. 

The Foundling Hospital was actually an orphanage, with "hospital" used in its ancient sense of hospitality, but medical care of the children was a major function. It moved to the countryside in the early 20th century, and with the shift to adoption and foster care in the 1950's ceased most of its institutional operations. its heritage survives today in Coram, a Children's Charity. 

Another major Georgian foundation that continues to function today is the London Hospital, Whitechapel, founded in 1740, now the Royal London. It was established to fill a void: none of the existing hospitals were located in the less fashionable east side of London. Today it is a large teaching hospital. (Below: two images of the hospital building opened in the 1750's.)

Darwin and Darwinism in Victorian Cartoon and Caricature

The publication of Charles Darwin's Origin of Species (1859) and The Descent of Man (1871) provided plentiful material for the cartoonists and caricaturists. One of my favorites is this one, published in Punch in the year of Darwin's death, 1882. It plays on the fact that Darwin had also written the definitive work on earthworms. A worm emerging from CHAOS is evolving into a variety of questionable primate forms before emerging as a proper Victorian gentleman tipping his hat to Darwin, portrayed as a Greek philosopher. Scientific it isn't, but it is a worthy tribute to the great scientist.    

Many of the caricatures of Darwin highlighted the then frightening notion that man was descended from an ape or monkey, although Darwin stressed that humans were not descended from any existing primate species but from earlier, extinct forms. 

Punch published the two below in 1861, one of an ape arriving for a Victorian formal affair, the other of an ape asking about his relationship to homo sapiens. 

Intentionally or not, "Monkeyana" had definite racist overtones. In the 1780's Darwin's grandfather, Josiah Wedgwood, had produced a medallion for anti-slavery organizations in England in which an enslaved African in chains asked the same question. 

Darwin himself was sometimes presented as an ape-like man, or apes were portrayed as resembling him. The four below are from the 1870's, after the publication of the Descent of Man.

The last of these four, from Punch, was inspired by Darwin's book on climbing plants, reissued in 1875.

But Darwin was not the only famous person to be associated with apes, as this 20th century poster shows.

A Curious Walk along the Thames: Rotherhithe, Deptford, and Greenwich

On yet another beautiful day, I resumed my walk on the Thames Path, along the South Bank of the river. I started where I had ended the previous walk, at the Brunel Museum in Rotherhithe, just past the Mayflower Pub. I soon came to the curious statue below, at Cumberland Wharf. From right about here, the ship Mayflower left for the New World in 1620. 

The statue, put up in the 1990s, is of a Pilgrim of the 1620s and a young Londoner of the 1930s. The lad is reading a popular boy's magazine called the Sunbeam Weekly. the sculptor, Peter Maclean, has spelled it "Weakly." Was this a joke or just a mistake? 

Other curiosities: the Pilgrim has a lobster claw in his pocket, a crucifix, and a London A-Z Street guide dated 1620! The dog, by the way, is a Staffordshire Terrier, a popular breed around here.

Walking on, I soon found myself opposite the Isle of Dogs (no connection to the statue). The Isle was once home to the vast East India Docks, opened in 1802. They closed for good in 1980. The triumph of mammoth container ships rendered them and other London docks obsolete. Today, the area is home to the financial center known as Canary Wharf.    

Resuming my trek on the South Bank, I passed the Docklands Hilton and arrived at the Surrey Docks Farm, a charming urban oasis of green, complete with farm animals, including pigs and goats. One can buy produce and enjoy a snack or meal in the farm's Cafe.

Just beyond the farm I came to Greenland Dock, now a marina for boats of all shapes and sizes, mainly pleasure craft, canal boats, and houseboats.

Greenland Dock is in Deptford. It is near here that Elizabeth I knighted Francis Drake upon his return from circumnavigating the globe in his ship The Golden Hinde. A replica of the ship can be visited upriver in Bankside, at St Mary Overie Dock.  

Things got curiouser and curiouser. After Greenland Dock, I had to take a short detour away from the riverfront. The detour took me through Sayes Court Park, where I encountered an ancient fenced mulberry tree with signs around it informing me that it was Evelyn's Mulberry, that it was entered in the contest for the UK's tree of the Year, and that I should vote for it.

Legend has it that Tsar Peter the Great of Russia planted the tree during a visit to England in 1698. He planted it, so the story goes, to placate his landlord, the famous diarist John Evelyn, after doing some damage to the gardens during a drunken escapade. Other tales argue that the tree is older, perhaps planted during the reign of James I (1603-1624). Whatever the tree's origins, calling it Evelyn's Mulberry is justified. Evelyn owned the land it sits upon, and he wrote one of the first books on trees in 1664. 

After leaving Sayes Court Park, I quickly returned to the riverside and ran into Peter the Great again, memorialized in another curious statue. Peter had come to London mainly because he wanted to study British shipbuilding. He wanted to establish a western style navy in Russia. The statue itself is quite recent, a gift from Russia to commemorate Peter's visit. The little man to Peter's right is said to be one of his dwarf court jesters. Peter himself was extremely tall, 6'6" (2.03m).

From the vantage point of Peter's statue, I had a good view of my final destination for the day, Greenwich, dominated by the masts of the clipper Cutty Sark and the cupolas of the Old Royal Naval College. Both are now museums, in a place full of museums. There are also the National Maritime Museum and the Royal Observatory, where one can stand on the Prime Meridian.

I had visited all these attractions on other occasions. The day was getting late, and I was getting thirsty, thus I wisely limited my time in Greenwich to a stop at the Trafalgar Tavern, guarded by yet another statue, this one of Britain's greatest admiral, Horatio Nelson. Compared to the Mayflower and Peter the Great statues, that of Nelson seemed rather prosaic!