Serendipity in Sussex
Following on from my post of Friday 18th November 2022, in which I described how I discovered, serendipitously, the close links between one of my great grandfather’s two employers, Frederick DuCane Godman, and the town of Horsham, in West Sussex, I shall now describe how the story evolved from there over the ensuing months.
On that rainy day in November last year, when the appalling weather drove me to discover the Horsham Museum, where I spotted a reference to Mr Godman, I introduced myself to one of the curators there, and he told me that they were in the process of putting together an exhibition on Godman’s life and work, to run from May to September 2023. I explained that my great grandfather, amateur entomologist George Charles Champion, had been employed as an insect collector by Godman and Salvin in 1879, and then spent the whole of the rest of his working life in their employ, and had ended up becoming one of the most eminent entomologists of his day. I also mentioned that I had a box of butterfly specimens caught by G C Champion in Central America between 1879 and 1883, and that I would be delighted to lend that to the museum for display in the exhibition. This offer was gladly accepted.
The Godman catalogue that initially attracted my attention in the Horsham Museum
The box of butterflies, caught by G C Champion between 1879 and 1883, which I offered to the Museum for the exhibition
The label inside the box identifies it as being part of the Godman & Salvin collection
A few weeks later, I returned to Horsham to deliver the butterflies, and I met the other curator, who suggested that I might perhaps like to meet the great niece of Mr Godman, and so it was that I had the extraordinary privilege of enjoying a lunch with a living descendant of the man who had such an extraordinary influence on my family’s lives since the moment when he recruited George Charles Champion, altering his entire career and elevating him from being a relatively humble watch repairman in his father’s small jewellery shop in Walworth Road, London, allowing him to pursue a career that was to lead him to name more than 4500 new species of insect, and to become a Fellow of the Royal Entomological Society, among other achievements. That lunch has led to several very enjoyable meetings between us, and the commencement of a friendship, forged in a pub just opposite the entrance of South Lodge, Godman’s splendid former residence south of Horsham, around 145 years after our respective forebears started their association.
Renewing the Godman and Champion link 145 years after it began
Sadly, I was unable to attend the opening of the exhibition in May due to commitments in Scotland, but I was invited to give a talk on my great grandfather’s journeys as a collector for Godman and Salvin, a talk that was well attended and with an audience that included two Godman descendants…and a former colleague of mine from my former place of work in the Netherlands, who arrived unannounced, a most pleasant surprise for me.
The talk was well attended
Not only did that chance visit to Horsham last year lead to this talk, but some recent family history research has led me to discover the fact that the Champions, prior to their move to London in the early years of the 19th century, came from West Sussex, in particular the village of Wisborough Green and the towns of Billingshurst and…Horsham! Serendipity indeed!
Publicity poster advertising the talk
An extraordinary story of a Pekingese dog, the sacking of the Summer Palace, the two most powerful women in the late 19th century world, and a chance find in a Dutch second-hand bookshop
Last week I found myself in a well-known bookshop in Wageningen, a small town in the Netherlands that hosts one of the world’s few universities that specialise entirely in life sciences. I had visited that shop on numerous occasions during my 14 years of teaching in that town, but I had never realised that there was a second-hand section upstairs. This time, however, I found that out and ventured up to the second floor.
There I found lots of interesting volumes, but my eyes seemed to be drawn to a volume with the intriguing title of “The Butterfly Lions”, perhaps because of my abiding passion for butterflies. I then noticed that the book was written by Rumer Godden, an authoress whom my paternal grandmother knew (I’m not sure how exactly, but they were both born in and spent much of their lives in India, and both settled in later life in Galloway, in south-west Scotland).
The Butterfly Lions, by Rumer Godden
On opening the book, I found to my initial disappointment that the subject matter was dogs, more specifically Pekingese dogs, a breed that had never interested me before perusing this book. I leafed through the pages rapidly, but I soon realised that, while the book was superficially about these diminutive dogs, it was in fact much more of an account of how the breed reached the Western world, leading on to a comparison between the two most powerful women in the world in the late 19th century, Queen Victoria in the United Kingdom, and the Dowager Empress Cixi in the dying days of the Qing Dynasty in China, a period that has long fascinated me.
By now hooked, I bought the book and proceeded to read it from cover to cover in two days. Although perhaps tenuous, I felt a strong family link with the subject matter, partly because of my grandmother knowing Rumer Godden, but more importantly due to the long history of my great great uncle Harry Walker, who rose from being a humble rigger in the Royal Naval Dockyard at Sheerness, having left school at 14, to eventually become Professor of Marine Engineering at the Tientsin Naval Academy, having been lent to the Imperial Chinese Navy to help it build up its strength to counter Japan – an effort that eventually came to nothing when the Chinese Navy was trounced by the Japanese forces in 1894, leading to China being compelled to cede Taiwan to Japan.
The book begins with the sad and rather shocking tale of Lootie (sometimes spelled Looty), a lonely Pekingese that had been rescued by Capt. J. Hart Dunne, of the 99th Regiment, who bought her from some French soldiers after the sacking and burning of the exquisite Summer Palace in Peking (now Beijing) by British and French troops in 1860, at the end of the Second Opium War. Captain Hart Dunne had named the dog, perhaps in shame and horror at the orgy of looting by the troops that characterised the destruction of the Palace, culminating in its burning on the orders of Lord Elgin, British High Commissioner in Peking (son of the Lord Elgin of the Elgin Marbles fame). It is said that Elgin was haunted for the rest of his days by the memory of what he had ordered.
Lootie, the Pekingese that was presented to Queen Victoria following the looting of the Summer Palace by British and French troops in 1860.
Uncertain as to what to do with Lootie, and knowing that the animal was of Royal lineage, he sent it to Queen Victoria. Although the dog never became her personal pet, it nonetheless lived for another 11 years in the Royal Kennels in Windsor. Five other Pekingese dogs arrived in the U.K. at this time, all originating in the Summer Palace, and it seems that they were the first of their breed to become established there.
The other link I feel with this extraordinary story is the fact that my forebear Harry Walker, as an invited guest of the Imperial Chinese government, apparently took tea with the Dowager Empress Cixi in the marble boat she had ordered the reconstruction of as part of the restoration of the Summer Palace complex that took place after the sacking in 1860. The irony was that this hugely expensive restoration was apparently paid for by slashing the budget allocated to the Navy, the very institution that Harry Walker and his colleagues were in China to help build up, leading at least in part to China’s defeat at the hands of the Japanese warships. I am not sure whether he really visited her on a one-to-one basis, and sadly his diaries appear to have been lost. What is certain, though, is that he was awarded the Order of the Pearl Dragon, a prestigious medal, in recognition of his efforts in maintaining the water supply to the city through the Seige of Tientsin (now Tianjin), during the Boxer Rebellion. Even this is clouded with mystery, though, because Empress Cixi encouraged the Boxers to do their best to force the hated foreign devils out of China, but when this failed, she quickly changed her tune, inviting foreigners to visit her in an effort to improve her image in western eyes. Was Harry Walker one of these?
The Marble Boat at the Summer Palace. Source: worldartfriends.com
Anyway, finding this book was a ticket to a very enjoyable voyage through these pages of history, and who would have thought that a book found in a second hand bookshop in the Netherlands, but inscribed and given to somebody in Epsom, Surrey, in July 1977, should give me such pleasure? And how did the book end up in Wageningen? Thereby hangs a tale as well, no doubt, but one that I shall probably never know the answer to.
The Dowager Empress Cixi, painted by Hubert Voss
An unexpected quest in West Sussex
Months have passed since I last posted on my blog, but yesterday I found myself doing some family history footstep retracing, totally unexpectedly, and I feel it was worth writing about! My mother would have loved this story, had she lived to read it.
I was in Horsham, an attractive town not far from Gatwick airport, and the rain was pouring down all morning. Streets were partially flooded, and the best place to shelter was the excellent Horsham branch of Waterstones booksellers, which has an attractive café.
After a good relax there, the weather improved slightly, so we started wandering along the street, and were immediately attracted by a castellated building that looked worth a closer look, both from in front and behind…and just beyond it we spotted the Horsham Museum and Gallery, which was to lead me on a voyage of discovery for the rest of the day, and back to the days of my great grandfather, entomologist G C Champion.
The building that attracted us to the museum behind
The museum is really outstanding, housing a great range of diverse exhibits, but one in particular brought me up sharp: a cabinet containing memorabilia of famous Horsham residents, among which was a large leather-bound volume, labelled “Godman Catalogues”. My eyes were immediately drawn to this, and it turned out to be a catalogue of Godman’s library, housed then at his residence, South Lodge. This Godman was none other than my great grandfather G C Champion’s employer Frederick DuCane Godman who, together with Osbert Salvin, employed him as an insect collector in 1879, and sent him off to Guatemala and Panama, initiating a collaboration that lasted throughout my great grandfather’s life, and still echoes strongly in my own life, having inspired me to retrace his and Godman and Salvin’s footsteps on my own great journey through those countries in 2011.
The Godman catalogue
An enquiry at the desk led me to discover that an exhibition of Godman’s life and work is due to be held at the museum next summer, and I met the future curator of that. A few questions and a quick Google search revealed that South Lodge, Godman’s former home, was only a few miles to the south of Horsham, and it is now a luxury hotel and spa. So, it was not long before we were pulling into the driveway of a fine stately home, and passing a truly monumental rhododendron, a fitting memorial to a man whose extraordinary contribution to our knowledge of all aspects of the natural world, including botany, is incalculable.
The monumental rhododendron
Inside the building, there were numerous references to and memorabilia of the Godman family, including family photographs, a stained glass window featuring the Godman family crest, and most interesting to me, a series of panels on the wall of the main corridor, one of which, referring to the magnificent 63-volume work that Frederick DuCane Godman and Salvin compiled, the “Biologia Centrali-Americana”, read: “Although it was not until 1876 that Godman and Salvin, who had first met at university in Cambridge, decided to embark on a large-scale study of the biology of Central America, their research into this field had started twenty-two years prior to the first issue’s publication in 1879. During that time, they travelled extensively in Central America and amassed specimens for their own collections, as well as training some of the natives to collect further specimens which were then sent back to England for classification. These specimens, as well as those obtained by professional collectors employed by Godman and Salvin [my great grandfather was one of these collectors], were distributed to the section-editors for the necessary research and illustration during the publication of this work. After Salvin’s death in 1898, Godman continued the work, assisted by G C Champion, who worked as secretary and sub-editor to Godman, as well as contributing to nine volumes of the series. Godman’s obituary in The Ibis magazine describes the Biologia as “WITHOUT QUESTION THE GREATEST WORK OF THE KIND EVER PLANNED AND CARRIED OUT BY PRIVATE INDIVIDUALS…..AND…..A MONUMENT TO THE ENERGY AND MUNIFICENCE OF SALVIN AND GODMAN”.
G C Champion is referred to here
The hotel kindly provided free copies of a fascinating volume, “A History of South Lodge”, providing further insight into the legacy of this magnificent property, which passed out of the ownership of the Godman family in 1985, and which has since been run as an exclusive hotel, hosting major events including the 2009 G20 summit.
South Lodge pre-1911
South Lodge in 2022
One of the reception rooms in South Lodge
The Godman family crest
A picture of Mr Godman in the lobby
Having admired this wonderful building, it seemed only fitting to try to locate Frederick DuCane Godman’s grave, and so we drove just a few miles south, to the little village of Cowfold, and entered the churchyard, which only appeared to contain graves from an earlier period than Godman’s. The church was, perhaps surprisingly so late in the day, open but the light switches seemed to be impossible to find, and as it was already quite dark inside the building, it was hard to see much. I had wondered if there might be a plaque to the memory of Frederick DuCane Godman, but none was to be seen, although two of the stained glass windows bore inscriptions commemorating other members of the Godman family.
A Godman memorial window in Cowfold church
Text of the memorial to F D Godman’s sister-in-law Maud
Feeling slightly disappointed, we left the building and were about to abandon our search, when we spotted a man taking his dog for a walk in the churchyard. I asked him if he knew where the more modern graves might be. He said, “Oh yes, they’re in a separate area beyond the hedge surrounding the church. Are you looking for anyone in particular?”, to which I replied that we were looking for a Mr Godman, of South Lodge. “Oh yes, the Godmans. They’re all in a row at the back of the other section”.
St Peters, Cowfold
And so it was that we found the grave of Frederick DuCane Godman, the man (together with Osbert Salvin) who had given my great grandfather his lucky break at the age of 29, when he had thought that his destiny lay in simply running his father’s small jewelry shop in Walworth Road, South London, but which led him to become one of the most eminent entomologists of his time. The grave looked rather sad, and the letter ‘n’ was missing from the name Godman. Nonetheless, I felt a link to this remarkable man, and an extraordinary, unexpected afternoon came to an end.
The grave of Frederick DuCane Godman, 1834 – 1919
Godman has become Godma, as the n has disappeared
