Showing posts with label Byron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Byron. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 June 2018

Hucknall Byron Festival

The Hucknall Byron Festival
Friday 6 - Sunday 15 July 2018

Every year the International Byron Festival takes place in Hucknall and Newstead Abbey to celebrate the life of poet Lord Byron.

This ever-popular annual festival features a variety of activities to suit all ages and interests in and around Hucknall. You can find out more here, or by clicking on the event leaflet!



Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Ada Lovelace: The First Computer Programmer

It's my pleasure to welcome back Francesca Blanch Serrat, in the esteemed company of Ada Lovelace!
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Ada Lovelace: the First Computer Programmer

Ada Lovelace

Ada Lovelace was born a celebrity. The only legitimate daughter of the mad, bad and dangerous-to-know Lord Byron and his wife, Annabella Milbanke, came into the world on December 10, 1815. The child was baptised Augusta Ada— yes, like Augusta Leigh, Byron’s half-sister and alleged lover! Only a month and five days later, Lady Byron left her husband and moved, with Ada, to her parents’ house in Seaham. The reasons behind the separation soon became the favourite topic of conversation in England. Whether the supposed accusations of immoral behaviour had any grounds or not, it is not difficult to imagine how challenging —to say the least— living with England’s most dissolute and libidinous poet was. Lord Byron went from being the nation’s darling to being rebuffed by his society. Two months later, on April 25, Byron set for Belgium. He was never to return home, and he never saw his daughter again. Around that date he wrote the third canto of “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”, which contains this reference to Ada in its very first stanza: 

Is thy face like thy mother’s, my fair child!
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?
When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled,
And then we parted, – not as now we part,
But with a hope. – Awaking with a start,
The waters heave around me; and on high
The winds lift up their voices: I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour’s gone by
When Albion’s lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

Byron never saw Ada again, although from some of his letters and the stanza above we know he did think about her: “I have a great love for little Ada, and I look forward to her as the pillar of my old age, should I ever reach that desolate period, which I hope not.”, wrote the poet to his publisher John Murray. He sent Annabella a locket with his hair for their five-year-old daughter, and in exchange she sent him a portrait of the child. Ada grew up fatherless, with her mother, her grandmother, and a legion of tutors. Annabella took great pains to ensure that Ada received a carefully designed education and did not fall into poetic musings like her father. Annabella made sure her daughter followed a strict timetable: Music at 10, French Reading at 11:15, Arithmetic at 11:30, Work at 1:30, Music again at 3:15 and French Exercises at 4:30 (Ada’s school day in the year 1824; she was eight). The zeal with which Annabella supervised Ada’s education might seem curious from our perspective. However, Annabella herself had been instructed in several subjects, four languages, drawing and dancing; and she was a wealthy, educated woman with the money and time to focus all her energies on her daughter’s upbringing. The young Ada showed signs of genius —mathematical and with a tint of imagination— from an early age: In 1828 she designed the plans for a flying machine.
Ada’s childhood does not sound like a happy one: her mother was not especially warm, her education occupied a great deal of her time and she suffered from frequent illnesses. However, she enjoyed the privileges that come with money, and when she was ten, she was taken on a fifteen-month Grand Tour of the continent. When they came back, they moved to London. Because of her rank and education, she met the intellectual personalities of her age, and became good friends with some of them, such as Charles Dickens, Michael Faraday, Joanna Baillie and Mary Somerville. 
Ada Gordon married William King, who was later to become the Earl of Lovelace. They had three children. Ada loved horses and gambling. She attempted to create a mathematical model for bets, the failure of which led her to a considerable debt.
  She died of uterine cancer in 1852, aged 36, curiously at the same age her father passed away.
Ada Lovelace

Lovelace and Babbage
Charles Babbage was Cambridge Lucasian Professor of Mathematics and founder of the Statistical Society. His life’s dream was to invent a colossal reliable mechanical calculator machine called the Difference Engine, a project that he never finished (it was finally built from his original plans in 2000 and can be found in the Science Museum in London). He is best known for the invention of the Analytical Engine, a precursor to the modern computer. 
It was June 1833, when eighteen-year old Ada met Charles Babbage. They became good friends and began exchanging letters and notes discussing mathematical issues, including, amongst others, the plans for the Analytical Engine. It was Babbage who coined the name “The Enchantress of Numbers” in reference to Ada. In 1843, Ada published a translation of Luigi Menabrea’s Sketch of the Analytical Engine —a French transcription of a lecture by Babbage— with her notes, remarkably longer than the paper. This section includes what it has become known as the first computer program, an algorithm detailing the instructions for the first computer programme, making Ada Lovelace the first computer programmer. This, along with her other contributions, led her  to be considered the founder of computing science.
Ada Lovelace

“Ada Lovelace Day” is celebrated internationally every October since 2009 with the aim to promote young girls’ interest in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) and celebrate women’s contributions to STEM fields.
If you are interested in Ada’s life, there are some recent biographies out there, for instance James Essinger’s Ada’s Algorithm (Melville House 2013). However, if fiction is more your cup of tea, I strongly recommend Sydney Padua’s The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage (Penguin Books, 2015) and Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia (Faber&Faber 1993)
About the Author
Francesca Blanch Serrat is an MA candidate. She graduated in English Studies with a minor in Gender Studies from Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (Catalonia) in 2015. She spent a life changing, tea charged academic year in the University of Edinburgh in 2014. She is currently working on her MA dissertation on Charlotte Dacre’s Zofloya. Her main focuses of interest are 18th century women writers and English and French Romanticism. She likes cats, Feminism, dead French revolutionaries, socks, and talking about Lord Byron with alarming familiarity. 

Written content of this post copyright © Francesca Blanch Serrat, 2016.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Byron, Rebellion, and the Greeks!

It is a pleasure to welcome Caroline Warfield back to the salon today to share the tale of Byron, Rebellion, and the Greeks! The winner of the Kindle copy of the winner’s choice of Dangerous Works or Dangerous Secrets is Judith Arnopp; thanks to all who entered!


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Nature abhors a vacuum. The maxim, first postulated by a physicist, Parmenides, in the fifth century BC, is a truism that has been quoted over and over. If nature abhors a vacuum, politics hates it more. Remove great power from a country or region and a dozen smaller forces will flood in vying for power. Witness the current situation in the Middle East.

Napoleon’s rule, once ended, left behind the seeds of rebellion and power vacuums across Europe. One of the first open rebellions, the Greek Revolution, broke out into warfare in 1821 after simmering for years. What were the issues and why on earth was Lord Byron involved? The answers are complicated, colorful, and not always as romantic as they sound, as I discovered researching background for Dangerous Weakness.

Lord Byron at Missolonghi by Theodoros Vryzakis, 1861
Lord Byron at Missolonghi by Theodoros Vryzakis, 1861

In 1821 the Ottoman Empire ruled what we now call Greece, except for the Ionian Islands along the western coast of the Peloponnesian mainland, which were a British protectorate from 1815 to 1864. There was, in fact, no actual governmental entity known as “Greece” or “Hellas” at that time. There was instead a loose group of provinces with large numbers of Greek-speaking people. Among the forces at work in the region were a weakening of imperial administrative control, the spread of western republican ideas, and the influence of the Greek Orthodox Church, which had been a major factor in the preservation of language and culture. Economics played a part also.

There were a number of attempts at rebellion, but the date for the start of the revolution is generally given as March 21, 1821 when revolts broke out in several different places. The rebels managed to take and hold the Peloponnese, the peninsula to the southwest of the Isthmus of Corinth in modern Greece, which in ancient times was dominated by Sparta. They set up a provisional government. Ten long messy years followed before the Sultan recognized Greek independence and the provisional government in 1832. Internal dissention, factions fostered by European powers, and massacres and betrayal by all sides contributed to the drawn out struggle.

Popular support for Greece ran high in some segments of the classically educated British upper/intellectual classes early on. Romantic notions about ancient Greece certainly contributed. The notable figure is, of course, Lord Byron. There is no doubt he knew his history of the Peloponnesian and Persian Wars, of Pericles and of Themistocles and Salamis. He wrote:

 I dream'd that Greece might still be free;
For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

Lord Byron on his Death-bed by Joseph Denis Odevaere, circa 1826
Lord Byron on his Death-bed by Joseph Denis Odevaere, circa 1826

It is tempting to dismiss Byron as an effete romantic who wandered over to Greece, sickened and died. In truth he had a long history of support for social reform and national independence causes. He gave £4,000 of his own money to refit a Greek navy. He joined Alexandros Mavrokordatos, a Greek political and military leader sympathetic to Britain and participated in arming and training troops he planned to lead himself in a planned attack on Lepanto. Before he could do so, he died at Missolonghi. His death, most likely hastened by the questionable practice of bleeding, touched off mourning in both England and Greece.

Lord Byron on his Death-bed by Joseph Denis Odevaere, circa 1826
The Byron Memorial at Missolonghi,
By Fingalo

Where was the British Government in all this? Initially it discouraged the revolt. They last thing Britain wanted was the rise revolutionary governments on the continent. In 1820, however, Britain’s primary concern was not so much the rights of the Ottomans, or even fear of radicalism, but Russian expansionism. Revolution meant opportunity for Russia. Eventually, popular support for Greece—possibly exacerbated by Byron’s death—and the pragmatic need to thwart Russian influence led to support for Greek Independence. Note that the same pragmatic concern would lead it to support the Ottoman side in Crimea twenty years later, again to thwart Russia.

Britain began to intervene on the side of Greece after the Treaty of London in 1827.  The Ottoman Empire, believing in its own superior navy declined to support the treaty. The combined efforts of the European powers effectively destroyed the Ottoman navy in Battle of  Navarino, but the war continued for five more years. The Treaty of Constantinople gave Greece the victory in 1832. Byron would have celebrated.

For more information see:

Revolution in Greece
http://www.fact-index.com/b/ba/battle_of_navarino.html

Byron and Greece

The Eastern Question in General

And my own interest in the subject

About Dangerous Weakness


If women were as easily managed as the affairs of state—or the recalcitrant Ottoman Empire—Richard Hayden, Marquess of Glenaire, would be a happier man. As it was the creatures—one woman in particular—made hash of his well-laid plans and bedeviled him on all sides.

Lily Thornton came home from Saint Petersburg in pursuit of marriage. She wants a husband and a partner, not an overbearing, managing man. She may be “the least likely candidate to be Marchioness of Glenaire,” but her problems are her own to fix, even if those problems include both a Russian villain and an interfering Ottoman official.

Given enough facts, Richard can fix anything. But protecting that impossible woman is proving almost as hard as protecting his heart, especially when Lily’s problems bring her dangerously close to an Ottoman revolution. As Lily’s personal problems entangle with Richard’s professional ones, and she pits her will against his, he chases her across the pirate-infested Mediterranean. Will she discover surrender isn’t defeat? That might even have its own sweet reward.

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Read an Extract

“We will marry of course,” he told her. “Quickly, but not so abruptly as to cause comments.” He walked toward the door, expecting her to follow.
“I beg your pardon,” she called out to him. “We will what?”
He turned on his heel. “Miss Thornton, you will be the Marchioness of Glenaire. That is far from ideal, and the difference in our state will no doubt cause talk. We will have to endure it.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why this ‘far from ideal’ demand? Has Lady Sarah refused you?”
“Don’t be coy, Miss Thornton. You have led me into folly at every step. After last night I have no choice. I shall have to marry you. My family—”
“Your family would have kittens if I married you, which I will not.”
“You have respectable, if not the highest, breeding, you will show to advantage when properly dressed, and you will do well as a diplomatic hostess. My family, I was going to say, will have to deal with it.” He stalked away. “So will you.”
“I will not,” Lily shouted after him.

About the Author


Caroline Warfield has at various times been an army brat, a librarian, a poet, a raiser of children, a nun, a bird watcher, an Internet and Web services manager, a conference speaker, an indexer, a tech writer, a genealogist, and, of course, a romantic. She has sailed through the English channel while it was still mined from WWII, stood on the walls of Troy, searched Scotland for the location of an entirely fictional castle (and found it), climbed the steps to the Parthenon, floated down the Thames from the Tower to Greenwich, shopped in the Ginza, lost herself in the Louvre, gone on a night safari at the Singapore zoo, walked in the Black Forest, and explored the underground cistern of Istanbul. By far the biggest adventure has been life-long marriage to a prince among men.

She sits in front of a keyboard at a desk surrounded by windows, looks out at the trees and imagines. Her greatest joy is when one of those imaginings comes to life on the page and in the imagination of her readers.

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Written content of this post copyright © Caroline Warfield, 2015.