Genuine surprises are rare, or so I have usually found. Pleasure or disappointment at the unexpected tend to be tempered by the fact that you half-expected it all along. But a telephone conversation two years ago was something else – as real a knock-me-down-flat, well I’m expletive-deleted surprise that one could possibly wish for. Knowing that it would soon be 50 years since the publication of E.B. Ford’s famous book, Butterflies, I had written a couple of trifling pieces to draw attention to the New Naturalist series. I had also, in a desultory way, accumulated a certain amount of background material on the authors of the series, partly to gratify my own curiosity but also with the vague intention of turning it into something a bit meatier than a short article. One day, while tramping across the withered heath of Thorne Waste with Derek Ratcliffe, I happened to mention these biographical rummagings. Derek responded with some first-hand stories of his own about Pearsall, Ford et al, and there, I thought, the matter had ended.
Then came the surprise. Some time in June 1993 I had telephoned HarperCollins to ask if any internal archive on the series existed, and if so whether I could have a look at it. The cheerful female voice on the other end of the line thought that there was, and, yes, that I probably could.
‘Oh, and by the way,’ she added, ‘we are planning a special volume for the 50th anniversary of the series. I thought you sounded familiar. Your name has been put forward as a possible author.’
At which point, I said either ‘who?’ or ‘what!’ or possibly both.
‘Come to lunch next week, and we’ll talk about it then.’
It transpired that the idea of celebrating the series had been on the editorial table for some time, so that what for me was a lightning bolt from an empty sky was for those more closely involved an increasingly urgent problem. As it happened, I was coming to the end of a long book and was rather wondering what to do next. So I ate my lunch, and took what was offered, and said, yes please.
No sooner had I started to research the series in earnest than I realised it was necessary, as the American writer Shelby Foote put it, ‘to go spread-eagle whole hog on the thing’. There are 102 New Naturalist books, if we include the monographs (as, indeed, we must), and at least that number of authors. The main series covers almost every imaginable facet of British natural history as it has developed during these past 50 years and the authors themselves form a display of biodiversity as kaleidoscopic as any latter-day environmentalist might wish for. I did some more delving, in London, Oxford, Edinburgh and other places; I wrote a lot of letters and read an awful lot of files, papers, memoirs and other biographical odds and ends; and renewed some old acquaintances and made some new ones.
From the resultant heap emerged a story of New Naturalist life and times. I say ‘a’ rather than ‘the’ because my story is a personal interpretation, a matter of selection and parings, of deductions, opinions and no doubt prejudices. It is a story that has not yet ended, thank goodness, though it has a very definite beginning: in the publishing ambitions of Billy Collins, in the popular science of Julian Huxley and James Fisher, and in the cultural impact of the Second World War. The books were an innovation on several levels: as the first serious attempt to bridge the divide between popular natural histories and the professional journal; as the first large-scale use of outdoor colour photographs; and, as the most wide-ranging natural survey of these islands ever made. The series could probably not have happened at any other time. Its success was a happy combination of technological advance, the right authors, a novel way of commissioning books and, above all, of perfect timing. And it was therefore not only a scientific sensation and a succes d’estime, but a commercial success as well. The first titles sold by the tens of thousands: to ex-servicemen, starved of the sights and sounds of the countryside, to evacuees who had just experienced their first taste of them, to schools and colleges with a new interest in field study, and to anyone with a more than passing interest in nature. The series was a product of the age, and an upbeat age it was, despite the tragedies and austerities of the war. The people had been promised a new Britain, and National Parks, nature reserves and better access to the countryside were all part of that vision. Nature was the perfect antidote to war memories.
It follows that this is a story with roots and tentacles. It begins at a luncheon for four in a Soho restaurant, followed by the establishment of an editorial board, the search for authors and for colour photographs, and for a distinctive image exemplified by the distinctive Ellis dust jackets. Since we are celebrating the half centenary not only of the series but of a particular book, I have devoted a chapter to Butterflies and its singular author, E.B. Ford. We then move on to a review of the series as a whole, of writers and their writings and what they have to tell us about the nature of field study in Britain. After a short digression on promising titles that were never made into books, we reach the more recent years of the series and its survival in more uncertain times. Finally we take a briefer look at the role of the New Naturalist series and authors in shaping the development of nature conservation in Britain. The chapters are all to some extent watertight, and can be read in any order, though they are intended to form a gradually unrolling story. To round off the tale, I have commissioned two short appreciations of the New Naturalist library told from a more personal perspective by Peter Schofield and Peter Laslett, both keen collectors and readers of the series. Two of the three appendices are factual: short biographies of all but a handful of the authors of the series, and a full bibliography based on the internal records of HarperCollins. The third appendix is about collecting New Naturalist books, a healthy pursuit which has grown in popularity during the past ten years.
I have not interrupted the main text with source references since much of this book is based on unpublished material, though I have indicated my main sources at the end of the book. If anyone finds that I have quoted them out of context, or without permission, I apologise in advance. The responsibility for any mistakes or distortions is, of course, entirely my own.
Here is the book. I hope you read it with as much enjoyment as I have experienced in writing it. And let us hope that there will be another like it, 50 years onwards, to mark the centenary of the New Naturalist library and numberless classics yet unwritten.
I have many people to thank. I could not have asked for a more perceptive and constructive editor than Derek Ratcliffe, nor a more cheerfully efficient and helpful one than Isobel Smales. Both have read and commented on the full text, and working with them has been, to put it bluntly, good fun. HarperCollins gave me the full run of their New Naturalist archive and current files, and were admirably broad-minded in allowing me to include material, such as print-runs, which is normally a commercial secret. I thank Myles Archibald for sharing some of his memories of the series and reading some of the text with a friendly eye. To the New Naturalist authors and photographers with whom I have corresponded, or interviewed, I owe a special debt of thanks, since the book could not have been written in this way without their help. They are: Mr Robert Atkinson, Mr Sam Beaufoy, Professor R.J. Berry, Dr J. Morton Boyd CBE, Dr Colin G. Butler FRS, Mr Niall Campbell, Mr William Condry, Professor Philip Corbet, Dr Brian Davis, Mr Richard Fitter, Professor John Free, Mr Fred Goldring, Professor W.G. Hale, Mr Laughton Johnston, Dr Peter Maitland, Dr Michael Majerus, Dr Norman Moore, Dr Ernest Neal MBE, Dr Ian Newton FRS, Mr Max Nicholson CB, Dr Christopher Page, Dr Christopher Perrins, Dr Ernest Pollard, Dr Michael Proctor, Dr Miriam Rothschild FRS, Mr Eric Simms DFC, Dr Max Walters, Dr E.B. Worthington CBE and Dr Peter Yeo. The following have kindly helped me with information on deceased authors: Dr Douglas Bassett (F.J. North), Dr J. Morton Boyd (F. Fraser Darling), Dr Cedric Collingwood (D. Wragge-Morley), Mrs Phyllis Ellis (E.A. Ellis), Dr J. Elmes (M.V Brian), Dr Clemency Fisher (James Fisher), Dr Tegwyn Harris (L.A. Harvey), Mr David Hosking (Eric Hosking), Desmond and Maimie Nethersole-Thompson, Mr Ian Pettman (T.T. Macan), Mr Steven Simpson (Malcolm Smith), Mr Ioan Thomas (Ian Hepburn), Mr A.F. Vizoso (Monica Shorten), Mr Tom Wall (A.W. Boyd), Dr Charles Watkins (K.C. Edwards) and Dr Max Walters (John Gilmour and John Raven). For memories of E.B. Ford, I thank Professor Berry, Professor Bryan C. Clarke FRS, Mr John S. Haywood, Mr Thomas Huxley, Dr John Pusey and Miriam Rothschild. I thank Miriam Rothschild, too, for allowing me to reprint her article My First Book, first published in The Author, the journal of the Society of Authors.
I am particularly indebted to Rosemary Ellis and her daughters, Penelope and Charlotte, for their hospitality, for providing valuable information about the life and work of Clifford and Rosemary Ellis, and for commenting so constructively on that part of the book. I also spent an enjoyable day in the company of Robert Gillmor, and am grateful to him for the insights into his work for the series and for reading the relevant chapter.
I thank Dr Peter Laslett and Mr Peter Schofield for their respective contributions reproduced at the end of this book.
The artwork reproduced in this book was all photographed under my supervision with great skill and patience by Mr Mike Amphlett. Many people have kindly entrusted photographs to me, and I am indebted to the following for their help in tracking down suitable material: Mrs Mary Briggs, Mrs Sheila Edwards, Dr Clemency Fisher, Mr John Haywood, Mr David Hosking, Dr A.F. Millidge, Mr Ian Pettman, Dr Derek Ratcliffe, Mr John Thackray, Mr Ioan Thomas, Mr Peter Wakely, Dr Max Walters and Dr Charles Watkins. I am grateful too for the assistance of archivists and librarians at The Bodleian Library, The Natural History Museum, The Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew and Edinburgh, English Nature, the British Trust for Ornithology, the Royal Society, the Linnaean Society and the Freshwater Biological Association. Bloomsbury Book Auctions kindly allowed me access to the private papers of James Fisher.
I thank the following for permission to reproduce copyright material: Eric and David Hosking (pp. 14, 20, 22, 30, 37, 43, 51, 53, 121, 129, 149, 169, 191, 196, 198), the Natural History Museum picture library (pp. 126, 128, 167, 211), English Nature (frontispiece, pp. 47, 110, 151, 230, 234, 236, 237), Mr John S. Haywood (pp. 93, 95, 100, 103, 114), Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (pp. 150, 160, 161), Freshwater Biological Association (pp.125, 133, 201), Rothamsted Experimental Station (pp. 58, 166), Botanical Society of the British Isles (pp. 27, 138), John Innes Institute (p. 189), Mr Sam Beaufoy (pp. 53, 106), Institute of Terrestrial Ecology (p.144), Dept. of Zoology, Cambridge (p. 152), St Catherine’s College, Cambridge (p. 235), Dept. of Geography, Royal Holloway (p. 168), Dept. of Geography, Nottingham University (p. 158), Paul Sterry/Nature Photographers (p. 16), Kate Collinson/Norman Parkinson Studio (p. 66), The Old Oundelian (p. 159), Dr Nigel Westwood (p. 203), Mrs Faith Raven and King’s College, Cambridge (p. 136), Mr D.R. Nellist (p. 140), Ms Anna Fitter (p. 120), Mr Euan Dunn (p. 196), Mr Dick Balharry (Plate 16).
Finally I have, as ever, to thank three faithful friends: Dick Seamons for his help with library searches and his roving eye for the more bizarre items in current journals, and Maureen Symons for deciphering my heavily edited manuscripts and turning them with great speed into faultless type with a cheerfulness and humour that never showed a sign of the long, ungodly hours she spent on it. Also to Nicky Salfranc for reading and commenting on several chapters with the gleeful zeal of a linguist. Thanks, chums.
That I was able to spend a year with the New Naturalists was in large part due to my brother Christopher, who provided a roof over my head while I scribbled. To him this book is dedicated, with fraternal affection.
P.R.M.
Newtown Lodge,
Ramsbury.
September 1994