Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies Volume 39 9781350203419, 9781350230101, 9781350203471

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Geographers

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Geographers Biobibliographical Studies Volume 39 Edited by Elizabeth Baigent and André Reyes Novaes On behalf of the Commission on the History of Geography of the International Geographical Union and the International Union of the History and Philosophy of Science

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2021 Copyright © Elizabeth Baigent and André Reyes Novaes, 2021 Elizabeth Baigent and André Reyes Novaes have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permissions for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologizes for any errors or omissions and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-3502-0341-9 ePDF: 978-1-3502-0347-1 eBook: 978-1-3502-0348-8 Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

GEOGRAPHERS: BIOBIBLIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES This volume is part of a series of works, published annually on the history of geography, undertaken on behalf of the Commission on the History of Geography of the International Geographical Union and the Commission of the International Union on the Philosophy and History of Science. Chair: Marcella Schmidt di Friedberg, University of Milan-Bicocca, Piazza dell’Ateneo Nuovo, 1 20126, Milano, Italy. Other full members: Marie-Vic Ozouf-Marignier, EHESS, 190–198 Avenue de France, 75244 Paris cedex 13, France. Federico Ferretti, University College Dublin, School of Geography, H015 Newman Building, Belfield – Dublin 4, Ireland. Elizabeth Baigent, School of Geography and the Environment, University of Oxford, South Parks Road, Oxford, OX1 3QY, United Kingdom. André Reyes Novaes, Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro, Departamento de Geografia Humana, Rua São Francisco Xavier, 524 Maracanã, 20550–013 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Guy Mercier, Centre interuniversitaire d’études sur les lettres, les arts et les traditions (CELAT), Département de géographie, Université de Laval, Pavillon Charles-De Koninck, 19 Local 6259, Québec G1K 7P4, Canada. Fukuda Tamami, School of Environmental System Sciences, Osaka Prefecture University 1-1 Gakuen-cho, Naka-ku Sakai, Osaka 599–8531, Japan. Leon Yacher, Department of Geography, Morrill Hall 118A, Southern Connecticut State University, 501 Crescent Street, New Haven, CT 06515–1355, USA. Perla Zusman, CONICET/ Instituto de Geografía, Universidad de Buenos Aires, Puán 480, 4to piso CP 1406, Ciudad Autónoma de Buenos Aires, Argentina. Bruno Schelhaas, Leibniz-Institut für Länderkunde Schongauerstraße 904328, Leipzig, Germany. Judite Nascimento, Departamento de Ciència e Tecnologia Universidade de Cabo Verde, Campus do Palmarejo Praia Santiago, Cape Verde. Honorary chairs: Vincent Berdoulay, Département de Géographie, Laboratoire Société, Environnement, Territoire, Université de Pau et des Pays de l’Adour, Domaine Universitaire, 64000 Pau, France. Jacobo García-Álvarez, Departamento de Humanidades: Historia, Geografía y Arte Universidad Carlos III de Madrid, C/ Madrid 126, Edificio 14, despacho 14.2.13 28093 Getafe, Spain. Other honorary members: Michael Heffernan, School of Geography, University of Nottingham, University Park,

Nottingham, NG7 2RD, United Kingdom. Jean-Yves Puyo, Département de Géographie Laboratoire Société, Environnement, Territoire, Université de Pau et des Pays de l’Adour, Domaine Universitaire, 64000 Pau, France. Charles W. J. Withers, Institute of Geography, University of Edinburgh, Drummond Street, Edinburgh EH8 9XP, Scotland. João Carlos Garcia, Departamento de Geografía, Facultade de Letras, Universidade do Porto, Via Panorâmica s/ n 4150–564 Porto, Portugal. Jan Vandersmissen, Centre d’Histoire des Sciences et des Techniques, Université de Liège, 17 place Delcour, 4020 Liège, Belgium.

Contents Note on Contributor  viii 1 Not just rounding up the usual suspects: Hugh Clout and geography’s stories  1 Elizabeth Baigent and André Reyes Novaes 2 David Lowenthal (1923–2018)  27 Hugh Clout 3 Eric Herbert Brown (1922–2018)  77 Hugh Clout 4 Maurice Le Lannou (1906–92)  109 Hugh Clout 5 Renée Rochefort (1924–2012)  143 Hugh Clout 6 Two French geographers, father and son: Gaston Gravier (1886–1915) and Jean-François Gravier (1915–2005)  169 Hugh Clout 7 Two geographers, father and daughter: Pierre Foncin (1841–1916) and Myriem Foncin (1893–1976)  207 Hugh Clout Index  236

Note on Contributor Hugh Clout is Professor Emeritus in the Department of Geography at University College London, UK. He is a fellow of the British Academy.

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Not just rounding up the usual suspects: Hugh Clout and geography’s stories Elizabeth Baigent and André Reyes Novaes

In the closing minutes of Casablanca (1942) Louis Renault, the city’s chief of police (Claude Rains) witnesses hero Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) shoot the Nazi villain. Rather than arresting the obvious culprit, Renault, with his stylish French urbanity intact, instead orders his subordinates to ‘round up the usual suspects’ – a strategy that seems plausible to outsiders but which is ultimately unsatisfying. The phrase ‘rounding up the usual suspects’ has entered common parlance to epitomize reaching for an easy but sooner or later unsatisfying answer (Harmetz 1993). In the field of collective biography rounding up the usual suspects is always tempting. It is the easy answer that leads to memoirs for the obvious candidates, those whose achievements are so striking that their memorialization is uncontroversial and whose lives are well documented in well-ordered archives which lie close to hand. Such memorialization of the illustrious is of course welcome, and it has been a pleasure to see memoirs of geography’s major figures in Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies (GBS) – something this volume continues with its life of David Lowenthal. Confining our bibliographical endeavours to the illustrious is not so welcome, however, and the idea of not just rounding up the usual suspects seems an apt way to introduce the 39th volume of GBS which, for the first time, celebrates the contribution of one geographer – Hugh Clout – to telling geography’s stories. Clout’s memoirs have been the mainstay of GBS in recent years: the eight lives in this volume bring the published total to forty-six (a full list is given at the end of this editorial and twelve more have been drafted). The quotation from Casablanca seems apt because it alludes to Clout’s love of France and

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knowledge of French Morocco, while reflecting on the value of his biographical work which has gone far beyond rounding up the usual suspects. As well as ensuring that the discipline’s major figures get their biographical memorial (something that in fact is never straightforward, as such people can go unmemorialized, with everyone assuming that someone else will take on the task), Clout memorializes the forgotten, those who had made an important local contribution which went unnoticed on the national stage, or those who continued along the intellectual path blazed by one of the discipline’s major figures and thus helped to secure the reputation of that major figure. In the 1890s Leslie Stephen, a pioneer of thoughtful collective biography as first editor of Britain’s Dictionary of National Biography, referred to such people as ‘second-rate’ or even ‘third-rate’ (in various essays from the 1890s cited and discussed in Carter 2019, 63). Stephen cast no moral aspersions by these labels: rather he alluded to the (British) Royal Navy’s rating system for ships, from the large and well-equipped first raters down to smaller, plainer vessels of the sixth rate, or even unrated craft. Just as an effective navy needs ships of all rates, so a worthwhile work of collective biography, Stephen suggests, must go beyond the usual suspects, the first raters, in its choice of subject to include the second- and third-rate people whose inclusion, in Stephen’s view, proves the real worth of collective biography. Their lives would never be explored in a full-length biographical memoir, but they had an interest and importance that could not be adequately conveyed in a brief obituary or death notice. Knowledge of their lives enriches our understanding of the collective being portrayed – in our case geography’s history. Stephen knew that biographers of lesser figures would have to be eclectic, nimble and enterprising in ferreting out and bending to purpose source material that was not compiled with the biographer in view (Stephen 1898, 1:21–2), or perhaps in evaluating material that had been carefully curated with the hagiographer in view. Going beyond the usual suspects in choice of biographical subject entails going beyond the usual suspects of archival practice. For his GBS memoirs Clout has used literary works, reviews in the scholarly and other press, obituaries in newspapers and geographical publications, funeral orations and papers in a large number of archives. Private information has come from oral histories and other interviews, and from

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paper and electronic correspondence which has secured the recollections of doctoral students, family members and colleagues. Biographical fieldwork has taken Clout to many places in France, to Morocco (for forthcoming memoirs on Jean Célérier and a group of French geographers in Rabat), Vietnam (for that on Charles Robequain) and Cambodia (Jean Delvert, forthcoming) to trace where these geographers taught and did their research, and to Canada and Finland for his work on Bill Mead. Navigating such a range of primary sources demands critical acumen and, as Clout describes it, a certain nosiness, plus a good recall of conversations which can illuminate the lives of colleagues or teachers. Alas, searching out little known subjects throws up an additional conundrum for current biographers. As expectations of the quality of images rise relentlessly, finding acceptable likenesses proves ever more difficult – hence the paucity of images in the current volume despite Clout's heroic labours and his and the editors’ frustrations. Family snapshots, headshots carved out of group portraits or other examples of vernacular photography no longer meet the expectations of readers who increasingly look at images online where their ability to enlarge and zoom in on images at the touch of a button cruelly exposes the inadequacies of images made in and for a different age. Such challenges are something to which the editors will return in a forthcoming editorial on biography in a digital age. The skills needed by biographers of the less well known are not only different from those faced by those writing intellectual biographies of major figures with consolidated, wellcatalogued and readily accessible collections of personal papers, and a range of published obituaries. They are also quite different from those used by those historical geographers who systematically investigate a type of data set or a class of map across time, using social science skills – the kind of skills that were prominent in historical geography in the second half of the twentieth century and which Clout himself exercised when he focused on several major data sets for both of his doctoral theses (Clout 1979, 1983). Clout’s methods loosely reflect the wider trends of Anglophone geography in first embracing and then to some extent distancing itself from social science methods (here exemplified by systematic data set analysis) to embrace more humanistic methods (here exemplified by biography). They also, with their close meshing of the historical and the geographical, reflect the traditional approach of French geography.

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Hugh Clout’s contribution to GBS Clout has memorialized both major geographical figures (in this volume David Lowenthal, who was very well known, especially in Anglophone countries) and minor ones (in this volume the short-lived Gaston Gravier). He has memorialized men and women (notably the first three French women geographers to obtain state doctorates (doctorat d’état, the highest academic grade in France prior to the late 1960s) and to become full professors: Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier (whom Clout remembers as having been was very kind and who accepted some of his early pieces for publication in French), Germaine Veyret-Verner (half of the remarkable husband and wife team) and Renée Rochefort (pioneer social geographer), as well as the unique Alice SaunierSeïté with her role in government as well as academia. He has written on those he knew personally as a teacher or colleague (William (Bill) Mead and Eric Brown) and those he did not (Pierre Birot and W. Gordon East); those whose work was formative in his own geographical career (Henry Clifford Darby and Hugh Prince) and those who worked in quite different fields (Eva Taylor and Pierre Monbeig). Despite these universalist tendencies, his memoirs have both a geographical pattern (France and London) and one of period (the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries). To the geographical pattern: the largest class of Clout’s memoirs comprises French geographers, disciples of Paul Vidal de La Blache, for example Jean Brunhes, and members of the next two generations, for example Pierre George and Jean Dresch. Some, such as André Fel and Philippe Pinchemel, Clout knew personally from conferences and meetings; others, such as Raoul Blanchard and Daniel Faucher, he knew through their regional monographs covering parts of France or territories beyond ‘the hexagon’ (that is, French territory on the European mainland) (Clout 2009h, 2011c). These regional monographs were written as dissertations for the award of a state doctorate. Others, such as Marcel Dubois and Jacques Levainville, he knew only by name before starting his biographical investigations. Clout’s interest includes Parisian figures (Aimé Perpillou and Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier) but also people from France beyond Paris (Paul Veyret of Grenoble or René Musset of Normandy) and former French colonies (Jean Célérier from Morocco and Charles Robequain of Indochina). The second geographical concentration is Britain and specifically

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the University of London and within that University College London (UCL) – one of the oldest and most distinguished geography departments in Britain and arguably the world, and Clout’s intellectual home from undergraduate days. Notwithstanding those two clear geographical concentrations, Clout’s memoirs also include the geographically rather peripatetic (Jean Gottmann the cosmopolite) and those who had intellectual interests beyond London and France (UCL colleagues Bill Mead, a Nordic specialist, and David Lowenthal with his interest in the West Indies). To period: most of Clout’s biographical subjects worked primarily in the twentieth century, while only Marcel Dubois made geographical contributions in the nineteenth. This is in large part an artefact of the type of geographer whom Clout memorializes: university geographers. He has also written memoirs of those working outside universities, for example, Abel Chatelain (forthcoming) (a very productive social geographer, but one not based in a university) or Jacques Levainville (a soldier and businessman rather than a university teacher), and many of his subjects had other careers during the two world wars of the century (in intelligence, resistance or the armed services), or worked partly in geography-related policy areas (Alice Saunier-Seïté in educational policy, for example, or Jean Gottmann in urban planning) or spanned school teaching and university teaching in the French manner (e.g. Daniel Faucher, André Meynier and Alice Saunier-Seïté, among others). The great majority of Clout’s biographical subjects have, however, made their mark solely or primarily as university geographers, and thus they reflect the fact that geography was established as a university discipline at the end of the nineteenth century and consolidated in the twentieth. Given the period Clout covers, establishing or building up university departments looms large in the lives of his subjects: UCL graduate Stanley Beaver’s lasting memorial is the geography department at the University of Keele, and, for all his work to bring the Nordic countries to the knowledge of Anglophones, it is likely that Bill Mead made his mark most in enabling his geographical colleagues at UCL to flourish. Biographies of subsequent generations of geographers who worked within already-established departments and had more research-focused and perhaps mobile careers will tell different stories, but Clout’s memoirs allow readers to appreciate the tenacity and diplomacy and sometimes the hard headedness which are needed to establish the institutions which academic

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geography needs in order to flourish. The period covered by Clout also means that the impact of the International Geographical Union (IGU, established 1922) and the International Geographical Congresses (IGCs, from 1871, but most importantly in the twentieth century) is well documented (Kish 1992). (Interestingly the detailed history of the IGU and IGCs by Robic, Briend and Rossler (1992) was reviewed by Clout in The Geographical Journal in 1997). While earlier geographers lacked such professional organizations and fora, and later geographers have abundant options for professional gatherings, national and international, general and specialist, many of Clout’s geographers found particular encouragement from the IGU and IGCs. They in turn have contributed much to it. When geographer Olav Slaymaker wrote ‘In praise of the International Geographical Union’ in 2019 for all that it had contributed to his intellectual development and social life, he was expressing sentiments which many of Clout’s geographers might have echoed – and fittingly Slaymaker’s eyes were opened as to the value of the IGU by one of Clout’s subjects: Jean Dresch. We use this editorial to reflect on Clout’s own life and how it has affected the intellectual biographies he has written, and in turn to use those reflections to address broader questions of biography as a tool for recording geography’s past and helping our understanding of its present.

Hugh Clout’s life and lives The links between Clout’s choice of biographical subject and his own life are clear, as is the link between his lived life and the tone of his published lives. The most obvious link is to the choice of subject, where two characteristics emerge clearly: Clout’s intellectual interest in and love of France and his loyalty to the geography department at UCL, the two being linked. Clout’s love of France can readily be traced to events in his own life. His early studies in French language and literature in the sixth form (the last two years of high school) led on to an interest in the landscape, history and culture of France, in whose historical and contemporary geography Clout’s chosen university of UCL had a keen interest. Recent UCL scholars who have worked on France include Hugh Prince (see Geographers 34), Alan Baker, Keith Sutton, Anthony Phillips, Iain Stevenson

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and Penelope Woolf, as well as Clout himself. Clout studied French regional geography courses for his BA, MPhil (thesis on the historical geography of the Pays de Bray, 1968) and PhD degrees (thesis on the historical geography of French agriculture c. 1840, 1979), all from the University of London. Clout also took a small doctorat de l’université (Université de Paris I, 1983) on land use in nineteenth-century France, an experience which gives him an alertness to the sometimes arcane workings and terminology of the French university system from which his biographical work has benefited. It is a pleasure here to report that in 2004 he was made a docteur honoris causa by the Université de Paris IV–Sorbonne for his sustained writing on the geography of France. UCL was the place where Clout taught for forty years, and from where, since October 2006, as emeritus professor he has continued to publish on reconstruction in France after both world wars (Clout 2006, 2008, 2009, 2011g, 2011h, 2013, 2017). Throughout his academic life Clout has served and continues to serve on the boards of various French journals and other bodies. Like his familiarity with the French thesis system, Clout’s familiarity with French academic and publishing life helps him avoid traps in his biographical writing. The UCL geography department’s French interests were linked to its emphasis on regional geography that was the keystone of the University of London federal geography syllabus until the later 1960s. It gave priority to the British Isles, a selected region of continental Europe, and another major part of the world. The generally preferred European region at UCL was France, French at that time being the most widely taught modern foreign language in British schools – Clout’s among them. Proximity also made France the continental European destination of choice for many Britons on holiday or on geography field trips. During Clout’s undergraduate years at UCL the head of department was (Henry) Clifford Darby (reg. 1949–66), whose compulsory third-year course on Methods in Geography required each student to study a regional monograph (in French or German) and then write a paper on it. The UCL library has an excellent collection of French regional monographs, built up by Arthur Smailes, Darby and Hugh Prince, and later by Clout himself. Clout, relishing the chance to use his French, chose Jules Sion’s 1909 work Les paysans de la Normandie orientale – an area Clout had visited in person and through the archive at the end of his first year. (Neatly, Sion appears later in this volume as an adviser to Maurice Le Lannou.) In retrospect, Clout sees

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this as his first exposure to the biographical approach as he could see the particular contribution of an author in illuminating an area. Hugh Prince’s teaching in the historical geography of France at UCL also introduced a biographical note, by directing students to influential authors such as Marc Bloch and Roger Dion. Darby employed two young French academics to help him draw up bibliographies about French historical geography. Organized by author, these helped impress on at least the more receptive students the impact of individuals on the discipline. While still an MPhil student Clout was appointed assistant lecturer in UCL’s geography department to take over the teaching of contemporary and historical France. Head of department Bill Mead was adept at finding appropriate people to fit teaching specific elements of the syllabus. He favoured area studies and historical geography so Clout was a good fit. This appointment further consolidated Clout’s interest in and knowledge of the country. The second way in which Clout’s life affects his biographical memoirs is that he presents his subjects with a generosity of spirit: his memoirs record among other things the contribution of those who found themselves in difficult circumstances which reduced their output, limited their practical opportunities, soured their temper, cramped their intellectual imagination or all four. The effects of the two world wars in particular are evident in many of Clout’s memoirs, explaining interruption of careers, physical or mental scarring, forced relocation of departments or individuals, shortage of money for individuals or universities or the closing off of research areas. The article on husband and wife Veyret is perhaps a good example of this: cut off in Grenoble in Vichy France they faced deprivation and isolation in the war. That on David Lowenthal is another: German speaking and with an obviously German name, he had a hard time in the latter stages of the Second World War in north-eastern France, an area that had been occupied by the Nazis. Similarly, Hugh Prince did his national service in Germany and in his final years often talked about the hardship he had faced and seen there. As Clout explains, war service puts a different complexion on subsequent intellectual achievements. Again, it is possible to trace the roots of this generosity and sensitivity to circumstance in Clout’s own life. For Clout’s father (Donald) military service and injury in the First World War proved to be turning points (not all bad in this case, as they led to his meeting his wife Florence), while

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his mother came from a family whose lack of means closed doors which her intelligence, interest and early education might otherwise have opened. These things left him alert to and a generous interpreter of the practical constraints on people’s careers and lives. Clout’s sensitivity has not led him to shy away from difficult matters in his biographies but rather to explore them sympathetically. Perhaps this is shown most clearly in his work on Darby, of whom Clout admits that he was ‘rather scared’ (interview 27 Nov 2019) but whose achievements and influence Clout readily acknowledges. Clout’s memoir of Darby in GBS considers how Darby was affected by his modest background (the son of a mining engineer, Darby had to work unremittingly as an undergraduate at King’s College, Cambridge, to prove himself) and by his difficulty in speaking certain words (he carefully timed and rehearsed lectures and other public appearances to keep control). Clout tells a hidden story of insecurity which underlay Darby’s reputation as kingmaker – a process he describes as ‘refreshing’ but needing discretion. Similarly, Clout did not shy away from revealing that Darby’s former students Robin Glasscock, Alan Baker and John Sheail were largely left to their own devices when researching their doctorates. Similar sensitivity was needed in writing Bill Mead’s GBS memoir. Mead left many personal papers, not least on the subject of his doctoral thesis. Clout’s GBS memoir tells for the first time the fact that Mead’s doctoral dissertation – written during wartime when its author was serving in the Royal Air Force – was initially referred (that is, deemed to need revision and resubmission). Alongside the warm tributes to Mead from Nordic friends and colleagues, Clout’s biography also recorded prickly reviews by Nordic colleagues of Mead’s work, resentful perhaps that an outsider was intruding on their patch. As with all biographical work, judgements have to be made about how much to publish and Clout manages sensitively to broach difficult topics. There are also some questions which remain unanswered: for example, whether Bill Mead was doing more in Canada during the Second World War than his official account conveys. One should not of course overstate the extent to which life determines work. Clout’s writing on France has been characterized primarily by his interest in the rural landscape, and France beyond Paris. By contrast Clout’s own professional and personal life has been entirely based in London and its suburbs. He was born into a north London home in Wood Green, with a Londoner for

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a mother and a Kentish father who settled in the capital. His schooling was local at St Michael’s Church of England Junior School and Southgate County Grammar School (secondary school of an academic nature), both in Palmers Green, north London. He chose education and a teaching career at UCL in central London and part of the old federal University of London. The contrast between life and intellectual interest is striking. Clout’s interest in biography as a mode of writing sprang not from a methodological Damascene moment which revealed the importance of focusing on individuals as opposed to societies at large, but rather from a sequence of fortuitous events building on his sensitivity to historical method – plus the general circumstance that as people age they become obvious candidates when obituarists or institutional historians are sought. For Clout the turning point came in 2001 when he drafted an obituary for his friend and colleague Frank Carter, but more especially as UCL approached 2003, the centenary of continuous geography teaching at the college. (From 1833 to 1836 Alexander Maconochie (formerly M’Konochie) (1787–1860) was professor of geography at UCL, occupying the first geography post in the country, but geography teaching at the college lapsed when he left just three years later (Selby and Driver 2004).) Clout was asked by the head of department at UCL, Peter Wood, to take on the task of recording the department’s history. As an historical geographer and long-serving departmental member, he was in some respects an obvious choice. His research had been on historical themes and made him at home in the archive rather than in the field (though his teaching had seen him lead numerous field trips to France). The methodological continuity should not, however, be overstated: Clout’s research before 2003 addressed very different questions: landscapes, reconstruction after war, or groups of people, rather than individuals; and his research addressed France, rather than Britain. In particular, oral history was a new methodological departure as Clout sought views from contemporaries and people in the generation before him about their experience of the department and their departmental colleagues (Clout 2003f, 2), with the result that his booklet, ‘Geography at University College London: A Brief History to Commemorate One Hundred Years of Teaching Geography’ (2003), had a heavily historical emphasis, while a complementary booklet by colleague Wood focused on research activities and achievements in recent years (Wood 2003).

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The compilation of the centenary volume led Clout for the first time to exploit the potential of the biographical method in historical geographical enquiry. Clout chose to organize the volume biographically, around the three formative heads of department: Lionel Lyde (1903–28), Charles Bungay Fawcett (1928– 49) and Henry Clifford Darby (1949–66). It was informed by biographical and autobiographical oral history, notably from Eric Brown, Tony French, Jim Johnson, Bill Mead and Hugh Prince, and Clout found himself a repository for biographical manuscripts as he was given or discovered papers relating to geography’s history from Lady Darby, H. C. Darby’s widow, Stanley Beaver and others. These documents are now housed in the archive of the Department of Geography at UCL that Clout assembled. He also consolidated its collection of papers and photographs. Two articles emerged from photographs and postcards, dealing with UCL fieldclasses at Montpellier in southern France, and the colonial exhibition held in Paris in 1931, coinciding with the 10th IGC (Clout 2005c; Clout and Stevenson 2004). The UCL centenary book project, and the accumulation, consolidation and knowledge of UCL archival material, led to other biographical writing, notably of colleagues and friends. Clout was approached by, for example, the Royal Geographical Society when obituaries had to be written (for example, of Anne Buttimer); by the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography when short but enduring and much-consulted lives of geographers were needed (of Francis William Carter, C. B. Fawcett, Lionel Lyde, Michael Williams, Gerald Manners, Tony Chandler and Bill Mead); and by the British Academy when lengthy memoirs of academicians were needed (of Terry Coppock, Jean Gottmann, Michael Williams, Bill Mead, David Harris and David Lowenthal). GBS was an obvious beneficiary of Clout’s interest in biographical memorialization of colleagues (for all of these biographies, see the consolidated lists at the end of this editorial). In these biographical endeavours the link between Clout’s life and work is often clear since he knew many of those he wrote on, the link being most obvious in the case of British Academy memoirs. Like the Royal Society, the British Academy commemorates its dead, but prefers that authors drawn from its fellowship write the memoirs. Clout’s election to the British Academy in 1997 thus led on to authorship of six biographical memoirs in the academy’s publications. (Until recently the editor of the British Academy memoir series was Ron Johnston, geographer and contributor to GBS.) Just as he has uncovered new facts in his GBS work,

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Clout has made new discoveries in his wider biographical work: when writing about fellow academician (John Terence) Terry Coppock (1921–2000), his old tutor, Clout used Coppock’s letters from Africa to Bill Mead to reveal a hitherto unremarked phase of Coppock’s life (Clout 2002a). Clout also contributed biographical pieces to other volumes, commemorative and otherwise. One such was a piece about French geographers during the Second World War for the Journal of Historical Geography (2015), which made detailed use of material that Clout had assembled for GBS essays, but the most important of the last was perhaps the volume on Darby entitled The Relations of History and Geography (2002) which, at the instigation of Darby’s widow, brought together previously unpublished seminar notes, with contextual essays, including one by Clout on Darby and French geography. Clout’s 2002 essay on Darby sprang from a focus on Darby himself but stimulated an interest in French biographical research. Intrigued by Darby’s meeting in Paris in 1931 with Albert Demangeon, Clout wondered if Darby’s ‘changing cultural landscape’ approach to historical geography and his move away from a type of economic history with maps could be dated to the mid1930s and could have been stimulated by Demangeon’s earlier adoption of that approach. Research into that question, while ultimately unresolved, led to contacts with the Demangeon/Perpillou family and the discovery of an archive of letters sent to Demangeon before and during the First World War. That collection in turn led Clout to publish two articles about Demangeon. Further biographical impetus came with the unlooked-for arrival at UCL of Cyril Gosme, an exchange student on the European Union’s ERASMUS (European Region Action Scheme for the Mobility of University Students) scheme, who was studying for a master’s degree at the Université de Paris IV. Clout directed him to the Admiralty (or Naval) Intelligence Handbooks, regional compendia assembled at Oxford and Cambridge during the Second World War to equip service personnel with vital information about any theatre of war where they found themselves. In their joint work on the handbooks Clout worked particularly on the network of authors working under Darby at Cambridge and Kenneth Mason at Oxford, something which the papers from Eva Darby mentioned above helped to illuminate. Clout continued his practice of oral history by making contact with and interviewing a number of the surviving contributors.

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A final impetus to biography came in the form of Clout’s retirement from the department in October 2006. Many in retirement take up biography perforce, as friends and colleagues die and need to be memorialized. Clout, however, relished the challenge which has been an enjoyable and practicable pursuit with no need to seek research grants or purchase expensive equipment.

Clout and the bio(biblio)graphical form Clout began his biographical work fortuitously, and candidly admits that he does not regularly read biography – something that leaves him without prescriptive views of the genre. Nonetheless, he has developed into a thoughtful exponent of it and one who has both used its grammar to find a way of commenting on wider topics (the dominance of Paris in French life for example, or the difficulties of establishing a university department or trends in geographical research) and has challenged its grammar when the need arose. As well as writing individual memoirs on numerous people, for GBS Clout has written family memoirs on husband and wife (the Veyrets), father and son (Gaston and Jean-François Gravier, Charles and Jean Delvert), father and daughter (Pierre and Myriem Foncin) when their careers seemed to demand that format. He has branched into prosopography with GBS articles on the Clermont-Ferrand geographers (a piece that came out of summers researching in ClermontFerrand and Clout’s friendship with André Fel) and on geographers in Rabat (a spin-off from Clout’s reading Célérier’s many publications on the geography of Morocco). He sees these new biographical forms pragmatically, that is, as a common sense way to deal with particular people, rather than a methodological stance or a deeper comment on the way in which societies or disciplines are formed and organized. Nonetheless, his approach has helped to address some of the enduring difficulties of collective biography. One such is how to memorialize those who die young. Collective biographies are generally wary of including such people: they allot space according to achievement or influence, which are to a certain extent objectively verifiable and therefore agreeable, and not according to promise which is necessarily a matter of speculation and therefore dissent. In consequence such collective works inadequately portray not only individual young people cut off in their prime but also the societal

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phenomenon of mass loss in periods scarred by war. The First World War with its very high death toll for many European nations and their empires had less impact on geography than on many other walks of life, simply because the discipline was then relatively small and poorly developed; but Clout serves the history of geography well by memorializing war casualty Gaston Gravier in a prelude to his son’s article as a representative of those whose geographical careers were cut short by war but who might have become influential in the discipline. The article symbolizes collective loss and tells a small but important story in the discipline’s history. Clout’s family and collective articles have similarly helped to push GBS into more innovative and more flexible directions. He describes the classic GBS remit as ‘a bit constraining’, whereas the Proceedings of the British Academy gave ‘a free rein in terms of structure’, and this freedom added to his pleasure of writing on deceased colleagues. The recent flexibility of GBS as to length, format and number of subjects included has for Clout been liberating and an incentive to contribute further biographies. Clout sees GBS and biographies of geographers in general as the corollary and complement to their published work. Interestingly, he became familiar with the biobibliographical approach before he undertook straight biography, and the two sides of biography and bibliography continue to interest him. He realizes in retrospect that Darby and Prince were steering students towards a biobibliographical understanding in their teaching in the 1960s by requiring them to focus on individual geographers through the medium of reading and analysing a monograph. This was part of a geographical methods course – though Clout regrets that students were not steered to obituaries or other biographical material which would have helped their understanding of geographers and the biobibliographical approach. Similarly, Clout’s more recent role in requiring UCL geography undergraduates to interview their teachers was intended to point out the relationship between the personal and the professional, the life and the work, and to impress on students the fact that research is something created by a human individual. Some students found this revealing, others not, but it was an interesting experiment in putting biobibliography at the heart of geographical methods teaching. The impact of digitization on the biography form is a large topic which we hope to address in a later editorial in GBS, but Clout notes the effect of

Hugh Clout and geography’s stories

15

digitization from the point of view of the biographer. Digitized material has, among other things, made it readily possible to consult early book reviews and publications, making it possible to assess the contemporary reception of subjects’ works as well as their longer term impact. Compared with early GBS essays, the focus in Clout’s later lives on critical reception of the subjects’ publications is noticeable.

What has been done, and what remains to be done? Clout retired in October 2006 but retained an office at UCL which he shared with Hugh Prince who had a lively interest in geographers as people and in their writings. Prince had an encyclopaedic knowledge of British, American and to some extent French geographers and Clout considers Prince’s judicious comments greatly to have enhanced his biographical work, including that for GBS. It is easy to see from the table of lives Clout has written for GBS (2005– present) that his very significant contribution has been largely one made in retirement. Nor, as we note above and list below, is it over. For this sustained and substantial GBS project Clout has thus far sought out individuals who either produced enough in their own right or who had a train of doctoral students numerous enough to have had an impact on the discipline. Another fruitful line of enquiry, and one that produced some group articles, was to look at major geography departments in France: Clermont-Ferrand, via its first five professors of geography (Philippe Arbos, Lucien Gachon, Max Derruau, Pierre Estienne and André Fel), or Grenoble, intellectual home to Raoul Blanchard and Paul Veyret and Germaine Veyret-Verner. These were departments substantial enough to have in themselves an intellectual trajectory worth recording or which attracted and retained individuals who made an interesting contribution to the subject. In most provinces geography departments were sometimes so small that it is difficult to say that they made a distinctive contribution per se, though this is not to belittle the research and particularly the teaching of the geographers who worked in them. Indeed geographical enquiries beyond the obvious centres have been the subject of Clout’s innovative enquiries based around the regional monographs that were submitted as doctoral dissertations and which were

16

Geographers

such a distinctive part of the French geographical tradition. The first enquiry (2009h) explored the first one hundred geographical monographs written as major theses (thèses principales) and examining regions within France. It was complemented by the second (2011c) which looked at the production and reception of a further one hundred monographs relating to regions beyond metropolitan France.

GBS volume 39 The volume of GBS which this editorial introduces has as its first chapter a memoir of David Lowenthal, born in America but active in Britain. Clout describes him as a geographical ‘superstar’, and confesses that he and others ‘were all scared of him – scared of his erudition’. Over a remarkably long and productive career he produced a diverse but critically acclaimed output, continuing to publish major books into retirement, and attracting an intellectual following among historians and being credited with having founded heritage studies. It is ironic that one of the best-known Anglophone geographers of recent years is not best known as a geographer. Lowenthal was known to Clout, having been employed at UCL for thirteen years. His impact at UCL was made largely by furthering its international reputation for innovative scholarship. In terms of teaching and administration, however, he contributed rather idiosyncratically. He was a brilliant lecturer but had just one completing doctoral student in his UCL years, and was excused the normal round of administrative duties. His largely research-based contribution to the department at UCL was thus very different from that of Eric Brown, whose memoir follows Lowenthal’s. Clout describes Brown as a ‘faithful servant’ to geography, UCL and the Royal Geographical Society (RGS). In contrast to Lowenthal, Brown had a very large number of graduate students for the time (thirty-five) and his students spoke warmly of his support in the field. He also served on a wide variety of college and RGS committees. Both Lowenthal and Brown worked at UCL under the headship of the unique and idiosyncratic Bill Mead, but each made a very different contribution. The focus then moves across the English Channel to a cluster of French geographers, first to Maurice Le Lannou, a Breton by origin and an expert on

Hugh Clout and geography’s stories

17

Sardinia by choice. After wartime experience he became head of department at the University of Lyon and eventually one of the very few French geographers to hold a chair at the prestigious Collège de France (an institution that commissions academics to give lectures but has no official students and does not award degrees). Le Lannou was a skilled and passionate exponent of the type of regional geography that is intimately bound up with history, and was perhaps one of the last generation to hold unswervingly to the regional monograph as geography’s proper and distinctive medium. The chapter following Le Lannou’s is a memorial to Renée Rochefort, one of two women geographers in this volume, who was Le Lannou’s pupil at the University of Lyon and later his colleague there. Le Lannou left his doctoral students largely to their own devices, but Rochefort survived this, and considerable prejudice as a woman, not least from Le Lannou, to become a pioneer social geographer, hosting the first French national colloquium on social geography. Little remembered despite her pioneering work, Rochefort deserves a retrospect. Clout’s chapter is an important memorial and one that points to the value of interviews and personal recollection in recording the lives of those whose contribution was little noticed in the professional press at the time of death. Rochefort’s biography is followed by a two-generation family biography featuring father and son Gaston and Jean-François Gravier. Clout had come across Gaston while working in the Demangeon letter archive in his earlier research on Darby. The archive included moving letters from parents of Demangeon’s students who had been killed in the First World War. One casualty was Gaston Gravier, who was working on the little-researched region of Serbia, but who was killed in Artois at about the same time as his son Jean-François was born. The son became a very famous proponent of spatial planning in post-war France after an earlier career that involved his association with various far-right organizations. His post-war career saw him working for several ministries and he wrote Paris et le désert français (1947) which became the ‘bible’ for regional development in France in the 1950s and 1960s. Jean-François moved to a formal academic post quite late in his career and had no doctoral following, but he provides a good example of the debt which planning in post-war France owed to geographers and to the legacy of regional geography. This chapter reveals discontinuities as well as continuities of French geography: spatial planning (l’aménagement du

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territoire) in the Gravier manner provoked profound scepticism in Le Lannou, who was never persuaded that geography was an applied subject, and who remained unconvinced by the merits of ‘progress’. Similarly Le Lannou’s pupil Rochefort pointed to the shortcomings of the technocratic aménagement du territoire approach, which could have unintended consequences such as racial segregation, or which failed to address some of the quotidian realities which deeply affected ordinary people caught up in planning decisions. Another two-generation article completes the volume: that on father and daughter Pierre and Myriem Foncin. Pierre takes the time period back to the end of nineteenth century and captures something of the movement in favour of training in geography in the spirit of Vidal de La Blache. A textbook writer and inspector of education, he put down the flag of geography in school studies. One of his two daughters, Myriem, went on to be map librarian at Bibliothèque Nationale in the 1950s and 1960s. She planned to write a state doctorate on the history of Paris, but professional librarianship took over and she never completed the thesis. Her contribution to the discipline has echoes of the career of Helen Wallis of the British Museum/Library (Geographers 38). The selection of chapters for GBS 39 thus reveals a variety of themes which Clout has explored over the years: the importance of institutions – his own department of UCL above all others in his life and work; the importance of family, with the parent and child relationships explored here complementing husband and wife partnerships recorded elsewhere; the complexity of teacher– pupil relationships, with Wooldridge–Brown, Le Lannou–Rochefort the examples here; the tropes of brilliant individual scholar (Lowenthal), selfless teacher (Rochefort), dutiful departmental servant (Brown) and geographer beyond the institutional confines of academic geography (Jean-François Gravier and Myriem Foncin). Jointly and severally the biographies here and in other GBS volumes past and to come reveal Clout’s sense of responsibility to the past, and his determination to record the past faithfully as a guard against what he sees present tendencies to misrepresent or ignore it. They show his profound sense that history and geography should not be separated, as well as revealing his love of France and ready recognition of the contribution of colleagues. It is a pleasure to devote this volume to his lives, and to use it to explore his own life.

Hugh Clout and geography’s stories

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Lives by Hugh Clout in Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies (as at March 2021) 2005

‘Lucien Gallois (1857–1941)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 24, 28–41.

2006

‘Jean Brunhes (1869–1930)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 25, 1–12.

2006

(with R. J. Johnston and P. Hall) ‘Jean Gottmann (1915–94)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 25, 42–59.

2007

‘Henry Clifford Darby (1909–92)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 26, 79–97.

2008

‘Maximilien Sorre (1880–1962)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 27, 93–106.

2009

‘Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier (1917–95)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 28, 131–46.

2010

‘Pierre George (1909–2006)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 29, 35–56.

2010

‘Philippe Pinchemel (1923–2008)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 29, 57–72.

2011

‘Lionel Lyde (1863–1947)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 30, 1–21.

2011

‘Marcel Dubois (1856–1916)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 30, 134–51.

2011

‘André Siegfried (1875–1959)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 30, 152–74.

2011

‘Pierre Deffontaines (1894–1978)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 30, 175–97.

2012

(with A. Maddrell) ‘Eva Germaine Rimington Taylor (1879–1966)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 1–29.

2012

‘Aimé Vincent Perpillou (1902–76)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 56–63.

2012

‘Two Vidalians: Antoine Vacher (1873–1920) and René Musset (1881–1977)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 64–80.

2012

‘Jean Dresch (1905–94)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 81–103.

2012

‘André Cholley (1886–1968)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 104–18.

2012

‘Daniel Faucher (1882–1970)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 31, 119–36.

2013

‘Raoul Blanchard (1877–1970)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 32, 6–32.

2013

‘Emmanuel de Margerie (1862–1963)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 32, 33–53.

2013

‘Pierre Monbeig (1908–87)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 32, 54–78.

2013

‘Charles Robequain (1897–1963)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 32, 79–103.

Geographers

20 2014

‘Jean Tricart (1920–2003)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 33, 11–41.

2014

‘André Guilcher (1913–93)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 33, 43–68.

2015

‘Pierre Birot (1909–84)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 34, 11–35.

2015

‘Hugh Counsell Prince (1927–2013)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 34, 63–95.

2016

‘David Russell Harris (1930–2013)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 35,

2016

‘The Vidalian Géographie Universelle: Five scholars on the fringes of the French

33–62. university world’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 35, 63–93. 2016

‘William Gordon East (1902–98)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 35, 121–44.

2016

‘Jacques Levainville (1869–1932)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 35, 163–83.

2017 (with

M.

Jones)

‘William

Richard

Mead

(1915–2014)’,

Geographers:

Biobibliographical Studies, 36, 89–128. 2017

‘Stanley Henry Beaver (1907–84)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 36,

2017

‘André Meynier (1901–83)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 36, 181–207.

129–56. 2017

‘The first five professors of geography at Clermont-Ferrand. Philippe Arbos (1882–1956), Lucien Gachon (1894–1984), Max Derruau (1920–2004), Pierre Estienne (1923–96), André Fel (1926–2009)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 36, 209–49.

2018

‘Paul Veyret (1912–88) and Germaine Veyret-Verner (1913–73)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 37, 105–32.

2019

‘Alice Saunier-Seïté (1925–2003)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 38, 137–63.

2021

‘David Lowenthal (1923–2018)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 27–75.

2021

‘Eric Herbert Brown (1922–2018)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 77–107.

2021

‘Maurice Le Lannou (1906–92)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 109–41.

2021

‘Renée Rochefort (1924–2012)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 143–67.

2021 ‘Gaston Gravier (1886–1915) and Jean-François Gravier (1915–2005)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 169–206. 2021

‘Pierre Foncin (1841–1916) and Myriem Foncin (1893–1976)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies, 39, 207–35.

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Forthcoming ‘Charles Delvert (1879–1940) and Jean Delvert (1921–2005)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘French geography in Morocco during the French Protectorate: the life and legacy of Jean Célérier (1887–1962)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘French geographers in Morocco around the time of national independence’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘William George Victor Balchin (1916–2007)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘Abel Chatelain (1910–71)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘François de Dainville SJ (1909–71)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘Marcel Roncayolo (1926–2018)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘Georges Chabot (1890–1975)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘Alfred Grandidier (1836–1921) and Guillaume Grandidier (1873–1957): Explorers of Madagascar and geographers in Paris’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘François Jean Gay (1922–2018)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies. Forthcoming ‘Armand Frémont (1933–2019)’, Geographers: Biobibliographical Studies.

Other wholly or partly biographical publications by Hugh Clout 2001 ‘Francis Carter: master geographer’, Guardian, 9 May. 2002a ‘John Terence Coppock, 1921–2000’, Proceedings of the British Academy 115, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows, 207–24. 2002b ‘H. C. Darby and the historical geography of France’, in H. C. Darby et al., The Relations of History and Geography. Exeter: Exeter University Press, 131–45, 256–63. 2003a ‘In the shadow of Vidal de La Blache: Letters to Albert Demangeon and the social dynamics of French geography in the early twentieth century’, Journal of Historical Geography 29, 336–55. 2003b ‘Albert Demangeon, 1872–1940: Pioneer of la Géographie Humaine’, Scottish Geographical Journal 119, 1–24.

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2003c ‘The Géographie Universelle … but which Géographie Universelle?’, Annales de Géographie 112, 563–82. 2003d ‘Visions of la géographie humaine in twentieth-century France’, Geographical Review 93, 370–93. 2003e (with C. Gosme) ‘The Naval Intelligence Handbooks: A monument in geographical writing’, Progress in Human Geography 27, 153–73. 2003f Geography at University College London: A Brief History to Commemorate One Hundred Years of Teaching Geography. London: University College London. 2003g (with P. G. Hall) ‘Jean Gottmann 1915–1994’, Proceedings of the British Academy 120, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows, 201–15. 2004a ‘Lessons from experience: French geographers and the transcontinental excursion of 1912’, Progress in Human Geography 28, 597–618. 2004b (with F. J. Gay) ‘De la géographie à l’action: Jacques Levainville, militaire, géographe et homme d’affaires’, Etudes Normandes 53, 51–60. 2004c (with W. I. Stevenson) ‘Jules Sion, Alan Grant Ogilvie and the College des Ecossais in Montpellier: A network of geographers’, Scottish Geographical Journal 120, 181–98. 2005a ‘Cross-Channel geographers: A century of activity’, Cybergeo: Revue européenne de géographie 330, 1–24, https://doi.org/10.4000/cybergeo.2966. 2005b ‘Les influences françaises sur la géographie britannique. Les enseignements et les écrits de H.C. Darby’, in P. Boulanger and J.-R. Trochet (eds), Où en est la géographie historique?. Paris: L’Harmattan, 77–88. 2005c ‘Geographers in their ivory tower: Academic geography and popular geography in Paris 1931’, Geografiska Annaler 87B, 15–29. 2005d ‘Francis William Carter 1938–2001: An appreciation’, in D. Turnock (ed.), Foreign Direct Investment and Regional Development in East Central Europe and the Former Soviet Union. Aldershot: Ashgate, xxvii–xxxvii. 2007a ‘Richard Munton: Geographer and rural geographer’, in H. Clout (ed.), Contemporary Rural Geographies: Land, Property and Resources in Britain. London: Routledge, 189–99. 2007b ‘Jean Gottmann comme messager transatlantique’, La Géographie 1523bis, 249–59. 2008a ‘Popular geographies and scholarly geographies in provincial France: The Société Normande de Géographie’, Journal of Historical Geography 33, 22–47. 2008b ‘Popular geographies in a French port city: The experience of the Le Havre Society of Commercial Geography, 1884–1948’, Scottish Geographical Journal 124, 53–77. 2009a ‘Popularising geography in France’s second city: The role of the Société de Géographie de Lyon, 1873–1968’, Cybergeo: European Journal of Geography 449, 1–20, https://doi.org/10.4000/cybergeo.22214.

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2009b (with B. W. Atkinson) ‘Professor T. J. Chandler’, Geographical Journal 175, 82–3. 2009c (with T. Oke) ‘T. J. Chandler’, Weather 64, 53–4. 2009d (with P. Wood) ‘Gerald Manners’, Guardian, 5 June. 2009e (with P. Wood) ‘Gerald Manners 1932–2009’, Regions 274, 34. 2009f ‘Gerald Manners’, Royal Geographical Society with IBG, https://www.rgs.org/ RGS/media/RGS-Media-Library/Geography/Gerald-Manners-Obituary.pdf. 2009g ‘Gerald Manners’, Progress in Human Geography 33, https://journals.sagepub. com/doi/pdf/10.1177/03091325090330062001. 2009h Patronage and the production of geographical knowledge in France. The testimony of the first hundred regional monographs, 1905–1966. London, RGS/IBG, Historical Geography Research Series 41. 2010a ‘Professor Michael Williams’, Geographical Journal 176, 111–14. 2010b (with J. Salt) ‘Professor J. H. Johnson’, Geographical Journal 176, 105–7. 2010c ‘Relire Roger Dion’, in J.-R. Pitte (ed.), Le Bon Vin: entre terroir, savoir-faire et savoir-boire. Paris: CNRS, 3–13. 2010d ‘Jacques Levainville: A Vidalian by adoption’, in Les Passions d’un historien: Mélanges Jean-Pierre Poussou, R. Abad (ed.). Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris– Sorbonne, 1767–78. 2011a ‘Geographical pioneers in Lyon, 1874–1929’, Géocarrefour 86, 161–71. 2011b ‘Michael Williams, 1935–2009’, Proceedings of the British Academy 172, 355–75. 2011c ‘Professorial patronage and the formation of French geographical knowledge. A bio-bibliographical exploration of one hundred non-metropolitan regional monographs, 1893–1969’, Cybergeo: European Journal of Geography 549, 1–36, https://doi.org/10.4000/cybergeo.24203. 2011d ‘Carter, Francis William [Frank] (1938–2001)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2011e ‘Fawcett, Charles Bungay (1883–1952)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2011f ‘Lyde, Lionel William (1863–1947)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2012a ‘French geographers under international gaze: Regional excursions for the XIIIth International Geographical Congress, 1931’, Belgeo 2012 (1–2), https:/doi. org/10.4000/belgeo.6248. 2012b ‘Chandler, Tony John (1928–2008)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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2013a ‘Manners, Gerald (1932–2009)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2013b ‘Williams, Michael (1935–2009)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2013c (with C. Vita-Finzi) ‘Tony French’, Guardian online, 3 February, https://www. theguardian.com/theguardian/2013/feb/03/tony-french-obituary. 2013d ‘Hugh Counsell Prince’, Journal of Historical Geography 41, 82–5. 2013e ‘Hugh Counsell Prince’, Geographical Journal 179, 382–83. 2015a ‘William Richard Mead, 1915–2014’, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows of the British Academy 14, 383–408. 2015b ‘French geographers and geography in wartime and German occupation, 1939–1945’, Journal of Historical Geography 47, 16–28. 2015c ‘William Richard Mead’, Geographical Journal 181, 185–6. 2016 ‘Ed Soja, winner of the Vautrin–Lud International Prize, 2015’, Finisterra 51, 143–6. 2017a ‘Anne Buttimer’, Geographical Journal 183, 455–6. 2017b (with S. Shennan) ‘David Harris, 1930–2013’, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows of the British Academy, 363–85. 2018a ‘David Lowenthal’, Guardian online, 27 September, https://www.theguardian. com/culture/2018/sep/27/david-lowenthal-obituary. 2018b ‘David Lowenthal’, Historical Geography Research Group Newsletter (Autumn), 7–8. 2018c ‘Eric Herbert Brown’, Geographical Journal 184, 215–6. 2018d ‘Mead, William Richard (Bill) (1915–2014)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2019a ‘David Lowenthal’, Geographical Journal 185, 127–8. 2019b (with T. Barnes) ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018’, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows of the British Academy 18, 337–64. 2020 ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018, renowned academic and public intellectual’, Landscape Research (accepted).

Other works by Hugh Clout cited in the text 1997 ‘Review of Géographes Face au Monde: L’Union Géographique Internationale et les Congrès Internationaux de Géographie by Marie-Claire Robic, Anne-Marie Briend, Mechtild Rossler’, Geographical Journal 163, 319–20.

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2006 ‘Beyond the landings: The reconstruction of Lower Normandy after June 1944’, Journal of Historical Geography 32, 127–48. 2008 ‘Reconstruction in the Manche département after the Normandy landings’, Modern and Contemporary France 16, 3–21. 2009 ‘From Utah Beach toward reconstruction: Revival in the Manche département of Lower Normandy after June 1944’, Journal of Historical Geography 35, 154–77. 2011g ‘Alsace-Lorraine/Elsaß-Lothringen: Destruction, revival and reconstruction in contested territory, 1939–1960’, Journal of Historical Geography 37, 95–112. 2011h ‘Paying the price for freedom: From destruction toward reconstruction in northern France, 1940–1960’, in Reconstructing Conflict: Integrating War and PostWar Geographies, S. Kirsch and C. Flint (eds) Farnham: Ashgate, 157–76.

Other citations in the text Carter P. (2019), ‘What is national biography for? Dictionaries and digital history’, 57–78 in K. Fox (ed.),‘True Biographies of Nations?’ The Cultural Journeys of Dictionaries of National Biography. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Casablanca (1942), [Film] Dir. M. Curtiz, USA: Warner Brothers. Clout, H. (1979), ‘Agriculture in France on the eve of the railway age’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of London. Clout, H. (1983), ‘L’évolution de la France rurale 1815–1914’, Doctorat de l’Université, Université de Paris I. Harmetz, A. (1993), Round Up the Usual Suspects: The Making of ‘Casablanca’: Bogart, Bergman, and World War II. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Kish, G. (1992), ‘International Geographical Union: A brief history’, GeoJournal 26, 224–8. Robic, M.-C., Briend, A.-M. and Rossler, M. (1996), Géographes Face au Monde: L'Union Géographique Internationale et les Congrès Internationaux de Géographie. Paris: L’Harmattan. Selby, M. F. G., revised by Driver, F. (2004), ‘Maconochie [formerly M’Konochie], Alexander (1787–1860)’, in H. C. G. Matthew, B. H. Harrison, L. Goldman and D. Cannadine (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sion, J. (1909), Les Paysans de la Normandie orientale Pays du Caux, Bray, Vexin normand, Vallée de la Seine. Étude géographique. Paris: Armand Colin.

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Slaymaker, O. (2019), ‘In praise of the International Geographical Union’, Canadian Geographer / Le Géographe Canadien 63 (4), 510–19. Stephen, L. (1898), ‘National Biography’, in Studies of a Biographer, 4 vols. London: Duckworth and Co., 1: 21–2. Wood, P. (2003), Geography at UCL: A Centennial Report. London: University College London.

2

David Lowenthal (1923–2018) Hugh Clout

© Department of Geography, University College London.

David Lowenthal was an intellectual giant who worked with brilliance and originality across many fields of scholarly enquiry. American by birth but British by inclination, his span of expertise extended far beyond geography and history. At the convergence of the humanities and social sciences, his interests covered aspects of historical geography, environmental perception, Caribbean studies, landscape research, environmental history, heritage studies and cultural history (Barnes and Clout 2019). Written during a remarkably

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long and unfailingly productive career, his essays and major books appeal to an audience within and outside academia, on both sides of the Atlantic and beyond. His published work on history, memory, heritage and environmental management informs agencies across the world as they face the challenge of wise stewardship of resources. Lowenthal practised a brand of applicable history and geography that embraced controversial topics. This made his impact in the public realm as great as that among academics. He believed: ‘Our heritage must be accepted in its totality, the vile along with the valiant, the evil along with the eminent, the sorrowful as well as the splendid … Consciously informed use of heritage is essential to civilized life’ (Lowenthal 2011a, 167).

Family background David Lowenthal was born on 26 April 1923 in New York City, the eldest child of Max (Mordechai) Lowenthal (1887–1971) and Eleanor (née Mack, 1898–1965). He was the brother of lawyer and controversial filmmaker John Lowenthal (1925–2003) and of novelist Elizabeth (Betty) Lowenthal Levin (born 1927). The family was highly educated and included senior lawyers and university professors (Anon. 2018a,b; Clout 2018a,b, 2019). David’s father, was of Lithuanian Jewish heritage (Lowenthal, ‘David Lowenthal: childhood, schooling, army’). He graduated from the University of Minnesota in 1909 and graduated three years later from Harvard Law School. One of his first jobs was as clerk to Judge Julian William Mack (1866–1943), the uncle of his future wife. Max Lowenthal ran a private law practice specializing in workers’ rights, defence of right-to-strike legislation and shareholder rights. He became involved with many leading political personalities in Washington, DC, most notably Harry S. Truman (1884–1972). Max Lowenthal was counsel to the National Committee on Law Observance and Enforcement, the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs, the Interstate Commerce Commission and other government committees. In 1946 he was sent to Berlin to gather evidence for the restitution of property stolen by the Nazis. Because of his commitment to workers’ rights, his activities were scrutinized by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and in turn his The Federal Bureau of Investigation (1950) was an exposé of the bureau and its operations, detailing

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examples of spying, ‘red-baiting’ and harassment of radicals and foreigners. It was highly critical of covert political operations and of J. Edgar Hoover (1895– 1972), director of the FBI. David’s mother, Eleanor Mack, graduated in history and music from Radcliffe College, and enjoyed the cultural life of New York’s cultivated bourgeoisie. Dinner party ‘converse was wide-ranging and dazzling’ (Lowenthal, ‘David Lowenthal: childhood, schooling, army’). Holidays were taken in the family farmhouse at Bridgewater, north-west Connecticut, or in rented property on the Massachusetts coast (Lowenthal 1956). David learnt the piano and enjoyed playing throughout his life. He attended the Walden School and then the Lincoln School in New York City – a pioneer experimental school employing innovative educational methods advocated by philosopher and psychologist John Dewey (1859–1952). The curriculum involved social science, English, history, modern languages, music and the creative arts. Individual exploration and small-group work were encouraged. David was in his element in such an atmosphere and was free to indulge his passion for reading. Much later in life, he described himself as a ‘bookish voyager’ (Lowenthal 1997a, 355). He enjoyed spending the summer vacations of 1937 and 1938 at a field camp in the American Southwest, to familiarize himself with Navajo and Pueblo culture, and the infant science of chronology (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 2).

From Harvard to the army From September 1940 to April 1943, Lowenthal was enrolled at Harvard University where he avoided specialization and read very widely, finding formal classes unattractive. Many years later, he remarked: ‘I hate disciplines. Specialization has been the bane of education’ (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 2). His readings covered Celtic culture and Irish literature but not geography – indeed he had ‘not even heard of Harvard’s department of geography’, but he much enjoyed geology and worked as assistant to the director of the university’s meteorological institute, Charles F. Brookes (1891–1958). He went on to prepare weather maps and predictions for the joint army and navy central weather agency in Washington, DC. Inclusion of summer school classes enabled him, formally a member of the ‘Class of ‘44’, to graduate BS

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after three years rather than four (pers. comm. Mary Alice Lowenthal (MAL), 15 Nov 2018). His honours thesis on the New Brunswick–Maine boundary dispute was later published (Lowenthal 1951). Lowenthal joined the US army on 13 May 1943. His training included a course in oral German in preparation for the war in Europe as well as physical training. Twenty-five mile hikes carrying 50-pound packs alternated with rifle instruction and bayonet assaults on stuffed dummies. From April to July we were based first at hot, dry, dusty Camp Phillips, Kansas, then at hot, wet, humid Fort Collins, Arkansas, and finally in the swampy mosquitoridden marshlands of northern Louisiana, before boarding ship for France. (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence in wartime France, 1944–45’)

He sailed for Europe with the 44th Infantry Division on 5 September. On 15 September, some three months after D-Day, they disembarked at Cherbourg in Normandy. Being very short-sighted, Lowenthal was removed from rifle duties and, being fairly fluent in French, was assigned to teach the troops enough to get along with the local inhabitants. However, he recalled: They had little desire to get along with us. They’d had enough of soldiers in their midst, German or Allied, and wished to see the back of us as soon as possible. To that end, they plied us with diarrhoea-inducing unripe camembert and with the rawest of calvados, swilled in such quantity as to blind many soldiers used to nothing stronger than beer. (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’)

His company was bivouacked in the bocage country of Lower Normandy, with small fields surrounded by dense, ancient hedgerows. The troops were instructed how to ambush and take cover in this thick-foliage countryside. Lowenthal knew that this instruction ‘was futile, for beyond [western] Normandy lay no more hedgerows, just open plains alternating with forest all the way to the Urals. No-one heard me; it had to be hedgerow fighting, an arcane experience as useless as archery’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). In October Lowenthal’s company travelled eastward to Nancy, in Lorraine and thence toward the Vosges mountains. At first they encountered ‘only tattered remnants of German forces, but dug in each night nonetheless’

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(Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). Each day armed forays led to the capture of a few wounded German teenage soldiers whom Lowenthal was charged to interrogate: ‘one terrified young man questioning another terrified young man’, day after day (Lowenthal pers. comm.). These wounded men were desperate to get word back to their families, and Lowenthal later confided that ‘Twice I promised dying boys this would be done, although I knew it could not. Those young lives ebbing away for some remote insane cause haunt me to this day’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). Beyond Lunéville, in rough and risky terrain and appalling weather, the Americans met major resistance, and moved at constant hazard of German mortar fire. Entrenched German resistance here had been unexpected. Asked-for reinforcements never came, artillery cover did, with mixed results, with some shells falling short among our own men … Within a week our regiment lost all its commissioned officers, sent back to liaise with headquarters. We began to run low on food and water. (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’)

Pinned down, Lowenthal and his comrades dug ramshackle fox-holes that were soon ‘wet, boggy and waterlogged’, in which water ‘numbed swollen feet and reduced us to crawling on arms and knees. We didn’t know we had “trench foot”, a fungal infection due to booted immersion’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). When relief arrived, the invalids were carried to field camp and thence to England and hospital at Taunton in Somerset. There the worst affected men underwent amputations, the rest, including Lowenthal, treatment. Having recovered, Lowenthal enjoyed trips into the Somerset countryside and the Lake District, trips which confirmed his ‘immediate affection for England’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). In December 1944 Lowenthal was reassigned to army intelligence in the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) in London charged with analysing guidebooks to determine which German hotels and castles could accommodate American occupation forces. In January 1945 he was dispatched to Paris to work on the OSS’s Intelligence Photographic Documentation Project (IPDP), ‘a grand and never completed mission to survey and catalogue the whole of western Europe’s terrain and built environment’ in preparation for any future military conflict (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). Working officially as ‘a geographer’, Lowenthal did reconnaissance work in France,

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Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and Bohemia. His army discharge papers stated that he undertook ‘geographic survey and fieldtrips … Wrote reports on military geography, with relation to industrial installations, topography, communications, transportation, and other social and economic features, [and] briefed air photo intelligence teams on the above areas’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). Lowenthal believed that his assignment to the IPDP was due to French geographer Jean Gottmann (1915–94), who sought refuge in the US in December 1941 and was related to his uncle James Gutmann, professor of philosophy at Columbia University (Lowenthal 2007a) (Geographers 25). Max Lowenthal directed Gottmann’s subsequent work as an adviser at the Board of Economic Warfare, and the French scholar was well known to professional geographers working at the OSS headquarters. Aware of David’s competence in French and German, and of his experience of geology and weather maps, Gottmann may well have mentioned that he would be an appropriate ‘geographer’ in the IPDP (Muscarà 2019, 109). In Paris Lowenthal met Gottmann several times at select gatherings where André Siegfried (1875–1959) and other distinguished scholars discussed world affairs (Geographers 30). ‘Geographers’ worked with photographers in two-man teams that travelled to the areas to be surveyed for the IPDP. Lowenthal’s photographer was Joseph Bucolo. In March 1945 they learned about a cache of landscape photographs housed in Luxembourg as part of a German survey remarkably similar to their own. The following month, half of the IPDP staff were sent eastwards to survey areas that later came under Soviet control. Lowenthal and Bucolo reached Plzeň (Pilsen) in western Czechoslovakia ‘where American and Russian forces had met the day before’. Lowenthal noted that their return to Paris was impeded ‘by streams of Germans fleeing rape and reprisal. Women’s and children’s agonizing pleas to rescue them from bestial, barbaric Russians recalled the dying youngsters I had met in France a year before’ (Lowenthal ‘From infantry to intelligence’). The longest mission undertaken by Lowenthal and Bucolo involved surveying the Auvergne region of central France in spring and summer 1945 where they took and annotated tens of thousands of photographs over seven weeks, with the exception of two days spent in jail as suspected German spies. Their text and images were edited and printed in Paris, and sent back across the Atlantic. Their final mission was in southern

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Belgium from where, having fractured his wrist in an accident, Lowenthal was recalled home. Discharged from the army in September 1945, Lowenthal continued to work for the IPDP. Some years later, it was said, the entire body of text and images was destroyed in a warehouse fire near Washington. War service was ‘formative and hugely important’ for Lowenthal (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 2). He learned how to undertake field surveys, and depict and interpret natural and man-made features in the landscape. He came to recognize the importance of photography, as well as the written word, for recording terrain and the built environment (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). In addition, he acquired a fascination for Europe, and especially the British Isles. Toward the end of his life, he declared: ‘Through military intelligence work I became a geographer’ (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 2).

Graduate studies in geography and history In 1946 Lowenthal enrolled for graduate study at Columbia University, taking ‘a couple of pre-med courses’ (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). Thanks to Gottmann’s contacts he spent the summer as an intern at the American Geographical Society (AGS), New York. Following Gottmann’s advice, he transferred to the University of California, Berkeley, where he fell under the spell of charismatic geographer Carl Ortwin Sauer (1889–1975), whose ‘Intellectual curiosity and drive embraced every epoch and every aspect of the ever-changing interplay between humans and their earthly home’ (Lowenthal 2014a, vii) (Geographers 2). Lowenthal was intrigued by ‘the eclectic and innovative work [in the geography department] ranging from the history of plant and animal domestication to the environmental end ecological attitudes of societies past and present the world over’ (Lowenthal 2014a, viii). Sauer actively welcomed students from backgrounds other than geography and, ‘taking all the world as his province’, steered Lowenthal toward courses in pedology, botany and zoology, often with fieldwork components. Lowenthal continued to read voraciously in and beyond his formal options. For his MA dissertation (‘Historical geography of the Guinea coast’) he worked on a comparative study of the careers of British, Dutch and French colonists, and their African slaves and Asian indentured labourers, on South America’s

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Guyanese coast (Lowenthal 2014a, x). Drawing on this investigation, he published a narrative of French colonial experiments in the eighteenth century, and a more spatially aware account of population contrasts across the Guianas (Lowenthal 1952, 1960a,b). As his MA neared completion, Sauer and fellow geographer John Leighly (1895–1986) encouraged Lowenthal to undertake doctoral research on the life and work of George Perkins Marsh (1801–82, Geographers 12). In 1949 he moved to the University of Wisconsin, Madison, intending to join the doctoral programme in geography (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018), but instead worked in the history department where he was supervised by Merle Curti (1897–1996) (Olwig 2019). Geographers Richard Hartshorne (1899–1992) and Andrew Hill Clark (1911–75) joined the panel of doctoral examiners (Geographers 14). In his PhD dissertation (‘George Perkins Marsh, 1801– 1882’) Lowenthal traced how Marsh drew on his experiences in Vermont and his diplomatic career in Turkey and Italy to chronicle the devastating impact of human activity in the Alps and around the Mediterranean basin. Marsh advocated conservation practices in his pioneering Man and Nature (1864) (Hall 1998; Lowenthal 1953, 1960c). Lowenthal’s paper on Marsh and the development of American geography at the 17th International Geographical Congress (IGC) in Washington, DC, in 1952 was heard by historical geographer Henry Clifford Darby (1909–92) and Nordic specialist William Richard Mead (1915–2014) (Lowenthal 1957a) (Geographers 26, 36), both from University College London, which was important in Lowenthal’s later career.

Vassar College, the American Geographical Society and Caribbean studies In the autumn of 1952 Lowenthal was appointed assistant professor at Vassar College, the pioneering women’s college at Poughkeepsie, New York State, where he introduced courses on modern imperialism and the geography of underdeveloped areas and contributed to inter-departmental courses on American culture, international relations, the Soviet Union and the Middle East. He arranged for Vassar to be a depository of the US Army Map Service and its forty thousand sheets, together with a collection of US Geological

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Survey maps and the geography library, occupied considerable space. Surrounded by only women students and a largely female faculty, Lowenthal was greatly impressed by the quality of his colleagues at a time when few women were employed to teach in North American universities (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 5). While at Vassar, Lowenthal published his dissertation as George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter (1958a), acknowledging editorial assistance from his first wife Jane (1916–2002), and dedicating the book to Merle Curti. Clarence J. Glacken noted that its author had meditated over source materials ‘for a long time, and the result is a satisfying, deeply human, and extremely interesting document. [It is] a fitting memorial to Marsh and a great credit to its author’ (Glacken 1959, 437–8) (Geographers 14). Some years later, Lowenthal edited Marsh’s pioneering book Man and Nature (1864) for re-publication (Lowenthal 1965a,b). Environmental sociologist Jan Dizard noted: By the time Lowenthal reintroduced Marsh to the reading public in the mid-1960s … our air and water were fouled, our forests were being overharvested, public lands in the west were being over-grazed … and the exploitation of minerals had left moonscapes in their wake … Lowenthal’s reissue of Marsh’s ‘gloomy work’ could not have been better timed. (Dizard 2013, 20, 25)

In 1956 Charles Baker Hitchcock (1906–69), director of the AGS, appointed Lowenthal and a couple of other ‘brilliant young men’ (William Warntz, 1922–88; Calvin John Heusser, 1924–2006) to be research associates in order to pursue their own interests (Fairchild 1979, 37; Monk 2003, 242; Warntz 1984, 142–4) (Geographers 19). Lowenthal chose to integrate ‘environmental perception, environmental history, and cultural landscape in studies of the meaning of place’ (Flad 2004, 519). He combined this position with short-term visiting professorships at distinguished North American universities over the next sixteen years, in order ‘to have new experiences and meet new people’ (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). At the University of Washington (1966, 1971), Clark University (1967, 1970–1), the University of California, Berkeley (1965, 1969) and the University of Syracuse (1971) he taught in geography departments, but was involved in other disciplines at Columbia University (American civilization 1957–70), the Massachusetts Institute of Technology

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(political science 1967), Harvard University (landscape architecture 1966–9) and the City University of New York (environmental psychology 1971–2) (Lowenthal 2005a, 472). Lowenthal spent the year 1962–3 at University College London and, with historical geographer Hugh Prince (1927–2013), developed a remarkably fruitful investigation into the characteristics of English landscapes and how they were perceived and appreciated (Lowenthal and Prince 1969, 1976) (Geographers 34). The Geographical Review carried two influential articles on these themes, the first of which was distributed to attenders at the 20th IGC in London in 1964 (Lowenthal and Prince 1964, 1965). At the same time Lowenthal presented his first paper on North American landscapes, a theme to which he returned (Lowenthal 1964, 1966a, 1968a,b, 1976a, 1977, 1982a, 1983, 1989a). From 1968 to 1972 he was secretary of the AGS, becoming an honorary fellow at the end of that period. Lowenthal’s research on the Guianas led to a wider commitment to the West Indies and to islands at large, whose societies ‘tremendously excited’ him (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 3). During 1956–7 he was Fulbright Research Fellow at the Institute of Social and Economic Research at the University of the West Indies (UWI, Jamaica). There were a dozen or so social scientists ‘all working on small islands and encompassing so-called different subject matter’ (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 6). This was the beginning of a long association with the UWI, where for a while Lowenthal taught American history and served as a consultant to the Vice-Chancellor. He travelled to many West Indian islands and published on countless Caribbean insular themes (Lowenthal 1955, 1957b,c, 1958b, 1960a,b,d,e, 1961a,b,c, 1962a, 1967a, 1971, 1972a,b, 1973a,b; Lowenthal and Clarke 1977, 1980, 1982; Lowenthal and Comitas 1962). In 1960 he received a Rockefeller Foundation grant to further his studies, and edited The West Indies Federation: Perspectives on a New Nation for the AGS (Lowenthal 1961b,c). Federation proved short-lived and the book assumed ‘the character of an obituary’ (Lewis 1963, 500). With financial support from the Institute of Race Relations (London) covering 1961–5, Lowenthal undertook research for West Indian Societies (Lowenthal, 1972b). He explained: Islanded among continental giants are eleven million West Indians in some fifty societies, each distinct from the others, yet all different from the

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Anglo-American and Latin American leviathans that frame the Caribbean. This book chronicles the likenesses and differences of these societies, their insularities and common bonds, and their citizens’ efforts, in the wake of the hemisphere’s longest history of slavery and colonialism, to transform vitality, elan, and creativity into a viable sense of identity. (Lowenthal 1972b, xiii)

In so doing, he acknowledged: ‘In the West Indies, as elsewhere, there are indeed things only an insider can know, approaches only an insider can take, errors only an outsider is prone to make’ (Lowenthal 1972b, xv). Colin Clarke found Lowenthal’s writing ‘imaginative, flexible, evocative but always penetrating and beautifully crafted. He allows West Indians to speak for themselves through contemporary poetry and prose … This material is backed up with an astonishing depth of reading and maturity of understanding which few Caribbeanists can equal’ (Clarke 1972, 503–4). Roger Abrahams praised Lowenthal’s ‘brave book. It attempts – and generally succeeds – in bringing together very diverse reports from over fifty insular societies and making some sense out of them’, but he regretted that his ‘generalizations all too often are derived from studies of the island elites or middle class’ (Abrahams 1973, 355– 6). By contrast, an exceptionally long and thoroughly devastating critique from a scholar at UWI concluded: ‘The book is written in true “expert” tradition – the author might have learnt from the writings of others; certainly he has nothing to contribute’ apart from ‘the massive bibliography’ (Craig 1974, 138). Together with anthropologist Lambros Comitas (1927–2020), Lowenthal then edited four volumes of essays under the collective title West Indian Perspectives, dealing in turn with multi-racial societies, class and colour, work patterns and family life, and the aftermath of sovereignty (Lowenthal and Comitas 1973a,b,c,d). Of the seventy-two items in the four volumes, forty-five came from West Indians and the remainder from North American or British scholars. Anthony Bryan acknowledged that this was ‘a decent start’ but argued that ‘future collections … may be enhanced by relying even more on Caribbean sources and less on metropolitan scholarship’ (Bryan 1975, 330). Donald Innis found the volumes ‘valuable’ but lamented that their essays reflected ‘middleclass views of West Indian problems. Too many authors seem to assume that the poorest and blackest people are some kind of inchoate proto-humanity with no viewpoint of their own’ (Innis 1974, 437).

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Lowenthal served as a council member of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (1964–71), the Association of American Geographers (AAG, 1968–71), and the US National Research Council (1968– 71). His paper ‘Geography, experience and imagination’, delivered at the 19th IGC in Stockholm in 1960 (Gold 2009; Lowenthal 1961d), greatly impressed H. C. Darby, who invited him to spend a year at UCL as a visiting researcher (pers. comm. D. J. Robinson, 5 Aug 2019; R. U. Cooke, 6 Aug 2019). The essay systematized concepts largely inspired by John Kirtland Wright (1891–1969), his mentor at the AGS who like Lowenthal had trained as an historian at Harvard (Lowenthal 1969) (Geographers 22). Lowenthal concluded: Every image and idea about the world is compounded of personal experience, imagination, and memory. The places that we live in, those we visit and travel through, the worlds we read about and see in works of art, and the realms of imagination and fantasy each contribute to our images of nature and man. All types of experience, from those most closely linked with our everyday world to those which seem furthest removed, come together to make up our individual picture of reality. The surface of the earth is shaped for each person through refraction through cultural and personal lenses of custom and fancy. (Lowenthal 1961d, 260)

A quarter of a century later Lowenthal elaborated on these ideas, declaring that his main objective was: To map the intellectual terrain that could then perhaps reveal how people made sense of the world around them … I was concerned to show that it was not only environmental realities, but our perceptions of them, forged by experience and preconception, colored by taste and preference, and reshaped by memory and amnesia, that guided our environmental judgements and actions. All environmental behaviour, individual and group alike, was grounded in intention and feeling. These topics took me down psychological and other pathways hitherto unfrequented by geographers, notably the malleable mechanisms of long-term memory and surreal landscapes of dreams and visionary experiences. (Lowenthal 1987a, 338)

Declaring, ‘Not every prospect pleases’, he posed critical questions about how and why landscapes were perceived as beautiful (Lowenthal 1962b). On numerous occasions in the 1960s, members of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, ranging from architects to

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psychologists, met Lowenthal at the headquarters of the AGS in New York. These sessions were complemented by seminars involving geographers and psychologists at Clark University and landscape architects at Harvard (Lowenthal 1967b, 1972c; Lowenthal and Riel 1972a). Lowenthal was awarded two grants from Resources for the Future Inc. to prepare a bibliography on environmental perception and to conduct experiments and interviews relating to environmental attitudes in a variety of settings (Anon. 2018c). Reports on this work, conducted with the help of French Canadian Marquita Riel (1938–2018), then a doctoral student at Columbia University, were printed by the AGS (Lowenthal 1972d,e,f,g; Lowenthal and Riel 1972b,c,d,e). Riel proceeded to an academic career at the Université du Québec à Montréal, becoming professor and then dean of the arts faculty. Lowenthal’s enquiries into American attitudes toward nature and landscape received funding from a John Simon Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship (1965–6) to enable him to photograph examples of ordinary, vernacular buildings and landscapes on black-and-white film, rather as he and Bucolo had done in Europe for the IPDP (Lowenthal 1966b, 1968a, 1970a,b). These images appeared in his books and articles, and in 2017 in an exhibition in Montpellier, France, alongside photographs by Donald Appleyard (1928–82), John Brinkerhoff Jackson (1909–96) and others (Pavillon Populaire, 2017). After moving to Britain in 1972 Lowenthal was distanced from his American fieldwork on environmental perception.

University College London and beyond In 1971 Paul Wheatley (1921–99), occupant of the second established chair of geography at UCL, announced his return to the US (Geographers 24). After vain efforts to appoint a model builder or a quantifier in his stead, Lowenthal, then the sole remaining research associate at the AGS (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018) found his wish for a visiting professorship at UCL translated into consideration for appointment to the chair. Adviser Robert Steel (1915–97) disapproved, being ‘very conscious of the delightful contrast between the freedom from responsibility of the visiting professor and the very heavy burdens that inevitably attach themselves to an ordinary professorship’

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(letter from Robert Steel to Noel Annan, 29 February 1972, UCL Archives). Provost Noel Annan (1916–2000) replied that ‘We are looking first and foremost for a distinguished scholar, [someone] excellent with post-graduate students … The very last thing we are looking for is an administrator’ (Letter from Annan to Steel, 6 May 1972, UCL Archives). Having secured a firm commitment, not revealed to his colleagues, that administration would never come his way (‘a real blessing’), Lowenthal accepted the offer (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 5). On 31 August 1972 Lowenthal left New York for London. Over the next thirteen years he ran training seminars for postgraduate geographers and welcomed many distinguished North American scholars to UCL, who discussed their research at memorable Thursday afternoon seminars. Many of these were followed by Saturday evening parties that David and his wife, Mary Alice (née Lamberty), a colleague from the AGS whom he married on 16 October 1970, hosted in their rambling house at Harrow-on-the-Hill. Lowenthal was very keen to fit into the local community, joining the conservation society and becoming a bellringer in his parish church (Hall 2001, 121) (pers. comm. Ron Johnston, 15 Jan 2019). His inaugural lecture was ‘Past time, present places: landscape and memory’ (Lowenthal 1975). For more than a decade he taught challenging undergraduate courses on the West Indies, environmental perception (with Jacquie Burgess), and conservation and preservation (with Hugh Prince). His lectures were ‘lucid, witty and erudite’ but, as Trevor Barnes recalls, ‘his intellectual sophistication and deep learning made us afraid of him’ (pers. comm. Trevor Barnes, 7 Sept 2019). His courses appealed to the brightest and boldest undergraduates but he did not establish a student following, tutees and doctoral candidates alike being intimidated by the breadth and depth of his scholarship, which they felt they could not approach, as well as by the intellectual expectations placed upon them. A single doctoral student presented a thesis with Lowenthal’s supervision; others left in tears or in anger, only to complete successfully with advice from different faculty members (Middleton 1981). Such reactions were understandable but unfortunate since, when one got to know him, Lowenthal was the most generous, welcoming and hospitable of men; when relaxed, he had an unforgettable grin. Lowenthal admitted that he was ‘not very successful’ in broadening geography undergraduates’ minds and missed the intellectual stimulus he had

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found when interacting with articulate masters’ students in the USA (Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 5). In his own words: ‘The structure of British teaching [then primarily of undergraduates] cost me the graduate-student base that had, at Harvard, and Clark, at the City University of New York and elsewhere, both stimulated my thinking and made feasible large-scale comparative research into public attitudes and actions’ (Lowenthal 1987a, 341). His solution was to look to the wider intellectual community within and beyond the University of London, where he gave guest seminars to advanced scholars in anthropology, archaeology, architecture and design, art history, planning, and heritage studies. He found that ‘architecture and planning colleagues at UCL and the Architectural Association seemed to find [my] approach congenial, though some were concerned less to meet, let alone raise, levels of awareness than to find practical solutions to design dilemmas’ (Lowenthal 1987a, 341). He used long vacations to make new academic contacts and many friends, for example during visits to Australia and New Zealand (Lowenthal 1976b, 1978a, 1985a). Lowenthal’s co-edited volume, Our Past before Us: Why Do We Save It? emerged from interdisciplinary interaction (Lowenthal 1979a, 1981; Lowenthal and Binney 1981). Landscape Meanings and Values built on earlier enquiries into landscape beauty and valued landscapes, and showed his commitment to the Landscape Research Group (Lowenthal and Penning-Rowsell 1986; Lowenthal 1962b, 1970a, 1978b, 1982b). Politics of the Past was one of two dozen books to emerge from the pioneering World Archaeological Congress held at Southampton in 1986 (Lowenthal 1989b; Lowenthal and Gathercole 1989; Lowenthal and Hamilakis 2017, 6–8). Earlier on, Lowenthal co-edited an intriguing collection of essays entitled Geographies of the Mind, in honour of J. K. Wright, director of the AGS from 1938 to 1949 (Lowenthal 1976a; Lowenthal and Bowden 1976). During his years at UCL he was a member of the editorial boards of British (London Journal, 1974–86; Progress in Human Geography, 1976–90) and North American (Environment and Behavior, 1969– 76; Geographical Review, 1973–95) journals. He served on the board of the geography series of Oxford University Press (1975–80) and was editorial chair of the London Research Series in Geography (1980–85). David was also on the council of the Caribbean Studies Association (1974–6) and was instrumental in founding the Society for Caribbean Studies in the United Kingdom, whose members remember him as ‘a guide, an inspiration and a friend to many

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scholars of the Caribbean’ (Fraser and Heuman 2018; Thomas-Hope 2019). Of greater significance than his editorial and committee work was the exhaustive reading he was undertaking in preparation for his magnum opus The Past Is a Foreign Country (Lowenthal 1985b). In the early autumn of 1985, Lowenthal’s position at UCL came to an end, at a moment when financial stringencies were hitting British universities hard. This ‘upsetting change’ freed David from regular teaching commitments and allowed him to channel his energies in a variety of directions (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). An initial plan to become an adjunct professor at Berkeley did not materialize but he and Mary Alice had already purchased a house there which they rented out since they continued to live in Harrow (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). As in earlier decades, he served as visiting professor at several institutions, including the University of Washington, the University of California, Berkeley, the University of Georgia and at St Mary’s University College, Twickenham, west London, where he held a visiting position in heritage studies from 1995 to 2000. He set up a research seminar at the Warburg Institute and UCL with funding from the Nuffield Foundation on ‘The Uses of the Past’. These sessions attracted an eclectic group of people from London’s museums who debated the functions of museums and how they interpret and present history. Lowenthal obtained funding from the Ruth Landes Memorial Research Fund (1992–3) and from the Leverhulme Trust (1992–4) to facilitate further enquiries into George Perkins Marsh and into the challenging issue of heritage. He delivered guest lectures at numerous universities in North America, the UK, continental Europe and Australasia. For example, he spoke on ‘Environment as Heritage’ in the Linacre Lecture series at the University of Oxford, and contributed an essay to the catalogue of the ‘Humanizing Landscapes’ exhibition at Vassar College (Lowenthal 2000a,b). He delivered the John Christie Lecture there in 2000, tracing English and American landscape vision through works of art (Lowenthal 2001a). Lowenthal continued to serve on the council of various scholarly organizations, including the Royal Society of Arts (1984–93) and the Landscape Research Group (UK) that he chaired from 1984 to 1989 (Lowenthal 1980, 2007b, 2013a). He joined the editorial committee of the International Journal of Cultural Property and committed several important papers to its pages (Lowenthal 1992a, 1995, 2005b, 2006a). In 2008 he was pleased to

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see a selection of his essays translated by Marianne Eckell for publication in French (Lowenthal 2008a; Paquot 2019). He involved himself with a number of heritage controversies, such as ‘Elgin marbles’, taken to the British Museum from the Parthenon in Athens, and the statues of imperialist Cecil Rhodes in Cape Town and Oxford (Lowenthal 1988, 2009a, 2016a). On these and other matters he contributed to popular as well as scholarly journals (Lowenthal 1991a, 2001b, 2003a). An emerging focus of interest concerned the relationship between landscape heritage, national belonging and supranational identity (Lowenthal 1989c, 1991b, 1992b,c, 1994a,b, 1996a, 2000c, 2004a). Such issues were even explored in the realm of national anthems (Lowenthal 2006b). In his final years he wrote about the origins of Anthropocene awareness (Lowenthal 2016b). With William M. Denevan, he revised and completed the manuscript of the biography of Carl O. Sauer by the late Michael Williams (1935–2009) for publication (Williams 2014a) (Geographers 30). Vermont geographer Daniel Gade found the resultant book to be ‘felicitously written, it humanizes its subject and recounts his multifaceted contributions without placing him on a pedestal’ (Gade 2014, 120). In their very active retirement, David and Mary Alice took the opportunity to travel widely, enabling David to enhance his fascination with islands and the economic and environmental challenges confronting island societies. Some of these visits were to attend conferences, others were linked to his role as a consultant on heritage issues. Four trips to Australia were complemented by many visits to Mediterranean islands (Lowenthal 1990a, 2007c,d, 2008b, 2010, 2015a). Return journeys were made to the West Indies, but Newfoundland was visited for the first time (Lowenthal 1987b, 1992d, 2017). Orkney, the Shetlands, the Hebrides, Sark (‘endangered by an outside land grab’) and other islands around Britain continued to capture Lowenthal’s attention (Lowenthal 2014b, 2015b). The island of Barbuda ‘was close to David’s heart’ and he was saddened by ‘the almost total destruction by the 2017 hurricane that led to an attempted grab of the communal lands by the Antigua government majority’ (pers. comm. MAL, 9 Dec 2018; Lowenthal and Clarke, 2007). David and Mary Alice spent about a third of each year at their home in Berkeley, California: ‘not really America’ as he once remarked (Edwards and Wilson 2014; Seddon 2003, 1). Eventually, they sold the house at Harrow-on-the-Hill and purchased an apartment in central London that was convenient for visits to academic

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institutions and concerts at the Wigmore Hall. Contacts were maintained with anthropologists, art historians, architects, planners and geographers in the University of London, as were countless friendships within and beyond academia. The hospitality of the Lowenthal household remained legendary (Olwig 2019). Lowenthal’s flow of publications continued unabated, as retirement afforded him time to read, think, amass evidence and compose a suite of major books. Neil Asher Silberman recalled how Mary Alice, ‘also a geographer by profession, became in later years David’s sounding board, editor, and overall enabler of his continuing research and travel … Neat piles of edited and still-to-be reviewed manuscript pages and newspaper clippings [occupied] side tables in the living room of their apartment … eventually finding their way into a lecture or printed page’ (Silberman 2018, 242). These publications benefited from ‘Mary Alice’s sharp editorial pen. The ideas are Lowenthal’s, and he was an accomplished writer himself, but it is the skill of the editor that makes a key difference in the reading value and shelf life of a manuscript’ (Olwig 2019, 115). Lowenthal died in his sleep on 15 September 2018, at his London home, in his ninety-sixth year. His final essays were in press and the proofs of Quest for the Unity of Knowledge awaiting scrutiny (Lowenthal 2018, 2019a,b). This, Lowenthal’s last book, originated from his contributions to the Stockholm Archipelago Lectures, orchestrated by the Swedish Royal Institute of Technology, in September 2012. It draws on major themes in David’s research, including humanity and nature, islands, purity, heritage, and past and present, and shows how ingrained bias toward unity or diversity of enquiry, in the sciences and the humanities respectively, has shaped education, religion, genetics, race relations, heritage governance and environmental policy. ‘These are themes that have been lived [by David] as much as they have been researched’ (pers. comm. Sverker Sӧrlin, 4 Dec 2018). In two hundred pages, Lowenthal displayed his characteristic powers of memory and provided a felicitous array of argument and examples. To historian Tom Griffiths the text was: ‘An exhilarating intellectual journey across place and time, crafting a shimmering history of ideas. This masterful scholar weaves a lifetime of learning and wisdom into a timely and urgent exploration of the changing conditions of knowledge itself ’ (publishers’ blurb for the book). Archaeologist Yannis Hamilakis appreciated Lowenthal’s synthesis of universalizing quests for knowledge and particularistic accounts of understanding, his elucidation

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of the creative tension and didactic interweaving between the two, and the ‘plethora of wonderful actors, facts, ideas, and anecdotes, from the history of science, environmental studies, heritage, and the politics of the past’ (publishers’ blurb for the book) evoked along the way. Historian Jane Carruthers believed that ‘every academic should read this remarkable book [that] serves to remind us in the most readable and thought-provoking way of the critical approach we should bring to our disciplines and to scholarship in general’ (Carruthers 2019). In a long and erudite review entitled ‘How it all comes together – sometimes’, historical geographer Graeme Wynn offered a more nuanced appraisal, stressing how Quest for Unity, ‘journeying through centuries and across complex landscapes, negotiates oft-travelled ground, and perforce encounters traces of others (overwhelmingly from the western European tradition) embarked on similar missions’ (Wynn 2019, 107).

Four major books published in retirement

The Past is a Foreign Country What kindled Lowenthal’s interest in the past remains a mystery (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018), but it certainly intensified when he worked on George Perkins Marsh and gained first-hand experience of England and explored English landscape tastes. Unlike Americans, who viewed relics from the past as ‘reminders of decadence and dependency’, the English seemed to venerate everything that was old (Lowenthal 1985b, xviii; 1987a, 344). In the early 1970s pillaging of antiquities and destruction of old neighbourhoods in the cause of urban renewal, focused his attention on historic preservation, ethnic roots and the past as a general concept. In 1977 he began to devise the framework for The Past is a Foreign Country (1985b). Introducing a lecture at Syracuse University given at about that time, he declared: Awareness of the past is essential to the maintenance of purpose in life. Without it we would lack all sense of continuity, all apprehension of causality, all knowledge of our own identity. [But] the past is not a fixed or immobile series of events; our interpretations of it are in constant flux … Today’s past is

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an accumulation of mankind’s memories, seen through our own generation’s particular perspectives … The changing present continually requires new interpretations of what has taken place. (Lowenthal 1979b, 103)

Lowenthal’s magisterial book, published a month after he retired from UCL, examined: ‘how the past enriches and impoverishes us, and the reasons we embrace or shun it’; ‘how our recollections and our surroundings make us aware of the past, and how we respond to such knowledge’; and ‘why and how we change what has come down to us, to what ends its vestiges, like our memories, are salvaged or contrived, and how these alterations affect our heritage and ourselves’ (Lowenthal 1985b, xix). Throughout the text Lowenthal strove to show how ‘the past, virtually indistinguishable from the present, has become an even more foreign realm, yet one increasingly suffused by the present’ (xix). Using countless examples, he demonstrated how memories are ‘distorted by selective perception, intervening circumstance, and hindsight’, and how historians rewrite the past from the standpoint of the present (xxii). He insisted that ‘the past is not dead … A mass of memories and records, of relics and replicas, of monuments and memorabilia, lives at the core or our being. And as we remake it, the past remakes us’ (xxv). He relied mainly on sources written in English and thereby echoed the views of Western elites ‘who troubled to record their views and were probably more inclined than other folk to speculate about the past’ (xxvi). Voices from Eastern and African cultures were largely beyond his reach, so that his opinions were based on ‘generalizations that concern a small but influential minority of humanity, past and present’ (xxvi). He acknowledged his debt to countless ‘art and architectural historians, psychologists and psychoanalysts, archaeologists, Renaissance scholars and others’, and craved pardon for any misinterpretation of their views (xxv). The Past is a Foreign Country’s 490 pages contained 1,800 bibliographic references and 2,125 footnotes. Of its 105 illustrations, 45 were photographs of sites in Britain or the USA taken by David’s own Leica camera, purchased when he received his Guggenheim Fellowship in 1965; it was used mainly in the western USA, plus New England and the mid-Atlantic states (pers. comm. MAL, 9 Dec 2018). The first part of the book, ‘Wanting the Past’, stresses the obsession with nostalgia and the popularity of time-travel in many works of science fiction. The second part, ‘Knowing the Past’, assessed the

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relative importance of memory, professional history and relics as sources of information about the past. Lowenthal argued that the connection between memory and identity appeared only in the late eighteenth century; prior to that time personal identity was believed to be static rather than emerging from experience and remembrance. He maintained that the idea of the past being distinct from the present was not accepted widely in the West until the 1800s. The third part, ‘Changing the Past’, focused on preservation, which Lowenthal saw as the current way of interacting with the past. He argued that even when the past is being preserved, people alter it, ‘to make the past their own, to lengthen it, to make it more honourable or richer in meaning, or to harmonize with current values’ (Datel 1987, 364). He concluded that placing less emphasis on rigorous conservation policies and adopting more innovative approaches to the use of relics and ideas from the past would enhance Western culture. Reviewers found much to applaud in The Past is a Foreign Country, noting that it was ‘the product of voluminous reading, an insatiable appetite for good conversation, and years of experience on both sides of the Atlantic’ (Harris 1988, 329). Many appreciated David’s mastery of sources as varied as art criticism, novels and poetry, as well as advertising copy, comic strip cartoons, science fiction and television dramas, but Comer Vann Woodward described this collation of sources as ‘a helter-skelter commingling’ (Woodward 1987, 347). Another critic felt the book’s many pictorial illustrations and the ‘virtually indiscriminate mangling of popular and more serious levels of culture unfortunately borders on being a sort of high-toned coffee table book’ (Webb 1988, 1158). John Kenyon characterized Lowenthal’s essay technique as ‘putting forward a proposition, then draping it with a selection of facts in what seems a random and inconsequential way … It is a tribute to the author’s literary skills that he keeps all this under control and keeps in moving along’ (Kenyon 1985; Olwig 2008). Some readers enjoyed the elegant and witty writing: veteran geographer Gordon East found: ‘Professor Lowenthal entertains as he instructs, illustrating abundantly how history is concerned alike with the achievements, follies and antics of Man’ (East 1986, 269). Lowenthal’s technique of adding example to example, sometimes ranging across several centuries and a couple of countries, often in a single, long sentence, evoked diverse reactions. Archaeologist Stuart Piggott found it

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difficult to find any coherent and unifying theme among these ruminations upon an extraordinary collection of magpie information and quotations ranging from the ephemera of journalists to works of serious scholarship … Detail is piled upon uncritical detail … This is pretentious pedantry, and the reader gets bogged down as the author himself seems to be … Professor Lowenthal goes down, not waving but drowning, under the dry but relentless wave of his own Dead Sea of index cards. (Piggott 1986, 152–3)

Some reviewers argued that the most effective section of the book was Lowenthal’s sustained discussion of scholarly, literary and artistic uses of the past in Renaissance Europe, Enlightenment England and France, Victorian Britain, and the USA in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries by virtue of the amount of space allocated to each example. The book’s lack of theoretical underpinning and rigorous analysis, and its scant attention to changing economic conditions and political power relations were also criticized. For example, ‘Capitalism enters the book only on a couple of occasions, both times in the form of ugly industrial transformation that provoked a horrified reaction in favour of a supposedly nobler past’ (Ranger 1987, 1009). Colonialism, nationalism and subaltern voices received scarcely a mention. Geographer Cole Harris likened the book to ‘a museum of attitudes toward the past, a museum that is a little too stuffed with exhibits. After a while, the visitor retreats, impressed but jaded and harbouring a confusion of not-quiteconsolidated recollections’ (Harris 1988, 329). Using comparable imagery, a Polish reviewer remarked that readers might ‘browse among topics and motifs without a consecutive order … While reading, one may freely walk through Lowenthal’s museum and find a surprising amount of curious proofs that the past is constantly present here and now, incarnated in a multitude of shapes’ (Korzeniewska 1998, 304). Robin Datel agreed, noting that some readers felt overwhelmed by examples and qualifications; nonetheless she found the book ‘an impressive synthesis of material on a theme of special importance to Western culture’ (Datel 1987, 363). To Colin Welch, the book was simply ‘a fantastic treasure house’, and Cole Harris acknowledged it as ‘a scholarly tour de force’ that was ‘impressive but … not captivating’ (Harris 1988, 329; Welch 1985, 27). Colleague Bill Mead concluded: In many respects, The Past is a Foreign Country is an extended meditation on a personal hobby-horse. Its ruminations are pleasantly free from polemics

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and ideologies. Most of its sections … begin with a series of pronouncements which are then subjected to an analysis prodigal in supporting quotations. Familiar references jostle with obscure, felicitous with factious, disturbing with diverting. They suggest a remarkable range of reading, the fruits of which have been gathered sometimes purposefully, sometimes at random … This is a book to be read in small doses. It will bewitch some, bother others and bewilder a few. (Mead 1986, 8)

Despite its varied initial reception, the book proved a publishing success, being reprinted several times, revised and expanded thirty years later, and translated into Spanish (1998), Bulgarian (2002), Russian (2004), Japanese and Korean (both 2006). It is ‘the most heavily cited book on heritage ever published, and is held by four times as many libraries globally than the next most popular work’ (Gentry and Smith 2019).

The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History Lowenthal wrote a successor text entitled Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History in the US, and The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History in the UK (Lowenthal 1996b, 1997b, 1998a). Its 338 pages contained 500 bibliographic references and 540 footnotes, but not a single illustration since, unusually for him, he felt he could not resolve the issue of illustrating ideas other than by words (pers. comm. MAL, 15 Nov 2018). In his introduction Lowenthal declared: Heritage passions impact myriad realms of life today. They play a vital role in national and ethnic conflict, in racism and resurgent genetic determinism, in museum and conservation policy, in global theft, illicit trade, and rising demands for repatriating art and antiquities. (Lowenthal 1998a, xiv)

His objectives were threefold: ‘to assess and account for the growth, exponential in pace and global in sweep, of current obsessions with the past’; ‘to explore the tensions generated by heightened patrimonial concerns’; and to ‘distinguish between heritage and history … two routes to the past [that] are habitually confused with each other’ (Lowenthal 1998a, ix–x). He acknowledged that he had exaggerated ‘the gulf between heritage and history’ in his earlier writings, since ‘no aspect of heritage is wholly devoid of historical reality [and] no

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historian’s view is wholly free of heritage bias’ (x). Nonetheless heritage and history have very dissimilar intents, he insisted. The historian, however blinkered and presentist and self-deceived, seeks to convey a past consensually known, open to inspection and proof, continually revised and eroded as time and hindsight outdate its truths. The heritage fashioner, however historically scrupulous, seeks to design a past that will fix the identity and enhance the well-being of some chosen individual or folk. (xi)

Lowenthal examined three central themes, supporting his argument with a plethora of case studies from Britain, the USA, continental Europe, Egypt, the Holy Land and many territories of the global south. After exploring the relationship between history and heritage, he showed how academic history had been transformed in recent decades. History as seen by scholars today means open enquiry into any and every past. But this inclusive perspective is quite new, even in the West. Not only were Africans, Asians, and other natives until recently thought to have no history, so were manual workers, criminals, children, and women. (119)

Lowenthal argued that ‘history and heritage both refashion the past in present garb. But the former does so to make the past comprehensible, the latter to make it congenial’ (148). He exemplified how designation, management and commercialization of heritage operate at a range of scales, with ‘global agencies leading the way in conserving and celebrating national and local legacies. Global codes of practice ally heritage-rich and heritage-greedy lands. Major powers concede the heritage rights of small states and non-sovereign minorities’ (247). Lowenthal concluded that history and heritage are not ‘imposed upon us by the dead hand of remote ancestors or the diktat of bygone autocrats but are our very own. Salvaging the spoils of history, heritage crusaders are amazed to find history itself still in splendid health’ (250). Reviewers of The Heritage Crusade found it less compendious but more argumentative and politically engaging than its predecessor. It compared case studies, for example, discussion of the curious career of the Elgin Marbles was set alongside that of the Benin Bronzes, their meaning changing after they were removed from their place of origin to be venerated in the West; not surprisingly, demands for repatriation followed. As with The Past is a

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Foreign Country, some readers felt overwhelmed by Lowenthal’s ‘cramming examples together’ (Hodges 1997, 96), but William Lamont joked: ‘One day, one suspects, [Lowenthal’s] card indexes will be part of our national heritage’ (Lamont 1999, 309). Lowenthal’s erudition, wit and satire in this ‘rich fabric of examples and anecdotes’ were widely appreciated, as was his serious message about heritage wars that echoed murderous fanaticism in the Balkans, the Near East and elsewhere (Matsuda 1999, 1202). Nuala Johnson highlighted Lowenthal’s skilful handling of the issue of ‘translation’, whereby scholarly findings are packaged into heritage products (Johnson 1998, 508). While lamenting the absence of photographs, Steven Hoelscher concluded that this ‘controversial book will navigate both the specialist and general reader through highly contested terrain. More than just a good guide, Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade is a major literary achievement’ (Hoelscher 1997, 551). Benjamin Filene offered a more nuanced commentary, finding Lowenthal’s ‘exploration of the interrelationship between popular heritage and traditional history … alternately reasoned, fascinating, obstinate, and frustrating’ (Filene 1998, 399–400). Karen Till believed that ‘readers will delight in the book’s eloquent and melodic prose’, while also appreciating ‘Lowenthal’s well-argued and, at times titillating, deliberations about interpretations of the past’ (Till 1997, 558). Archaeologist Dan Fowler maintained that ‘those who make their living within the heritage industry should all read Lowenthal’s book. They may not agree with his interpretations but they will certainly gain a broader understanding of the pervasive uses of the cultural constructs and social practices of heritage throughout the world’ (Fowler 1997, 490). Graham MacDonald drew attention to the book’s extensive bibliography, which is ‘the key to the author’s appraisal and will be of great interest to those involved in museum work, public history, and any branch of heritage’ (MacDonald 2000, 44). Historian John Gillis heaped praise upon David, who ‘knows more about the uses and abuses of the past than anyone I am aware of … His work has laid a firm, forward looking foundation on which to build’ critical explorations of heritage practices (Gillis 1997, 375, 378). Adopting a very different stance, Michael Frisch declared: admirers of The Past is a Foreign Country will be disappointed and dismayed by [this] follow-up volume … For all its wide-ranging intelligence and

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encyclopaedic research, the book reduces to a cranky and muddled polemic. [It] is a book divided against itself, marked by a tension between erudition and attitude. [Those] concerned with the important issues that this new book raises will find Lowenthal’s earlier volume a far more generous, sensitive, and instructive guide to action. (Frisch 1998, 1567–8)

George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation Lowenthal’s next writing project returned to his doctoral monograph, George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter that had been out of print for many years (Lowenthal 1958a). William Cronon, professor of history, geography and environmental studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, approached Lowenthal with the idea of reprinting the biography in the Weyerhaeuser Series. Lowenthal responded enthusiastically but: It became clear that Lowenthal wanted to revise his earlier book quite dramatically in the light of recent scholarship, and that he was willing to revisit archives not just in the United States but in Europe as well to gather a wealth of new documents that had not been readily accessible to him at the time he wrote the first book … The book he would be giving us would not be a reprint at all, but would go well beyond what is ordinarily even called a ‘revision’; it would in fact be a new biography. (Cronon 2000, xii)

Its 606 pages included 110 pages of notes with 1,120 entries (many with several components), a bibliography of more than 300 printed sources, an inventory of archival materials, a list of Marsh’s works, 34 pictorial illustrations and 3 maps. It was indeed a new book of which the first part represented a much expanded biography, enriched by evidence from archival documents lodged in Vermont and Italy, including ‘tens of thousands of letters’ from which Lowenthal extracted ‘crucial, insightful and entertaining’ information (Hall 2001, 120). The remaining two chapters were completely new essays. The first reflected critically on Marsh’s character and sometimes contradictory aspects of his life. Despite his erudition and experience he carried political and cultural grudges, feared Catholicism, despised the Irish and judged most human beings as inferior to White Anglo-Saxon Protestants. The second explored the relevance of his environmental insights in Man and Nature (1864) to his immediate successors and to readers at the dawn of the

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twenty-first century. It is here that Lowenthal ‘prods us to think about what Marsh said and how his thoughts relate to our own view of the modern situation’ (Vale 2002, 162). The lapse of half a century since 1958 forced Lowenthal to re-examine Marsh’s pioneering role as an environmentalist ‘through the lens of new ideas, new attitudes, [and] new insights on how humans impact their world and strive to mend what they seem to derange’ (Lowenthal 2000d, 404). He noted that some scientists now ‘judge Marsh’s environmental insights largely mistaken, others unoriginal or inconsequential. Still others fault the reform programmes he fuelled as technocratic, elitist, socially regressive, imperialist or anthropocentric’ (Lowenthal 2000d, 423). But to Lowenthal such criticisms seem unfounded or irrelevant … The issues that Marsh tackled – deforestation, soil erosion, desertification – are still with us. Marsh’s insights into their causes and consequences are widely agreed, his remedies are still largely germane. But these are not the issues now uppermost in many minds. Fears of untoward impacts today focus more on global warming, depletion of the ozone layer, nuclear contaminants, a host of man-made pollutants. No-one in Marsh’s day was aware of any of these problems. Indeed, most of them did not exist. (423)

George Perkins Marsh offers a biographical narrative very different from the sometimes indigestible compilation of vignettes in The Past is a Foreign Country and The Heritage Crusade. Reviewers found little to fault in Lowenthal’s new book, though Daniel Gade regretted the absence of psychological exploration of Marsh’s ‘burning needs to know’ (Gade 2002, 460). In a similar vein, Mark Stoll wanted ‘deep analysis of the unlovelier aspects of Marsh’s personality’, but he concluded that the new book was ‘well written, well constructed, and thoughtful – valuable as a biography of a fascinating American Victorian amateur scholar, politician, and diplomat, and essential as a contribution to the history of environmental thought’ (Stoll 2006, 841–2). Geoffrey Martin highlighted ‘the fine design [of the text], the gossamer prose, the deft touch, and the very spirit of the biographical that this author brings authoritatively, but with delicacy, to his undertaking’ (Martin 2002, 299). David Livingstone found George Perkins Marsh ‘a work of remarkable industry and insight’, in which the author characteristically demonstrated ‘both wit and wisdom … For Lowenthal is one of our discipline’s great writers,

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the sophistication of his historical imagination amply matched by the richness of his vocabulary, the grace of his prose, and the elegance of his rhetoric. [His book] is a profound contribution to intellectual history and the power of biography to speak to issues of widest importance’ (Livingstone 2002, 351–2). Daniel Gade concluded: George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation represents the maturation and intellectual staying power of a scholar … for more than half a century. It testifies to the value of scholarly re-visitation of themes leading to new insights … It validates the frequently made generalization that humanists, unlike scientists, do their best work later, rather than earlier, in their scholarly lives. It cracks the surprisingly persistent myth that disciplines belong to distinct domains of knowledge. All these become additional reasons for scholarly minded folk to read Lowenthal’s splendid new book. (Gade 2002, 462)

Observing that this volume was ‘more boldly interpretative and more zealously resourceful in pressing the case for Marsh as a prophet of environmental reform’, Lawrence Buell emphasized that ‘this richly illuminating biography immediately becomes the court of primary resort for Marsh’s life and career’ (Buell 2001, 662–3). In the opinion of Marcus Hall, it would surely become ‘one of the classics of environmental biography’ (Hall 2001, 120). In addition, ‘it refreshingly suggests the need for a re-examination of the origins of the environmental movement’ (Dehler 2004). Lowenthal revisited Marsh’s life and legacy in many future publications (Lowenthal 2000e, 2001c, 2004b, 2013b,c, 2016b). With Luisa Quartermaine, he edited diary entries by Caroline, Marsh’s wife, for publication in Italian (Lowenthal 2008c; Marsh 2004).

The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited In the decades following the publication of The Past is a Foreign Country, Lowenthal amassed information that reflected changes in society and new scholarship about the past, and his ideas evolved with ‘the experience of organizing conferences, exhibitions and seminars, and the seismic contextual changes from the end of the Cold War to the onset of new environmental anxieties associated with climatic change’ (Heffernan 2017, 203). The result is The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited, in which he re-examined why

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what seems old or familiar is loved or loathed, and how the past is celebrated, expunged, contested and domesticated (Lowenthal 2015c). Boon or bane, it remains a prime source of personal and collective identity, making the ‘foreign country’ of the past ever more a domesticated product for wide consumption. Present heritage needs give rise to intense rivalry over relics and remains, and over memory and oblivion. In today’s expanded past, nostalgia and heritage pervade public and popular culture. History embraces nature and the cosmos as well as humanity. The past is seen and touched, tasted and smelled, as well as heard and read about. Empathy, re-enactment, memory and commemoration overwhelm academic history. Widely accepted chronicles certified by experts give way to disputed sagas forged by and for the general public (Lowenthal 1989d, 1993, 1998b,c, 2004c, 2005b,c, 2007e, 2011b). Running to 660 pages, The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited is one-third longer than the earlier text, contains 2,800 notes (covering 110 pages), almost 800 bibliographic references and 109 illustrations but no maps. A new section, ‘Disputing the Past’, explores ‘memory, history and relics and deals with ‘Saving the Past’ (preservation and replication), ‘Replacing the Past’ (restoration and re-enactment) and ‘Improving the Past’. Lowenthal created two chapters on nostalgia and time travelling from the original opening chapter, reorganized ‘The Look of Age’ into two chapters embracing aversion and affection, and expanded the old chapter on ‘How we know the Past’ to make three chapters. Taken together these concluding essays ‘reflect the fact that our understanding of what is heritage, and how it is to be interpreted, have become more ramified and complex’ in recent decades (Graves-Brown 2016, 102). Reading The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited one encounters the same structure as in the original book: juxtaposition of multiple examples presented in essay style, emphasis on Anglo-America, avoidance of economic or political theories, lack of attention to women and colonized peoples, rejection of linear argument and absence of brief conclusions. As Marie Price remarked, to read Revisited ‘is like visiting an old friend who has become heftier, more thoughtful, and funnier’ (Price 2017, 204). Breadth of scholarship and depth of knowledge are reinforced by stylistic elegance, encountered in ‘the richness of individual sections, paragraphs, and sentences’ as Lowenthal travels an intellectual route and makes intriguing detours that together offer many new insights (Murphy 2017, 202). But, as with its predecessor, ‘the sheer volume of the work may

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impede the less intrepid from following Professor Lowenthal on the entire journey’ (Colten 2017, 272). Some reviewers regretted the neglect of the recent digital revolution, with Alexander Murphy wishing he had made more effort ‘to delve into the nature and changes in technology, communication and media which have so transformed the world’, including popular access to the past (Murphy 2017, 202). Marie Price argued that television and film should have received more attention ‘because [now] they shape our collective memory more than the works of academics’, but she felt ‘the most striking omission … was the neglect of maps and mapping [as contributions] to our understanding of the past’ (Price 2017, 205). Since Lowenthal neither owned a television set nor listened to recorded music his neglect of televisual issues is unsurprising. He was, however, very familiar with the internet and made great use of academic search engines and published material available online in his later years, since visiting and using libraries had become difficult for him following an injury. David C. Harvey appreciated Lowenthal’s inclusion of ‘even more examples and case studies, sliced, diced, fileted, and commented on’, and his brief mention of the internet and social media, but he regretted that ‘the massive expansion of unofficial, personal, and homespun roadside and other guerrilla memorialization practices never really get a mention’ (Harvey 2017, 207). He felt that: Lowenthal’s method of commentating on juxtaposing a massive depository of examples now seems quaintly old-fashioned in a world of [heritage studies] in which critical discourse analysis, phenomenology, ethnography, and participatory action research are routinely invoked … We end up revisiting a world of scholarship that, although impressive in its fermentation over a seventy-year career, hasn’t really evolved for three decades. (Harvey 2017, 207–8)

Reading the book in 2016, Harvey found it ‘both inspirational and frustrating in almost equal measure’ (Harvey 2017, 208). A few years later, a similar critical stance was developed at length by Kynan Gentry and Laurajane Smith (Gentry and Smith 2019). Like Harvey, Dydia DeLyser also focused on non-elite memorialization and the democratization of access to the past, arguing:

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where once the preserved past included buildings only stately and homes only kingly, it now extends to poor farms and pump houses, and equally to the varied people who live in, work in, or visit such places … More is [now] preserved and more different things are preserved. More people expect to be able to be part of the past and its preservation … The past has protruded into our present, but it is ours to shape. (DeLyser 2017, 209)

By recognizing and supporting this democratization and change of emphasis, she believed David Lowenthal writes ‘not only as master chronicler of our complex shifting engagements, but also as sage advisor’ (DeLyser 2017, 209). True to long-standing personal practice, Lowenthal again ‘drew deeply on a diverse, seemingly contradictory literature, coalesced by his deft observations. The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited is a book that requires a reader’s time, attention, intellectual energy and perseverance. The reward is well worth the effort’ (Melnick 2016, 55). Graham Voce warned readers, if ‘one is uncomfortable with the very wide range in approach of a hugely energetic polymath, then this is not the book for you’, but in his opinion this was ‘a superb survey that always informs and challenges … Lowenthal’s sheer energy, depth of coverage and insights make this accessible, fascinating and essential reading’ (Voce 2016). Alan Lew believed that Revisited ‘is certain to continue to offer inspiration for future scholars seeking to understand heritage, preservation, authenticity and cultural identity’ (Lew 2016, 467). Craig Colten agreed, stating ‘With this volume in hand, we can all travel to the past with greater understanding, sharper vision, clearer goals, and perhaps with better results’ (Colten 2017, 273). Historian Robert Tombs concluded: ‘All those interested in history will learn a lot from this book. Those not interested in it would learn even more’ (Tombs 2015).

Application and appreciation As well as writing, teaching and giving conference presentations, Lowenthal served as adviser to a wide range of national and international heritage organizations, especially during his retirement years. He was consultant to the UNESCO Man and Biosphere Program (MAB) from 1973 to 1981, and

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advised the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) during the 1980s, and again in 1994–5 when he assisted with establishing authenticity criteria for World Heritage Sites (Babaian 1999; Lowenthal 1992e, 1994c). He also assisted the International Council on Museums (ICOM), the World Monuments Fund and the Getty Conservation Institute (Pace 2018). From 1990 onwards, David served as an adviser on heritage and history to the Council of Europe and Europa Nostra, and assisted cultural heritage training programmes in Italy (2000) and Norway (2000–3) (Lowenthal 1999a, 2005de, 2006c). Rolf Diamant recalled how one of David’s visits to Italy was transformed from a book tour into ‘a dialogue on the pressing environmental issues facing Italy at that moment … Like a skilled musician, with near-perfect pitch and timing, I [saw] him deftly transition a lecture on George Perkins Marsh to a larger conversation about civic environmentalism and contemporary stewardship’ (Diamant 2015, 240). Lowenthal also advised the National Trust (UK), the National Trust for Historic Preservation (USA) and the historic parks and landscapes committee of English Heritage (1989–93). In 1991, he shared his expertise with the National Trust of Australia and the Rottnest Island Authority for a management study in Western Australia. From 1987 to 1992, he was an adviser to the Science Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum (1990–95) and the British Museum, all in London (Lowenthal 1999b, 2009b). At a local level, he chaired the residents’ association and conservation area advisory group at Harrow-on-the-Hill. As Anthony Pace, former superintendent of cultural heritage for Malta, remarked: ‘As past master of heritage philosophy, David Lowenthal mentored whole generations [of professionals and scholars]. His perspectives on heritage are outstanding contributions to the modern humanities’ (Pace 2018). A number of Lowenthal’s books earned him distinguished prizes, including an award from the AAG for George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter, the University and Professional Publication (UK) Award for The Past is a Foreign Country, which also received the Historic Preservation (US) Prize. The AAG awarded the J.B. Jackson Prize in 2001 to George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation, which was also a finalist in the British Academy book competition. Subsequently, three sessions of the 2002 meeting of the AAG in Los Angeles were devoted to David’s work and research themes, embracing environment, landscape and the humanities (Bunkše 2003; Olwig 2003a,b). In recognition of

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his outstanding contribution to the advancement of geographical scholarship, he received the Victoria Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society in 1997. This was followed two years later by the Cullum Geographical Medal of the American Geographical Society, and in 2004 by the Royal Scottish Geographical Society Medal. In 2001 Lowenthal was elected a Senior Fellow of the British Academy. Further scholarly recognition included the European Heritage Association Award (2006), an honorary doctorate from the Memorial University of Newfoundland (2008), and the Forbes Lecture Prize from the International Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works (2010), in recognition of ‘sixty years of influential lectures and publications on the significance and problems of conservation, his pioneering efforts in defining conservation goals, and his services to national and international heritage agencies and institutions’ (Lowenthal 2010). In 2016, at the age of ninetythree Lowenthal received the British Academy Medal for The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited. The award honoured ‘a landmark academic achievement which has transformed understanding in the humanities and social sciences’ in a book that explores ‘the manifold ways in which history engages, illuminates and deceives us in the here and now’ (AAG 2016). Lowenthal created a veritable polyphony of scholarship, with differing emphasis on a wide range of themes as the years and decades passed. In retirement, his focus shifted emphatically towards heritage studies without forgetting Marsh, but he also kept a watchful eye on academic geography (Lowenthal 1990b, 2000f, 2002a, 2011c). Cole Harris acknowledged the ‘erudition, wit, and brilliance’ of David’s writing, but felt that ‘his interests were never quite in the geographical mainstream. [Since], as a man of letters, he regrets the passing of a tradition of scholarship that emphasized classical authors, the Bible, and a conversation of minds throughout the ages – the opposite of the contemporary gallop to the research frontier’ (Harris 1988, 329–30). In his final book Lowenthal reiterated that regret, arguing that: ‘To converse, to compare, to contrast, even to consult Wikipedia with an essential critical eye requires a stock of common knowledge no longer in communal awareness’ (Lowenthal 2019a, 170). John Western characterized David as ‘urbane, erudite, a conversationalist, a man of humour. He brought renown to academic geography’ (pers. comm. John Western, 11 Nov 2018). Of course, his target audience was broader than

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geography and history, as befitted a scholar who ‘hated disciplines’ and was ‘constantly crossing boundaries’ (pers. comm, Sverker Sӧrlin, 4 Dec 2018). After being informed of Lowenthal’s death, Jacquie Burgess replied: ‘I shall always remember him as one of the most erudite and witty people I’ve ever met. And his wicked grin! Especially after a couple of his martinis which could easily blow your head off ’ (pers. comm. Jacquie Burgess, 10 Oct 2018). Perhaps with tongue in cheek, David entitled one of his essays ‘The Past as a Theme Park’ (Lowenthal 2002b). His friend, art historian Charles Saumarez Smith, declared: ‘David Lowenthal was old and wise, unbelievably well read on every topic, and fascinatingly unclassifiable as a man of learning – like his books’ (Saumarez Smith, message dated 19 Sept 2018). His insatiable curiosity, incisive analysis and critique, wit as a storyteller and unfailing kindness will be sorely missed (Silberman 2018, 243). To give him the final word: ‘Discussion is vital: for the world to be sustainable, it must first be conversable’ (Lowenthal 2003c, 885).

Acknowledgements I am most grateful for advice and information to Trevor Barnes, Susan Berry, Jacquie Burgess, Colin Clarke, Ron Cooke, Claudette Edwards, the late Ron Johnston, Michael Jones, Richard Munton, David Robinson, Sverker Sӧrlin, Verna Tuttle, John Western, members of the Lowenthal family on both sides of the Atlantic, and especially Mary Alice Lowenthal.

Bibliography and sources An interview with archaeologist Yannis Hamilakis, recorded in Lowenthal’s London home on 28 January 2017, is transcribed (Lowenthal and Hamilakis (2017) and available as a video (vimeo.com/246465145). Three autobiographical manuscripts ‘David Lowenthal: childhood, schooling, army’, ‘From infantry to intelligence in wartime France, 1944–45’ and ‘Jean Gottmann: war and peace memories’ (published in French as Lowenthal (2007a)) were kindly supplied by David and by Mary Alice. Documentary material relating to Max Lowenthal

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is housed at the T.C. Andersen University Archives, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis; and to John Lowenthal at the Tamiment Library and Robert F. Wagner Labor Archive, New York University.

1. References on David Lowenthal and his intellectual milieu AAG (2016), ‘David Lowenthal Receives the British Academy Medal’, American Association of Geographers, 12 October, news.aag.org/2016/10/david-lowenthalreceives-the-british-academy-medal/. Anon. (2018a), ‘Professor David Lowenthal, author and polymath’, The Times 11 October. Anon. (2018b), ‘David Lowenthal, charismatic cultural historian’, The Telegraph 30 October. Anon. (2018c), ‘David Lowenthal, historian and professor’, Vineyard Gazette 20 December. Babaian, S. (1999), ‘David Lowenthal on public history: An interview’, Material Culture Review/ Revue de culture matérielle 50, 1–10. Barnes, T. and Clout, H. (2019), ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018’, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows of the British Academy. Bunkše, E. (2003), ‘Commentary on the Lowenthal Papers: Environment, the humanities, and landscape’, Annals of the AAG 93, 882–4. Clout, H. (2018a), ‘David Lowenthal, scholar who established heritage studies’, Guardian 27 September. Clout, H. (2018b), ‘David Lowenthal: Obituary’, Newsletter of the Historical Geography Research Group (Autumn issue), 7–8. Clout, H. (2019), ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018’, Geographical Journal 185, 127–8. Cronon, W. (2000), ‘Foreword: Look back to look forward’, in D. Lowenthal, George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation. Seattle: University of Washington Press, ix–xiii. Diamant, R. (2015), ‘Marsh and Mayors: With David Lowenthal in Italy’, The George Wright Forum 33, 238–41. Dizard, J. E. (2013), ‘George Perkins Marsh: The uneasy relationship between elegy and prophecy’, in L. M. Dolling (ed.), George Perkins Marsh: An American for all Seasons. Hoboken, NJ: Stevens Institute of Technology, 18–31. Edwards, S. and Wilson, J. (2014), ‘Do we do the past differently now? An interview with David Lowenthal’, Consumption, Markets and Culture 17, 105–19. Fairchild, W. B. (1979), ‘Two eastern institutions: The Geographical Review and the American Geographical Society’, Annals of the AAG 69, 33–8.

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Flad, H. K. (2004), ‘Audubon terrace, the American Geographical Society, and the sense of place’, Geographical Review 94, 519–29. Flad, H. K. (2011), ‘The history of earth science and geography at Vassar College’, Poughkeepsie, Vassar College online, 2 January, https://earthscienceandgeography. vassar.edu/department-history/. Fraser, P. and Heuman, G. (2018), ‘Letter: David Lowenthal’, Guardian 14 October. Gentry, K. and Smith, L. (2019), ‘Critical heritage studies and the legacies of the latetwentieth century canon’, International Journal of Heritage Studies, https://doi-org. libproxy.ucl.ac.uk/10.1080/13527258.2019.1570964. Gold, J. R. (2009), ‘Lowenthal, D.’, in R. Kitchin and N. Thrift (eds), International Encyclopedia of Human Geography. Oxford: Elsevier, 298–9. Middleton, C. A. (1981), ‘Environmental experience in modern literature’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of London (UCL). Marsh, C. (2004), Un’ Americana alla corte dei Savoia: Il diario dell’ambasciatrice degli Stati Uniti in Italia dal 1861 al 1865. Turin: Umberto Allemandi. (Edited by D. Lowenthal and translated by L. Quartermaine). Monk, J. (2003), ‘Women’s worlds at the American Geographical Society’, Geographical Review 93, 237–57. Olwig, K. R. (2003a), ‘Introduction: The Lowenthal papers’, Annals of the AAG 93, 851. Olwig, K. R. (2003b), ‘Landscape: The Lowenthal legacy’, Annals of the AAG 93, 871–7. Olwig, K. R. (2008), ‘David Lowenthal, du crible de ses essais sur le paysage, l’environnement et le patrimoine’, in D. Lowenthal, Passage du temps sur le paysage. Gollion, Switzerland: Infolio, 6–11. Olwig, K. R. (2019), ‘In memoriam: A consummate scholar, David Lowenthal (26 April 1923–15 September 2018). A personal memory’, Landscape Research 44, 112–6. Pace, A. (2018), ‘Remembering David Lowenthal, 1923–2018’, The Times of Malta 4 November. Paquot, T. (2019), ‘David Lowenthal (1923–2018). Tout paysage est pluriel’, Hermès, La Revue 83, 277–81. [Pavillon Populaire] (2017), Notes sur l’asphalte, une Amérique mobile et précaire, 1950–1990. Montpellier: Laboratoire Culturel. Seddon, G. (2003), ‘David Lowenthal: A tribute’, Journal of Australian Studies 27, 1–4. Silberman, N. A. (2018), ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018’, International Journal of Cultural Property 25, 241–3. Thomas-Hope, E. (2019), ‘David Lowenthal, 1923–2018. A geographer par excellence’, Caribbean Quarterly 65, 123–5. Warntz, W. (1984), ‘Trajectories and co-ordinates’, in M. Billinge, Gregory, D. and Martin, R. (eds), Recollections of a Revolution: Geography as Spatial Science. London: Macmillan, 134–50.

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2. Selected reviews of works by David Lowenthal Abrahams, R. (1973), ‘West Indian Societies’, Hispanic American Historical Review 53, 355–6. Bryan, A. (1975), ‘West Indian Perspectives’, Hispanic American Historical Review 55, 329–30. Buell, L. (2001), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, Journal of American History 88, 662–3. Carruthers, J. (2019), ‘Quest for the Unity of Knowledge’, Transactions of the Royal Society of South Africa, 74, 100–1. Clarke, C. G. (1972), ‘West Indian Societies’, Geographical Journal 138, 503–4. Colten, C. E. (2017), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, Journal of Cultural Geography 34, 271–3. Craig, S. (1974), ‘West Indian Societies’, Social and Economic Studies 23, 127–39. Datel, R. (1987), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, Geographical Review 77, 363–5. Dehler, G. J. (2004), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, H– Environment, H–Net Reviews, December, https://www.h-net.org/reviews/ showrev.php?id=10069. DeLyser, L. (2017), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, AAG Review of Books 5, 208–10. East, W. G. (1986), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, Geographical Journal 152, 269. Filene, B. (1998), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Annals of Iowa 57, 399–401. Fowler, D. (1997), ‘A plurality of pasts’, Antiquity 71, 488–90. Frisch, M. (1998), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, American Historical Review 103, 1567–8. Gade, D. W. (2002), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, Geographical Review 92, 460–2. Gade, D. W. (2014), ‘The continuing quest to understand Carl Sauer’, AAG Review of Books 2, 116–21. Gillis, J. R. (1997), ‘Heritage and History: Twins separated at birth’, Reviews in American History 25, 375–8. Glacken, C. J. (1959), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter’, Geographical Review 49, 437–8. Graves-Brown, P. (2016), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, Heritage and Society 9, 102–3. Hall, M. (1998), ‘Restoring the countryside: George Perkins Marsh and the Italian land ethic’, Environment and History 4, 91–103.

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Hall, M. (2001), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation: A conversation with David Lowenthal’, Environmental History 6, 118–22. Harris, R. C. (1988), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, Journal of Historical Geography 14, 329–30. Heffernan, M. (2017), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, AAG Review of Books 5, 203–4, 206–8. Hodges, G. R. (1997), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, New York History 78, 95–6. Hoelscher, S. (1997), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Annals of the AAG 87, 549–51. Innis, D. Q. (1974), ‘West Indian Perspectives’, Geographical Review 64, 437–9. Johnson, N. (1998), ‘The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Journal of Historical Geography 24, 506–8. Kenyon, J. P. (1985), ‘Antiquarian ruminations’, The Observer 14 November. Korzeniewska, K. (1998), ‘The world is a museum’, Polish Sociological Review 123, 299–304. Lamont, W. (1999), ‘The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Historical Journal 42, 309–10. Lew, A. A. (2016), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, Tourism Geographies 18, 465–7. Lewis, G. K. (1963), ‘The West Indies Federation’, Science and Society 27, 500–2. Livingstone, D. (2002), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, Social and Cultural Geographies 3, 351–3. MacDonald, G. (2000), ‘The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Manitoba History 39, 42–4. Martin, G. J. (2002), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, Professional Geographer 54, 298–9. Matsuda, M. (1999), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, American Journal of Sociology 104, 1200–2. Mead, W. R. (1986), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, London Review of Books 8 (9), 8. Melnick, R. Z. (2016), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, Journal of Preservation Technology 47, 55. Murphy, A. B. (2017), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, AAG Review of Books 5, 201–3. Muscarà, L. (2019), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, Journal of Historical Geography 64, 107–9. Piggott, S. (1986), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, Antiquity 60, 152–3.

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Price, M. (2017), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, AAG Review of Books 5, 204–6. Ranger, T. (1987), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, American Journal of Sociology 92, 1008–9. Stoll, M. (2006), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, American Historical Review 111, 841–2. Till, K. (1997), ‘Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History’, Geographical Review 87, 557–9. Tombs, R. (2015), ‘Why the past really isn’t what it used to be’, Evening Standard, 17 December. Vale, T. R. (2002), ‘George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation’, Annals of the AAG 92, 161–2. Voce, G. (2016), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited’, review posted online 19 August, https://www.iiconservation.org/node/6547. Webb, E. (1988), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, American Historical Review 91, 1158–9. Welch, C. (1985), ‘Gone before but not lost’, Spectator 23 November, 27. Woodward, C. V. (1987), ‘The Past is a Foreign Country’, History and Theory 26, 346–52. Wynn, G. (2019), ‘How it all comes together – sometimes; Quest for the Unity of Knowledge’, Journal of Historical Geography 64, 104–7.

3. Selected works by David Lowenthal 1951 ‘The Maine press and the Aroostook war’, Canadian Historical Review 32, 315–36. 1952 ‘Colonial experiments in French Guiana, 1760–1800’, Hispanic American Historical Review 32, 22–43. 1953 ‘George Perkins Marsh and the American geographical tradition’, Geographical Review 43, 207–13. 1955 ‘Economic tribulations in the Caribbean: A case study of the British West Indies’, Inter-American Economic Affairs 9, 67–81. 1956 ‘The common and undivided lands of Nantucket’, Geographical Review 46, 399–403. 1957a ‘George Perkins Marsh and Scandinavian studies’, Scandinavian Studies 29 (2), 41–52. 1957b ‘The population of Barbados’, Social and Economic Studies 6, 445–501. 1957c ‘Two federations’, Social and Economic Studies 6, 185–96.

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1958a George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter. New York: Columbia University Press. 1958b ‘The West Indies chooses a capital’, Geographical Review 48, 336–64. 1960a ‘Population contrasts in the Guianas’, Geographical Review 50, 41–58. 1960b ‘French Guiana: Myths and realities’, Transactions of the New York Academy of Sciences 22, 528–40. 1960c ‘George Perkins Marsh on the nature and purpose of geography’, Geographical Journal 126, 413–7. 1960d ‘Physical resources’ [of the British Caribbean], in G. E. Cumper (ed.), The Economy of the West Indies. Kingston: Institute of Social and Economic Research, 266–72. 1960e ‘The range and variation of Caribbean societies’, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 83, 786–95. 1961a ‘Caribbean views of Caribbean lands’, Canadian Geographer 5, 1–9. 1961b (editor) The West Indies Federation: Perspectives on a New Nation. New York: Columbia University Press. 1961c ‘The social background of West Indian Federation’ in D. Lowenthal (ed.), The West Indies Federation: Perspectives on a New Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 63–96. 1961d ‘Geography, experience, and imagination: Towards a geographical epistemology’, Annals of the AAG 51, 241–60. 1962a ‘Levels of West Indian government’, Social and Economic Studies 11, 363–91. 1962b ‘Not every prospect pleases: What is our criterion for landscape beauty?’, Landscape 12(2), 19–23. 1962 (with L. Comitas) ‘Emigration and depopulation: Some neglected aspects of population geography’, Geographical Review 52, 195–210. 1964 ‘Is wilderness “Paradise Enow”? Images of nature in America’, Columbia University Forum 7 (2), 34–40. 1964 (with H. C. Prince) ‘The English landscape’, Geographical Review 54, 309–46. 1965a (editor) Man and Nature, by George Perkins Marsh. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1965b ‘Introduction’, in G. P. Marsh, Man and Nature. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ix–xxix. 1965 (with H. C. Prince) ‘English landscape tastes’, Geographical Review 55, 186–222. 1966a ‘The American way of history’, Columbia University Forum 9 (3), 27–32. 1966b ‘Public attitudes on environmental quality; assumptions behind the public attitudes’, in H. Jarrett (ed.), Environmental Quality in a Growing Economy. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 128–37. 1967a ‘Race and color in the West Indies’, Daedalus 96, 580–626.

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1967b (editor) Environmental Perception and Behavior. Chicago: University of Chicago Geography Department Research Paper 109. 1968a ‘The American scene’, Geographical Review 58, 61–88. 1968b ‘Daniel Boone is dead’, Natural History 57 (7), 8–16, 64–7. 1969 ‘John Kirtland Wright, 1891–1969’, Geographical Review 59, 598–604. 1969 (with H. C. Prince) ‘English façades’, Architectural Association Quarterly 1, 50–64. 1970a ‘Recreation habits and values: Implications for landscape quality’, in P. Dansereau (ed.), Challenge for Survival: Land, Air, and Water for Man in Megalopolis. New York: Columbia University Press, 103–17. 1970b ‘The environmental crusade: Ideals and realities’, Landscape Architecture 60, 290–6, 343. 1971 ‘Post-emancipation race relations: Some Caribbean and American perspectives’, Journal of Inter-American Studies and World Affairs 13, 367–77. 1972a ‘Black power in the Caribbean context’, Economic Geography 48, 116–34. 1972b West Indian Societies. New York: Oxford University Press and American Geographical Society. 1972c ‘Research in environmental perception and behavior’, Environment and Behavior 4, 333–42. 1972d Environmental Assessment: A Case Study of Boston. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972e Environmental Assessment: A Case Study of Cambridge, Massachusetts. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972f Environmental Assessment: A Case Study of Columbus, Ohio. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972g Environmental Assessment: A Comparative Analysis of Four Cities. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972a (with M. Riel) ‘The nature of perceived and imagined environments’, Environment and Behavior 4, 189–207. 1972b (with M. Riel) Environmental Structures: Semantic and Experiential Components. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972c (with M. Riel) Milieu and Observer Differences in Environmental Associations. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972d (with M. Riel) Environmental Assessment: A Case Study of New York City. New York: American Geographical Society. 1972e (with M. Riel) Structures of Environmental Associations. New York: American Geographical Society. 1973a ‘Free colored West Indians: A racial dilemma’, in H. L. Pagliaro (ed.), Racism in the Eighteenth Century, vol. 3. Cleveland: Western Case Reserve University Press, 335–54.

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1973b ‘The Caribbean region’, in M. W. Mikesell (ed.), Geographers Abroad: Essays on the Problems and Prospects of Research in Foreign Areas. Chicago: University of Chicago Geography Department Research Paper 152, 47–69. 1973a (editor, with L. Comitas) West Indian Perspectives: Slaves, Free Men, Citizens. New York: Anchor Press. 1973b (editor, with L. Comitas) West Indian Perspectives: Consequences of Class and Color. New York: Anchor Press. 1973c (editor, with L. Comitas) West Indian Perspectives: Work and Family Life. New York: Anchor Press. 1973d (editor, with L. Comitas) West Indian Perspectives: The Aftermath of Sovereignty. New York: Anchor Press. 1975 ‘Past time, present place: Landscape and memory’, Geographical Review 65, 1–36. 1976a ‘The place of the past in the American landscape’, in D. Lowenthal and M. J. Bowden (eds), Geographies of the Mind. New York: Oxford University Press, 89–117. 1976b ‘Perceiving the Australian environment’, in G. Seddon and M. Davis (eds), Man and Landscape in Australia: Towards an Ecological Vision. Canberra: Australian Government Publication Company, 357–65. 1976 (editor, with M. J. Bowden) Geographies of the Mind. New York: Oxford University Press. 1976 (with H. C. Prince) ‘Transcendental experience’, in S. Wapner, S. Cohen and B. Kaplan (eds), Experiencing the Environment. New York: Plenum Press, 117–31. 1977 ‘The bicentennial landscape: A mirror held up to the past’, Geographical Review 67, 253–67. 1977 (with C. G. Clarke) ‘The past of a negro myth: Slave breeding in Barbuda’, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 272, 510–35. 1978a ‘Australian images: The unique present, the mythical past’, in P. Quartermaine (ed.), Readings in Australian Arts. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 84–93. 1978b ‘Finding valued landscapes’, Progress in Human Geography 2, 373–418. 1979a ‘Environmental perception: Preserving the past’, Progress in Human Geography 3, 549–59. 1979b ‘Age and artefact: Dilemmas of appreciation’, in D. W. Meinig (ed.), The Interpretation of Ordinary Landscapes. New York: Oxford University Press, 103–28. 1980 ‘Age and beauty’, in J. Appleton (ed.), The Aesthetics of Landscape. Didcot: Rural Planning Services, 46–67. 1980 (with C. G. Clarke) ‘Island orphans: Barbuda and the rest’, Journal of Commonwealth and Comparative Politics 18, 293–307.

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1981 ‘Dilemmas of preservation’, in D. Lowenthal and M. Binney (eds), Our Past Before Us: Why Do We Save It? London: Temple Smith, 213–37. 1981 (editor, with M. Binney) Our Past Before Us: Why Do We Save It? London: Temple Smith. 1982a ‘The pioneer landscape: An American dream’, Great Plains Quarterly 2, 5–19. 1982b ‘Revisiting valued landscapes’, in J. Gold and J. Burgess (eds), Valued Environments. London: George Allen & Unwin, 74–99. 1982 (with C. G. Clarke) ‘Caribbean small island sovereignty: Chimera or convention?’, in U. Fanger (ed.), Problems of Caribbean Development. Munich: Fink, 223–42. 1983 ‘Conserving the heritage: Anglo–American comparisons’, in J. Patten (ed.), The Expanding City: Essays in Honour of Professor Jean Gottmann. London: Academic Press, 225–76. 1985a ‘Mobility and identity in the island Pacific: A critique’, Pacific Viewpoint 26, 316–26. 1985b The Past is a Foreign Country. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1986 (editor, with E. C. Penning-Rowsell) Landscape Meanings and Values. London: Allen & Unwin. 1987a ‘Environmental perception: An odyssey of ideas’, Journal of Environmental Psychology 7, 337–46. 1987b ‘Social features [of small states]’, in C. Clarke and T. Payne (eds), Politics, Security and Development in Small States. London: Allen & Unwin, 26–49. 1988 ‘Classical antiquities as national and global heritage’, Antiquity 62, 726–35. 1989a ‘The timeless past: Some Anglo–American preconceptions’, Journal of American History 75, 1263–80. 1989b ‘Archaeologists and others’, in P. Gathercole and D. Lowenthal (eds), The Politics of the Past. London: Unwin Hyman, 302–14. 1989c ‘Size and statehood: The geography of politics’, in R. Maltby and P. Quartermaine (eds), The Commonwealth: A Common Culture? Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 79–94. 1989d ‘Nostalgia tells it like it wasn’t’, in M. Chase and C. Shaw (eds), The Imagined Past. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 18–32. 1989 (editor, with P. Gathercole) The Politics of the Past. London: Unwin Hyman. 1990a ‘Uses of the past in Australia’, in B. Hocking (ed.), Australia Towards 2000. London: Macmillan, 46–54. 1990b ‘Awareness of human impacts: Changing attitudes and emphases’, in B. L. Turner II, W. C. Clark, R. W. Kates, J. F. Richards, J. T. Mathews and W. B. Meyer (eds), The Earth as Transformed by Human Action: Global and Regional Changes

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in the Biosphere over the Past 300 Years. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 121–35. 1991a ‘Heritage and the English landscape’, History Today 41 (September), 7–10. 1991b ‘British national identity and the English landscape’, Rural History 2, 205–30. 1992a ‘Counterfeit art: Authentic fakes?, International Journal of Cultural Property 1(1), 79–103. 1992b ‘Icons of European landscape heritage’, in Management of Public Access to the Heritage Landscape. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Press, 37–47. 1992c ‘Les paysages européens comme symboles nationaux’, Paysage et Aménagement 21, 14–23. 1992d ‘Small tropical islands: A general overview’, in H. M. Hintjens and M. D. D. Newitt (eds), The Political Economy of Small Tropical Islands: The Importance of Being Small. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 18–29. 1992e ‘Authenticity? The dogma of self-delusion’, in M. Jones (ed.), Why Fakes Matter: Essays on Problems of Authenticity. London: British Museum Press, 184–92. 1993 ‘Memory and oblivion’, Museum Management and Curatorship 12, 171–82. 1994a ‘European and English landscapes as national symbols’, in D. Hooson (ed.), Geography and National Identity. Oxford: Blackwell, 15–38. 1994b ‘Identity, heritage, and history’, in J. R. Gillis (ed.), Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 41–57. 1994c ‘Criteria of authenticity’, in K. E. Larsen and N. Marstein (eds), Conference on Authenticity in Relation to the World Heritage Convention. Oslo: Tapir Forlag/ Riksantikvaren, 35–64. 1995 ‘Heritages for Europe’, International Journal of Cultural Property 4 (2), 377–81. 1996a ‘Paysages et identités nationales’, in M. Jollivet and N. Eisner (eds), L’Europe et ses campagnes. Paris: Presses Sciences Po, 245–71. 1996b Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History. New York: Free Press. 1997a ‘Remarks upon receipt of the Victoria Medal’, Geographical Journal 163, 355. 1997b The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History. London: Viking. 1998a The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History (paperback). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1998b ‘Fabricating heritage’, History and Memory 10 (1), 5–24. 1998c ‘La fabrication d’un héritage’, in D. Poulot (ed.), Patrimoine et modernité. Paris: L’Harmattan, 107–27. 1999a ‘From landscapes of the future to landscapes of the past’, Norwegian Geographical Journal 53, 139–44. 1999b ‘White elephants and ivory towers: Embattled museums. The British Museum’s A.W. Franks Lecture 1999’, Museum Management and Curatorship 18, 173–81.

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2000a ‘Environment as heritage’, in K. Flint and H. Morphy (eds), Culture, Landscape and the Environment: The Linacre Lectures. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 197–216. 2000b ‘Old World eyes, New World scenes: Embellishing divergence’, in Humanizing landscapes: Geography, Culture and the Magoon Collection. Frances Loeb Art Center, Vassar College: Poughkeepsie, 1–20. 2000c ‘European Identity: An emerging concept’, Australian Journal of Politics and History 46, 314–21. 2000d George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation. Seattle: University of Washington Press. 2000e ‘Nature and morality from George Perkins Marsh to the millennium’, Journal of Historical Geography 26, 3–27. 2000f ‘Environmental history: From the Conquest to the Rescue of Nature’, in A. B. Murphy and D. L. Johnson (eds), Cultural Encounters with the Environment: Enduring and Evolving Geographical Themes. New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 177–200. 2001a Seen from the Other Shore: English and American Landscape Visions: The John Christie Lecture 2000. Poughkeepsie, NY: Vassar College. 2001b ‘Environmental history: From Genesis to Apocalypse’, History Today 51 (April), 36–42. 2001c Forest Stewardship: Marsh, Pinchot, and America Today. Pinchot Institute for Conservation Distinguished Lecture. Milford, PA: Grey Towers Press. 2002a ‘The disenchanted future’, in R. D. Sack (ed.), Progress: Geographical Essays. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 61–77. 2002b ‘The past as a theme park’, in T. Young and R. Riley (eds), Theme Park Landscapes: Antecedents and Variations. Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library, 11–23. 2003a ‘Nature and nation: Britain and America in the nineteenth century’, History Today 53 (December), 18–25. 2003b ‘Introduction’, in Man and Nature, by G. P. Marsh. Seattle: University of Washington Press, xv–xxxvii. 2003c ‘Postscript [to the Lowenthal Papers]’, Annals of the AAG 93, 885. 2004a ‘The island garden: English landscape and British identity’, in H. Brocklehurst and R. Phillips (eds), History, Nationhood and the Question of Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 137–48. 2004b ‘Marsh at Cravairola: Boundary making in the Italo-Swiss Alps’, Environment and History 10, 203–33. 2004c ‘The heritage crusade and its contradictions’, in M. Page and R. Mason (eds), Giving Preservation a History. New York: Routledge, 19–43.

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2005a ‘Fruitful liaison or folie à deux? The Association of American Geographers and the American Geographical Society’, Professional Geographer 57, 468–73. 2005b ‘Why sanctions seldom work: Reflections on cultural property internationalism’, International Journal of Cultural Property 12 (3), 391–421. 2005c ‘Natural and cultural heritage’, International Journal of Heritage Studies 11, 81–92. 2005d ‘Island owning and sharing’, in T. Peil and M. Jones (eds), Landscape, Law and Justice. Oslo: Novus Forlag, 209–19. 2005e ‘Stewarding the future’, CRM: The Journal of Heritage Stewardship 2 (2), 6–25. 2006a ‘Mediterranean crossroads: International Archaeological Conference on Movements of People and Movement of Cultures’, International Journal of Cultural Property 13, 435–7. 2006b ‘From harmony of the spheres to national anthems: Reflections on national heritage’, GeoJournal 65, 3–15. 2006c ‘Stewarding the future’, Norwegian Geographical Journal 60, 15–23. 2006 (editor, with K. R. Olwig) The Nature of Cultural Heritage and the Nature of Natural Heritage: Northern Perspectives on a Contested Patrimony. London: Routledge. 2007a ‘Mémoires de temps de guerre et de la paix’, in L’Orbite de la Géographie de Jean Gottmann, La Géographie 1523bis (special number), 190–4. 2007b ‘Living with and looking at landscape’, Landscape Research 32, 635–56. 2007c ‘Islands, lovers and others’, Geographical Review 97, 202–29. 2007d ‘The Mediterranean between history and heritage’, in S. Antoniadou and A. Pace (eds), Mediterranean Crossroads. Athens: Pierides Museum, 661–90. 2007e ‘The past of the future: From the foreign to the undiscovered country’, in K. Jenkins, S. Morgan and A. Munslow (eds), Manifestos for History. London: Routledge, 205–19. 2007 (with C. Clarke), ‘The triumph of the commons: Barbuda belongs to all Barbudians together’, in J. Besson and J. Momsen (eds), Caribbean Land Development Revisited. New York: Palgrave, 147–58. 2008a Passage du temps sur le paysage (trans. M. Enckell). Gollion, Switzerland: Infolio. 2008b ‘Mediterranean heritage: Ancient marvel, modern millstone’, Nations and Nationalism 14, 369–92. 2008c ‘The marriage of choice and the marriage of convenance: A New England Puritan views Risorgimento Italy’, Journal of Social History 42, 157–74. 2009a ‘On arraigning ancestors: A critique of historical contrition’, North Carolina Law Review 87, 901–66.

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2009b ‘Patrons, populists, apologists: Crises in museum stewardship’, in L. Gibson (ed.), Valuing Historic Environments. London: Ashgate, 19–31. 2010 ‘Omens from the Mediterranean: Conservation nostrums in Mare Nostrum’, Studies in Conservation 55, 231–41. 2011a ‘Why the past matters’, Heritage and Society 4, 159–72. 2011b ‘Prizing the past for the present and the future’, British Academy Review 18 (Summer 2011), 34–40. 2011c ‘Restoration: Synoptic reflections’, in S. Daniels, D. DeLyser, J. N. Entrikin and D. Richardson (eds), Envisioning Landscapes, Making Worlds: Geography and the Humanities. London: Routledge, 209–26. 2013a ‘Eden, Earth Day and Ecology: Landscape restoration as metaphor and mission’, Landscape Research 38, 5–31. 2013b ‘Marsh in his time and in ours’, in L. M. Dolling (ed.), George Perkins Marsh: An American for All Seasons. Hoboken: Stevens Institute of Technology, 1–17. 2013c ‘Marsh and Sauer: Reexamining the rediscovery’, Geographical Review 103, 409–14. 2014a ‘Foreword’, in M. Williams with D. Lowenthal and W. Denevan, To Pass on a Good Earth: The Life and Work of Carl O. Sauer. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, vii–xi. 2014b ‘Albion’s other islets: Off-shore, overseas, and out of sorts’, Geographical Review 104, 101–8. 2015a ‘Geography, history, and heritage: A Mediterranean overview’, in T. Terkenli, A. Douguédroit and L. F. Cassar (eds), Connections, Mobilities, Urban Prospects and Environmental Threats: The Mediterranean in Transition. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 1–50. 2015b ‘The scourging of Sark’, Island Studies Journal 10, 253–8. 2015c The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2016a ‘Facing up to the deplorable past’, Perspectives on History, 12 May. 2016b ‘Origins of Anthropocene awareness’, Anthropocene Review 3, 52–63. 2017 ‘Canadian historical nonchalance and Newfoundland exceptionalism’, Acadiensis 46, 152–62. 2017 (with Y. Hamilakis), ‘A conversation with David Lowenthal’ [on 28 January], Annual Reviews Conversations 1–18, http://www.annualreviews.org/do/10.1146/ do.multimedia.2017.12.08.01/abs. 2018 ‘Stewarding disputed heritage: Private property, tribal legacy, national patrimony, global commons’, in A. Arregui, G. Mackenthun and S. Wodianka (eds), Decolonial Heritage: Natures, Cultures and the Asymmetries of Memory. Münster: Waxmann, 31–54.

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2019a Quest for the Unity of Knowledge. London: Routledge. 2019b ‘A sea-change rich and strange’, in F. Bewer and H. Hӧlling (eds), The Explicit Material: Inquiries on the Intersection of Curatorial and Conservation Cultures. Leiden: Brill, 17–63. David Lowenthal’s total body of publication comprises 8 single author books, 12 edited volumes, over 150 substantial articles, 115 book chapters and numerous brief reports, notes, encyclopaedia entries and book reviews.

Chronology 1923

Born New York City, 26 April

1940–3

Studied at Harvard University; graduated BS in history

1943–5

Military service with US 44th Infantry Division in Europe

1945–6

Worked on the Intelligence Photographic Documentation Project

1947–9

Studied at University of California, Berkeley; graduated MA in geography 1950

1949–52

Studied at University of Wisconsin, Madison; graduated PhD in history 1953

1952

Presented paper on George Perkins Marsh at 17th IGC, Washington DC

1952–6

Taught at Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York State

1956–72

Research associate of the American Geographical Society; held a variety of visiting professorships in US

1956–7

Fulbright Research Fellowship at the University of the West Indies

1958

Publication of George Perkins Marsh: Versatile Vermonter

1960

Presented paper on ‘Geography, experience and imagination’ at 19th IGC, Stockholm

1960–2

Recipient of Rockefeller Research Grant

1961

Publication of The West Indies Federation

1962–3

Visiting researcher at University College London

1964

Attended 20th IGC, London; publication of ‘English landscapes’, with Hugh Prince

1965

Publication of ‘English landscape tastes’, with Hugh Prince

1970

Married Mary Alice Lamberty, 16 October

1972

Appointed professor of geography, University College London; publication of West Indian Societies

1973

Publication of West Indian Perspectives, 4 volumes, edited with Lambros Comitas

1976

Publication of Geographies of the Mind, edited with Martyn Bowden

1981

Publication of Our Past before Us: Why Do We Save It?, edited with Marcus Binney

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1984–9

Chair of Landscape Research Group

1985

Retired from University College London; made professor emeritus and honorary research fellow; publication of The Past is a Foreign Country

1986

Publication of Landscape Meanings and Values, edited with Edmund Penning-

1989

Publication of Politics of the Past, edited with Peter Gathercole

Rowsell 1995–2000 Taught heritage studies at St Mary’s University College, Twickenham 1996–8

Publication of Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History (several editions)

1997

Awarded Victoria Medal, Royal Geographical Society

1999

Awarded Cullum Geographical Medal, American Geographical Society

2000

Publication of George Perkins Marsh: Prophet of Conservation (awarded J.B. Jackson Prize)

2001

Elected Senior Fellow of the British Academy

2004

Awarded Royal Scottish Geographical Society Medal

2008

Publication of Passage du temps sur le paysage; awarded honorary doctorate by

2010

Awarded Forbes Lecture Prize

2015

Publication of The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited

2016

Awarded British Academy Medal, for The Past is a Foreign Country – Revisited

2018

Died, London, 15 September

2019

Publication of Quest for the Unity of Knowledge

the Memorial University of Newfoundland

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3

Eric Herbert Brown (1922–2018) Hugh Clout

© Department of Geography, University College London.

Eric Brown was a British geographer whose work spanned the transition from denudation chronology to process-orientated research. His fascination for geomorphology was stimulated by childhood explorations in the Leicestershire countryside and his experience as a pilot during the Second World War. Greatly influenced by S. W. Wooldridge, he graduated from King’s College

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London. In 1950 he moved to University College London (UCL), where he spent the rest of his career, becoming professor of physical geography in 1966. His doctoral thesis, published as The Relief and Drainage of Wales, is recognized as a classic. As well as teaching and research, Brown performed important administrative roles at UCL, the Royal Geographical Society (RGS) and national and international committees that furthered the cause of geography. Glacial and periglacial geomorphology became his second area of expertise. Most of his fieldwork was undertaken in Wales and south-east England, but he had experience of the Americas, Australasia and other parts of the world. He allowed his research students to develop new techniques and areas of investigation and many became senior academics, and some leaders in physical geography.

Education, life and work Eric Herbert Brown was born on 8 December 1922 in Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire, the middle child of three, born to grocers Samuel and Ada. Eric was a bright child and obtained a scholarship to King Edward VII Grammar School in Melton Mowbray. Walks in the countryside of northeast Leicestershire and longer bicycle rides along ‘the roads and tracks up and down the scarp of the Middle Lias Marlstone overlooking the Vale of Belvoir and the ironstone workings on the plateau behind’ awakened his interest in geography and geology (Brown 1979, 450). He was fascinated by the meandering of streams across local meadows where he played ‘brook jumping’ – ‘taking off from the top of the undercut, outside bank of a meander and landing on the slip-off slope’ (450). The processes behind these microforms were later explained by his geography master. Annual holidays took Eric and his brother and sister to the beach at Skegness, and field trips from school introduced him to the Derbyshire Peak District and the Lake District of Cumberland. On a cruise to Norway for schoolchildren he saw his first fjords and a glacier. Eric excelled in his school work and his parents came to appreciate that, rather than helping run the shop, he should study at university. His teachers recommended King’s College London, where Sidney Wooldridge (1900–63, Geographers 8) – who had trained as a geologist – was

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the leading geographer. Eric won a place but spent his first academic year at Bristol to where the college had been evacuated because of the Second World War. Wooldridge was his tutor and his clear expositions in classroom and field profoundly influenced Brown. To complement introductory work in physical geography, map work and surveying, he took a subsidiary course in mathematics. Much later in life, he characterized his approach to geography as ‘a curiosity about places. I am interested in process and time, but the shape of things past, present and still to come is what really interests me … The quest to understand how things have come to be where they are historically … gives me greatest satisfaction’ (450). In 1941 Brown was called up to the Royal Air Force and his training brought ‘a veritable explosion of geographical experience on land and sea, but particularly in the air’ (450). At the age of twenty, he ‘saw and wondered at … the Laws of the Lothians, the Sidlaws and Ochils, the Forth and the Tay, the Lough Neagh lowlands, the Mournes, Belfast and Strangford Loughs, Wales from St. David’s Head to the Dee estuary, and Cardiff to Holyhead, the Quantocks and Somerset Levels, and Plymouth Sound’ (450). Further training in Canada took him over ‘the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, Niagara, the Prairies and the Rockies’ (450). At Mount Hope in Ontario he met a geographer who became a friend and close colleague: Bill (William Richard) Mead (1915–2014, Geographers 36) who was then administrative assistant to the camp commander at Mount Hope (Clout 2015). With his training as a flying officer complete, Brown joined 517 Squadron Coastal Command, being involved in anti-U Boat operations in the South-West Approaches, ranging from Northern Ireland to Gibraltar and North Africa, mainly over the Bay of Biscay and including the collection of meteorological data on long patrols over the Atlantic. This latter information was vital in the forecasting of weather over the United Kingdom and Europe, as a contribution to military activities on land and in the air … Two critical geographical/ environmental factors were the forecasting of wave heights on the Normandy beaches, as a contribution to which I found myself taking photographs of the waves of the Atlantic in the South-West Approaches. Secondly, it was weather information collected by 517 Squadron which enabled Group Captain [James] Stagg to provide the forecast on which Eisenhower made the

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decision, first to postpone D-Day by 24 hours, and then to go in during a 12-hour slot of fine weather, forecast from data that we had collected. (letter from Eric Brown to Sir George Bishop, President of the RGS, 6 June 1985. RGS Archive; Balchin 1987, 176)

In later years, former UCL colleagues Gerard and Marion Ward reported: One thing we should mention is that in May and early June of 1944 Eric, then in the RAF Coastal Command, was flying large aircraft doing flights at very low altitude over the ocean off north-western France and measuring the distance between the tops of successive waves. But they didn’t know why at the time! On one occasion his aircraft actually touched the top of a wave! It was only later, when someone from the Met[eorological] Office gave a talk at UCL, that he discovered why! The data they gathered enabled experts to calculate the effect of waves on the slope of beaches below the level of the tides, and hence to determine when best to stage the invasion of Normandy. Their data resulted in D-Day being postponed for at least a day! (pers. comm. Gerard and Marion Ward, 17 Jan 2018)

Toward the end of his life, Brown recalled his flying days with relish, remembering trips to Casablanca when bottles of whisky were transported. He declared that he had complete confidence in his aircraft and was never scared. Of course, he had enormous good luck, since on one sortie his was the only plane to return to base (pers. comm. Jane Bartholomew, 15 Feb 2018). He remarked: It was particularly these war experiences which developed within me an aesthetic appreciation of landscapes and especially land form. The juxtaposition of land and sea seen in all its weather-worn moods, the exquisite beauty of a prairies moon riding above the infinite horizons of a sea of land and the unmatchable colours of sunrise through broken cloud at 20,000 feet above a tranquil Bay of Biscay were the rewards for countless hours of routine operations. (Brown 1979, 450–1)

Based near St David’s, Pembrokeshire, Brown met and courted Eileen Reynolds, daughter of a local farmer who reared pedigree black cattle. The couple married in 1945, and had two daughters, Jane and Megan. Brown’s earliest publications related to animal husbandry (Brown and Phillips 1950; Brown, Phillips and Davies 1949).

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After the end of the war Brown resumed his studies at King’s College whose small geography department joined that of the LSE in the ‘Joint School of Geography’ (Balchin 1997). Introduced in 1946, this arrangement meant that lectures were open to undergraduate geographers throughout the federal University of London. Brown’s advanced courses and special options were mainly taught on an inter-collegiate basis and he attended Sidney Wooldridge’s lectures at UCL on geomorphology, which were complemented by weekend field classes in the Weald or parts of the London Basin. In this way, despite occupying the chair of geography at Birkbeck College from 1944 to 1947, Wooldridge continued to be a major influence on Brown’s geographical education. In fact, most of the inter-collegiate classes were delivered at the LSE, where his lecturers included Lawrence Dudley Stamp (1898–1966; economic geography), Stanley Beaver (1907–84; British Isles, North America), Robert Ogilvie Buchanan (1894–1980; economic geography), Ronald Harrison Church (1915–98; France, Africa) and Oskar Spate (1911–2000; Asia) (on Stamp, Beaver and Spate see Geographers 12, 36, 34) (Sinclair and Wise 1999). William Balchin (1916–2007) and H. John Wood (1904–52) at King’s College and John Lebon (1909–69) at Queen Mary College were also influential instructors (Anon. 1970; Fisher 1970; Wooldridge 1953). Brown was fascinated by the ‘principles of industrial location’. In addition, he audited classes on meteorology and climatology by geologist John Francis (‘Jack’) Kirkaldy (1908–90) of King’s College, a weather forecaster in the Air Ministry at the start of the war, and from 1943 until 1945 an officer in the meteorological branch of the RAF, and eventually squadron leader in charge of a meteorological control centre (Middlemiss 1990, 353). He was an early member of the Institute of British Geographers and performed with ‘The Geoids’, an amateur dramatic society that regularly presented the works of Gilbert and Sullivan (Wise 1997, 53). Wooldridge was its founder president in 1930 and several geographers at the LSE and King’s College, including Brown, were members. In the summer of 1947 Brown graduated with a first-class degree in geography, one of six to achieve this distinction in the University of London. The others were Bruce Sparks (1923–88) and Maurice Parry (1921–2013) (both from UCL); Alice Coleman (b. 1923) (from Birkbeck); and Basil Johnson (1919–2011) and Clarence Kidson (1919–2009) (both from King’s). All five were soon appointed to assistant lectureships at Queen Mary College,

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Reading, King’s, Birmingham, and Exeter respectively (pers. comm. Eric Brown, June 2005; Maddrell 2009, 258–65). Brown was appointed assistant lecturer at University College Wales, Aberystwyth, modestly attributing his success to the contacts that his father-in-law had with the agricultural economists at Aberystwyth and the strength of support from Wooldridge, who was then external examiner at the College. Emrys George Bowen (1900– 83), long-serving member of the department and recently promoted professor of geography, later confided to Brown: ‘I couldn’t go against Wooldridge’ (Geographers 10). In September 1947 the Aberystwyth department, at 11 Marine Terrace, comprised only Bowen (resident since 1929), Walter Fogg (1899–1965, in post since 1931), and Alwyn D. Rees (1911–74) and Charles Fisher (1916–98), who were both appointed in 1946. Fisher had been ‘a prisoner of the Japanese, and served on the infamous Burma-Siam railway’ (Farmer 1942, 252). Edward Watson (1916–82) arrived in Aberystwyth at the same time as Brown (Anon. 1968, vii). Among the graduate students was Emrys Jones (1920–2006) who was investigating the social geography of rural settlements and small towns in Wales (Johnston 2008). Charged with teaching physical geography and aware that he needed to develop his research, Brown ‘began to feel isolated. In geography there was absolutely no one I could talk to. I went to Alan Wood [professor of geology]. We spent a day together. Then we went over the ground together’ (pers. comm. Eric Brown, June 2005). In due course, Brown graduated MSc with a dissertation on ‘Stages in the geomorphological evolution of North Cardiganshire: with special reference to the Ystwyth valley’ (1949). With only an assistant lecturer’s stipend supplemented by Eileen’s work as a dressmaker, money was tight; their rented rooms were furnished sparsely and their diet was meagre at a time of food rationing (pers. comm. Jane Bartholomew, 15 Feb 2018). At the annual conference of the Institute of British Geographers in January 1949, Brown found himself sitting opposite Henry Clifford Darby (1909–92, Geographers 26) in the hall of Jesus College, Oxford. Newly appointed professor of geography at UCL, but still occupying the John Rankin Chair at Liverpool (1945–9), Darby was keen to enlist new talent to his department (Clout 2003). As a Welshman, he was interested in Brown’s post with Emrys Bowen, whose work he respected, and in his family connections with rural Pembrokeshire (Bowen 1936). Darby consulted Wooldridge and, after a further meeting with

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Brown, offered him a lecturership at UCL. Wooldridge advised Brown: ‘If you stay at Aberystwyth, you will be a big fish in a very little pond; if you come to London, you will be a very small fish in a big pond … But little fish can grow’ (Eric Brown citing Wooldridge, pers. comm.). Brown decided to move to London, after completing his lectures at Aberystwyth in 1949 for which no replacement could be found at short notice. Brown arrived at UCL on 1 January 1950 to find a geography department in transition. He remembered: ‘C.B. Fawcett had gone, Darby was here, Buchanan had gone to the LSE, R.E. Dickinson [1905–81] was in America. Arthur Smailes [1911–84], Emrys Jones, Constance Olsen, Reg Cornish [1914–51] were here. Bill Mead had been appointed but was in Finland for the academic year’ (Darby and Wooldridge 1952; East 1983) (Geographers 8). Paul Wheatley (1921–99, Geographers 24), like Mead, had come with Darby from Liverpool. Housed in Foster Court, the department was cramped but ‘from this base … Henry Clifford followed a policy of territorial expansion’, colonizing rooms in the building and seizing every opportunity to appoint more staff. As colleagues resigned (Olsen, Jones), died (Cornish) or were promoted elsewhere (Smailes), the profile of the department changed dramatically. Darby ‘prided himself that within three or four years, there wasn’t a member of staff that he hadn’t appointed’. Arthur Smailes, with whom Darby did not see eye to eye, secured a Readership (and headship of department) at Queen Mary College in 1953 (Rawstron 1985): as Brown remarked: ‘One of Clifford’s techniques was to kick people upstairs’. He believed that Darby had chosen the chair at UCL in preference to a simultaneous vacancy at the LSE was because he could be his own boss. UCL [was] a very-department orientated institution. In those days, heads of department ruled the roost. [Sir David Randall] Pye was Provost. I suspect Darby was offered what he wanted. At LSE he could not have done that since it was part of the Joint School with King’s, where Wooldridge was the power … It wasn’t the sort of environment where Darby could operate in the way he wished … But Darby did respect Wooldridge, very much so. He respected his mind and his intelligence. But not his methods, nor as a teacher, because he was a better teacher than HCD. In his research methodology he had a tendency toward the broad-brush approach, where HCD was meticulous, painfully so at time. Wooldridge was much more intuitive … HCD listened to him, but could never have worked with him. (pers. comm. Eric Brown, June 2005)

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Tony French (1929–2012) felt that ‘they were both prima donnas, but they respected each other’ (pers. comm. R. A. French, June 2005; Wooldridge 1936). Like all junior lecturers, Brown had a range of teaching duties in his early years at UCL including developing geomorphology and collaborating with Bill Mead on a regional course on North America that eventually gave rise to a textbook (Brown and Mead 1962). The first task required particular tact since successive professors of geology at UCL were also professors of ‘physical geography’ and until 1962 the introductory course for geography undergraduates on ‘The Land’ was delivered by the professor of geology. Brown had to steer a course that respected the status quo, but also permitted advanced physical geography to be taught by geographers. This involved providing lectures at UCL to complement inter-collegiate courses on geomorphology that were given for many years by Wooldridge. Brown ‘shadowed’ many of these sessions and the weekend field trips that followed them. Jim Johnson (1930–2009) recalled that Wooldridge alternated between grumbling about having to come to UCL and delighting in meeting members of Darby’s department (pers. comm. James H. Johnson, 6 Oct 2005). Advanced meteorology and climatology, and plant geography were also taught on an inter-collegiate basis. Some students regretted that Brown was not a more fluent speaker while others appreciated the scientific content of his presentations (Berry 2002, 24); but many agreed that his real strength was leading small groups of enthusiasts in the field. In his first few years at UCL, Brown needed to settle in. Hugh Prince (1927– 2013) remarked: ‘I rather suspect that Darby thought Eric needed protecting for a while. He had to do his PhD and to establish family life’ (pers. comm. H. C. Prince, June 2005) (Geographers 34). However, in 1953 he led a field course to Montpellier, in the company of Eileen, Bill Mead and Terry Coppock (1921–2000, Geographers 26) (pers. comm. John Rice, 8 March 2018). A few months later, with Darby and Mead, Brown traversed the United States from east to west, returning to Washington, DC, to present a paper about the 600-foot platform in Wales at the 17th International Geographical Congress (Brown 1957). The transcontinental adventure was underpinned by dollars kindly disbursed by Jean Gottmann (1915–94, Geographers 25). In Washington Brown and Mead used a contact in the British Council to arrange a party for selected members of the British contingent and their guests in the apartment of socialite Nancy Mitford (1904–73), where alcohol was freely available (pers.

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comm. Eric Brown, 2016). During the academic year 1953–4, Brown was a visiting associate professor at the University of Indiana in Bloomington that provided an academic base for fieldwork in the Appalachians. Rocco Louis Gentilcore (1924–93) came in his place as a visiting lecturer at UCL. On his return to London Brown had to shoulder many new responsibilities following Smailes’s departure. Hugh Prince thought Smailes, who had been a conscientious objector, ‘was a total disaster temperamentally. The students were dominantly ex-servicemen. Arthur responded to them in a mean and insensitive manner … Darby was, of course, using him, and that wasn’t a healthy situation’ (pers. comm. H. C. Prince, June 2005). Against this difficult background and with his doctorate still unfinished, Brown became departmental tutor with responsibility for an enormous range of administrative tasks, from admissions to internal examinations, timetabling classes and tutorials, dealing with college authorities, representing the department at university-wide meetings and coping with student welfare and discipline. Prince believed: ‘Eric was put under terrible strain after Arthur left. He was thrust into almost everything. Eric’s a very dependable person. He provided a new area of strength for the department, but it cost him a lot. He bore a very heavy load … Everybody wanted somebody like Eric, who had real qualities. He gave himself to it, and sacrificed himself ’ (pers. comm. H. C. Prince, June 2005). Amazingly, Brown remained departmental tutor for the next dozen years, when he was replaced by Jim Johnson (1930–2009) (Salt and Clout 2010). As Brown once remarked: Henry Clifford didn’t run the department. I did that. I ran the department on a day to day basis as tutor. I made the decisions. In terms of nitty-gritty matters and syllabus, I did it. I kept him informed. We did much business on the train to Berkhamsted [where Darby lived, and to where Brown moved from Arnos Grove in north London in 1957]. After half a pint of beer, we would catch the 6.06 train from Euston … But Henry Clifford would never discuss his decisions with me when it came to personal matters. No, we [Brown and Mead] would give advice; he would take the decisions. (pers. comm. Eric Brown, June 2005)

Despite the toll on his health, Brown ran the increasingly large and complex department, with the blessing of Mead who deputized when Darby, who ‘had become part of the inner caucus of powerful heads of department’, took

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sabbatical leave (pers. comm. H. C. Prince, June 2005). He ‘would say we’ll take more students. And then asked for more staff ’. In 1961 Brown was promoted to Reader following the publication of a revised version of his doctorate as The Relief and Drainage of Wales (1960), a title that confused some reviewers, booksellers and librarians who placed it among works in marine zoology (Berman 1961, 358–9; pers. comm. R. U. Cooke, 15 Feb 2018). Awarded the Back Grant of the Royal Geographical Society (1961) for contributions to geomorphology, Brown ‘was invited to go to chairs elsewhere, but I didn’t press my case. I just let time take its course’. After seventeen years at UCL, Darby accepted the chair of geography at Cambridge. Eric recalled: And then HCD is leaving; he handed the mantle to Bill Mead, who was thrown into it … I was worried that Bill was going to be head of department. As departmental tutor, I said: ‘Fine, but I shall have to end up running the place’. Bill was not administration minded but, in retrospect, Bill grew into the job and made a resounding success. But this was totally unforeseeable at the time. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. It worked. My unhappiness did not last very long … One of the great problems after HCD left was how to maintain UCL’s expanding reputation. That is one of the miracles. UCL geography continued in prestige and power, perhaps more so after Henry Clifford left.

In 1966 Mead moved from a personal to the established chair and Wheatley returned to the department. Brown had mixed feelings about the new appointment, declaring Wheatley to be: one of those individuals who adds luminosity to an institution, but is totally hopeless when it comes to running an institution … and an irritant. Every department can cope with one such individual. The trouble is when it comes to several at any one time [not explained]. As an assistant lecturer, Paul was difficult; as a professor he was still difficult. But he was good for the department.

Very soon after Wheatley’s arrival, Mead ensured that Eric was promoted to a personal chair in physical geography (pers. comm. W. R. Mead, June 2005). His daughter recalled that his joy when he read the news in The Times (9 July 1966) was so unbounded that ‘he would almost have put marmalade into his

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tea, instead of sugar’ (pers. comm. Jane Bartholomew, 15 Feb 2018). In the following year, he made the first of three short visits to Nigeria as visiting examiner at the University of Ibadan. For a further two decades, Brown continued to teach undergraduates, mentored a rapidly growing number of postgraduates, and developed a specialist course in glacial geomorphology. In 1965 he went to the 7th International Association for Quaternary Research Congress at Boulder, Colorado. Two years later, in the summer of 1967, he attended the expedition of the Quaternary Field Study Group to Breidamerjӧkull in Iceland that was organized by Robert John Price (1936–2012) of the University of Glasgow (pers. comm. J. Rice, 8 March 2018; Diamond 2013). Brown made several visits to Latin America in the 1960s. During the first, from 1965 to 1966, he offered advice, based on geomorphological observations, to the government of Argentina in its boundary dispute with Chile in Patagonia. He collaborated with Latin Americanist David Robinson (b. 1939), a colleague and former student at UCL, and Argentinian geographer Federico Daus (1901–88), with whom he undertook physical geographical analysis, using air photos, and observations from helicopter and on horseback and foot of critical riverine sites in very difficult terrain with deep gullies and much dense forest cover. Advising the Chilean government was geomorphologist Robert P. Beckinsale (1908–98) of the University of Oxford. The international Court of Arbitration split the difference between the two countries’ claims (pers. comm. David Robinson, 11 March 2018; United Nations 2006). On Brown’s second Latin American expedition in 1968 he joined a team of scientists making environmental enquiries along the line of a new road being cut in Brazil from Xavantina in Mato Grosso state to Cachimbo (Brown et al. 1970). Writing to Mead from ‘Base Camp’, Brown remarked: Fieldwork in the tropics is an exhausting business. Gallery forest along rivers is dreadful stuff to get through. In such vegetation I hurt my eye – the same eye I hurt in Patagonia. I flicked it with some leaf or twig in the forest a couple of days ago. For twelve hours, I was in agony but it cleared up overnight and my sight was never impaired. (letter of 2 Oct 1968)

In 1971, while visiting professor at Monash University, Melbourne, Brown investigated bush fires and other natural hazards in the surrounding

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countryside (Brown 1972; Brown and Edgell 1975). In April that year he reported to Mead that he had just travelled From Melbourne to Adelaide, following the coastal road and trying to look not only at matters geomorphological but also historical. It really is a fascinating country for a geographer. The historical geography is so relatively young that it is part of the present scene. I have never been more convinced than I am at the moment that our landscape approach to geography is the most satisfying intellectually and that its full appreciation requires direct observation in the field. You would be delighted with the wealth of information there is concerning the settlement process here in Australia. (letter of 19 April 1971).

His Antipodean adventure involved a trip to New Zealand and Fiji, a further journey into Queensland and a ‘flying visit to New Guinea, where I shall be staying with Gerry and Marion [Gerard (b. 1933) and Marion (b. 1930) Ward] and where I hope that Mike Brown [a former doctoral student] will take me up into the highlands’ (letter to W. R. Mead, 27 July 1971). A couple of months earlier, Mead had shared the news that Wheatley was about to leave UCL. Brown replied: It was no surprise to me … I am surprised he stayed so long. We are not for him (but then I suspect nowhere is for him in any permanent sense. He is never going to be a department or college man, too restless, too inefficient at organization) … Of course, we must (or you must) put up the case for the retention of the chair … If the chair is retained, then a human geographer, preferably a quantifier on the economic, urban, spatial analysis side rather than cultural. (letter to W. R. Mead, 12 May 1971)

Brown then mentioned three possible replacements that he would find ‘acceptable’, two that he would not and one ‘probably not, but I could be argued out of that’. Rather surprisingly, he concluded: ’If politically possible the translation of myself into the established [rather than personal] chair would be nice’ (letter to W. R. Mead, 12 May 1971). In fact, the vacant chair was filled by cultural geographer David Lowenthal (1923–2018, Geographers 39). After his return from the Antipodes, Brown performed a succession of senior administrative roles in the college. As first Dean of Students (1972–5), a post which brought membership of College Council, he dealt with sensitive

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issues with firmness and tact. He chaired the Shenley Grounds Committee (1971–82) and the Student Accommodation Committee (1982–8). After retirement in 1988 he was Director of Alumni Relations (1989–91). He served the University of London as a member of the Senate and the Academic Council (1981–8). Colleague Andrew Warren reported: ‘He was a great committee man and knew the Statutes from back to front’ (pers. comm. A. Warren, May 2005). On the national scene, Brown was a founder member of the British Geomorphological Research Group (BGRG) in 1959, becoming chairman for 1971–2. With R. S. Waters, he edited a volume in honour of David Linton, who greatly influenced his work, and co-authored a review essay about of geomorphology in the UK since 1918 (Brown and Waters 1974; Gregory 1999; pers. comm. Roger Crofts, 21 May 2018). In October 1988 he received the BGRG’s David Linton Award. Brown was President of the Institute of British Geographers in 1978, Honorary Secretary of the RGS (1977–87) in succession to Mead, and Vice-President (1988–9). His edited Geography, Yesterday and Tomorrow (1980), the RGS’s sesquicentennial volume, which received a mixed review from Michael Chisholm but a more enthusiastic appraisal from Preston E. James (Brown 1980a; Chisholm 1982; James 1982). Five years later a Spanish language edition appeared from a Mexican publishing house. With skill and determination, Brown served on numerous RGS committees (research, editorial, finance, library, maps, expeditions, medals and awards, and general purposes), as well as being a member of Council. Lord Hunt, President of the RGS from 1977 to 1980, declared: ‘Eric was a marvellous colleague on Council and in committees; his enthusiasm, humour and positive approach infected us all’ (John Hunt, 14 June 1985, Geography Department Archive, UCL). The British National Committee for Geography operated under Brown’s chairmanship (1985–98), as did the Remote Sensing Committee of the Natural Environment Research Council (1983–8). Brown secured for UCL the University of London’s remote sensing unit, being, in the judgement of John Hemming, director of the RGS (1975–96), ‘in the forefront of work to introduce new technology in geography, and particularly the handling of satellite information and remote sensing’ (John Hemming, 26 June 1985, Geography Department Archive, UCL). Brown continued to travel widely. In 1974 he headed the UK delegation at the 5th Anglo-Polish seminar at Torun which was devoted to applied

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physical geography (Steel 1984, 98). Three years later he led a group of British geomorphologists to China as guests of the Academia Sinica (Brown 1978a; Brown et al. 1978). With Marjorie Sweeting (1920–94) (Geographers 38), Edward Derbyshire (b. 1932), Kenneth Gregory (1938–2020) and David Stoddart (1937–2014), he visited several research institutes and examined loess deposits and karst features in the field as well as investigating matters relating to flood control along the Yangtze river, but their projected volume on the physical geography of China failed to materialize (letter from Andrew Schuller of Oxford University Press, 21 November 1983, Geography Department Archive, UCL). In 1980 Brown led the UK delegation to the 24th International Geographical Congress in Japan. Having served from 1960 to 1964 on the Commission on Changing Sea Levels of the International Geographical Union, he was a member of the Commission on Human Impact upon the Environment from 1976 to 1984. Michael Wise (1918–2015), President of the IGU (1976–80), stated: ‘From my own experience, I know that wherever he represented [British geography] abroad, the prestige of British science has been enhanced. His mastery of the subject has shone through, as has his integrity and honesty’ (Michael Wise, 26 June 1985, Geography Department Archive, UCL) (for Wise see Geographers 36). In 1987 Brown visited Tibet and returned enthused by the idea of modelling its physiography, but, although an impressive computer was installed in his office at UCL, data were processed and draft maps prepared, the project was unfinished. During three decades of retirement (1988–2018), Brown retained academic and social links with UCL, especially its remote sensing unit, and the RGS– IBG and its Geographical Club. His long and dedicated service to British geography was acknowledged in 2002 by an honorary doctorate from the University of York, where Sir Ron Cooke (b. 1941), his former student and colleague, was Vice-Chancellor. Living alone in Berkhamsted after the death of his wife in 1984, Brown was an active member of the local community. He was a churchwarden at St Peter’s Church, who wondered ‘whether there is a divine design at the heart of the beauty of slope and shore’ (Brown 1979, 450). He was a valued bookkeeper of the town’s Oxfam charity fundraising shops, and a strong supporter of the local branch of the Geographical Association which encourages geography teaching in schools. His attempts to cook local dishes from the countries he visited met with varying success (pers. comm.

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Jane Bartholomew, 15 Feb 2018). With his sons-in-law and his grandsons he appreciated rugby football and enjoyed visits to Twickenham, Cardiff and especially the Parc des Princes in Paris. He also introduced them to many French vineyards and the delights of fine wines. ‘Above all else, his greatest love was his family. He was so very proud of all of them’ (pers. comm. Anne Oxenham, 27 Feb 2018). With Bill Mead, he visited Gerard and Marion Ward at their holiday home near Montpellier each summer, with train journeys replacing air travel as the two became physically frail. Brown greatly appreciated pub lunches in the Chiltern hills with retired colleagues from UCL, regaling them with stories of his family, the war, Aberystwyth and, of course, Wooldridge. Having moved to a retirement home in Berkhamsted for his final year he died on 5 January 2018, aged ninety-five (Brunsden 2018; Clout 2018).

The scholarly legacy of Eric Brown As a young man Brown was a faithful student of Sidney Wooldridge, who championed denudation chronology as the way to study landforms. Drawing on the ideas of William Morris Davis (1850–1934) and greatly influenced by the later work of Douglas W. Johnson (1878–1944), the methodology dominated King’s College, ‘almost to the exclusion of other ideas’ (pers. comm. D. Brunsden, 13 Feb 2018; Johnson 1931) (for Johnson see Geographers 5). Written in this tradition, Wooldridge and David Leslie Linton (1906–71)’s Structure, Surface and Drainage in South East England (1939, reprinted 1955) was essential reading at the University of London (Geographers 7). Brown was duly taught to identify distinctive features in the landscape and hypothesize how various physical processes had operated in the past to create the present scene. While at Aberystwyth he followed this approach to analyse the physical landscape of north Cardiganshire for his University of Wales MSc dissertation (Brown 1950a, 1957a). With Wooldridge’s encouragement and ‘freely given advice’, Brown extended this approach to the whole of Wales for his University of London doctoral thesis ‘Contributions to the geomorphology of Wales’ (1955) (Brown 1952b, 306). In a paper presented to the RGS in October 1956, he reported:

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The first significant contribution to the study of the land forms of Wales was made one hundred and ten years ago when the Geological Survey published Andrew Crombie Ramsay’s memoir on ‘The Denudation of South Wales and adjacent Counties’. This was followed in 1866 by his ‘Geology of North Wales’. In the earlier of these works, Ramsay describes a ‘gently inclined plane’, which he later refers to as the ‘high tableland’. Above this upland surface rise the highest mountain crests … whilst into it have been carved the present river valleys of Wales. (Brown 1957b, 208)

He continued to explain that successive geologists and geomorphologists attributed the inclined plane to various formative processes, including wave erosion (Ramsay), sub-aerial processes (Wooldridge) and even semi-arid climatic conditions. He hoped that ‘a study of the altitude and form of the surfaces mapped in the field will resolve the problem posed by these conflicting theories’ (208). Brown explored the length and breadth of Wales to record ‘the remnants of erosion surfaces’ on Ordnance Survey one-inch-to-the-mile maps, with more detailed recordings on the 1:25,000 and 1:10,560 maps. He started his work around Ludlow far away from the sea and in an area previously unknown to the author, so that a degree of objectivity concerning the nature and origin of the erosion surfaces could be achieved. Profile views of hill tops and spurs are the basic elements in field work of this type … Success largely depends upon the ability to think three dimensionally not only about present land forms but also of conditions as they were at the different periods indicated by the erosion surfaces mapped (209).

Drawing on numerous maps of relief regions, cross sections of geology and terrain, and landscape photographs, Brown identified high peaks as the possible remnants of a Sub-Mesozoic surface, exhumed in early and midTertiary times; and low, middle and high peneplains, each of which is ‘thought to be of Miocene and Pliocene age … The low peneplain is cut on its margins by a 600-foot platform which is reckoned to be the equivalent in Wales of the late Pliocene–early Pleistocene wave-cut platform of south-east England’ (219). Primary drainage was attributed to radial fanning from sources in the mountains of north-west Wales. Brown’s dissertation generated lively discussion. Austin Miller (1900–68) praised ‘the perseverance, industry, and

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… concentrated ferocity’ with which he scanned the Welsh landscape during the previous six years (221). He spoke warmly about Brown’s ‘eye for country’, but warned against ‘the temptation to see what one wants to see, especially after a hypothesis has been formed and is in the process of being tested’ (222). Wooldridge and Linton applauded the extent and rigour of his fieldwork, as did R. John Rice (b. 1931) who ‘had the privilege of spending several days in the field with him, and can testify to the skill, the enthusiasm and the patience with which he faced the enormous task of studying the whole of Wales’ (226). Ronald Waters (1922–98) believed that Brown’s ‘interpretation of the upland plains of Wales [marked] a signal advance towards a rational explanation of the undulating plateau surfaces of highland Britain’ (224). Marjorie Sweeting and Clifford Embleton (1931–94), however, regretted his neglect of glacial deposits and ‘the effects of glaciation on the upland surfaces’ (227) – something his own research and that of his students later rectified. After this sustained academic scrutiny, Brown’s dissertation was published as The Relief and Drainage of Wales: a study in geomorphological development (1960). In its preface Brown thanked Emrys Bowen, H. C. Darby and ‘undergraduate, graduate and teaching members of the intercollegiate course in geomorphology at the University of London who have participated in many fruitful discussions’ (Brown 1960a, viii). UCL colleagues, especially W. J. Brown and K. J. Gregory, were thanked for their ‘invaluable aid in the laborious task of cartographical analysis’. Yet, ‘finally, and above all’, Brown thanked Wooldridge ‘for inspiration, advice, criticism, and encouragement’ (viii). The book presented ideas on the relief and structure of Wales before describing its upland plains, coastal plateaux and drainage evolution, and its denudation chronology. Brown acknowledged that ‘the influence of ice, the last great process to fashion the landscapes of Wales, is not considered’, since ‘further detailed analyses of the landforms which have resulted from glacial erosion and deposition’ were still required (viii). The monograph contained two dozen landscape photographs, four dozen maps, diagrams and sketches, and one coloured map. Reviewing the book, David Linton declared: There are some works … [that] bring to an end a chapter in the history of research and carry discussion on to a new plane by a decisive refutation of old arguments, by the introduction of a new imaginative concept, or by the

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presentation of a substantial body of observed fact. Dr. Brown’s monograph has this distinction because in it, we are provided, as a result of many seasons’ indefatigable field-work covering the whole Principality, with a consistent and objective map of the extent and location of all the surviving remnants of the principal erosion surfaces of Wales … The author’s important findings will remain a stimulus and a challenge to fresh observation for some time to come. (Linton 1961, 500–2)

In a similar vein, geologist Thomas Neville George (1904–80) found the book to be of the highest value. It is based on a personal exploration of the whole country that allows the author to place the work of others in his own view. It is full of objective description, and … presents an excellent perspective of landscape not biased by over-emphasis on selected features or preferred inference. [Brown’s] theory is stimulating and provocative. It is convincing in many of its elements, particularly in its interpretation of the lower platforms and of the pattern of drainage … The book is a timely and outstanding contribution to British geomorphology; it is both satisfying in itself and a stimulus to more extended study; and its methods and its conclusions are directly relevant to most other areas of oldland Britain. (George 1961, 111)

Clarence Kidson, then a scientist at the Nature Conservancy, declared that ‘few people can have such an intimate and comprehensive knowledge of the physique of Wales [as Brown] and fewer still can be so well fitted to present and analysis of its landforms’ (Kidson 1961, 172). He acknowledged that Brown’s interpretation was ‘a working hypothesis which may well be modified in the light of further studies … [but] there can be little doubt that this volume will take its place among the classics of landscape interpretation, or that it will exert a continuing influence on future work, not only in Wales but also in a much wider field’ (173). By contrast, veteran geologist Owen Thomas Jones (1878–1967) virulently opposed what he called Brown’s ‘peculiar views on the relief of Wales’ and rehearsed evidence that he believed ‘has escaped the author’ (Jones 1961, 436–7). The Relief and Drainage of Wales has become a classic. Wooldridge regarded its author ‘without any question as the outstandingly ablest younger man in this field in this country’ (letter of 21 Mar 1962, UCL Records Office). However, by the time the monograph was published, denudation chronology was falling

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out of favour. Geomorphology was ‘expanding and diversifying, particularly with the advent of quantitative approaches from the United States, which prompted much greater emphasis on processes and encouraged attention … to Quaternary landscape evolution’ (pers. comm. K. J. Gregory, 23 Jan 2018). Brown was aware of these innovations but was perhaps constrained by his friendship with and deep respect for Wooldridge. Wooldridge’s stroke in 1954 and death in 1963 left Brown ‘ready to move on to new ideas’ (pers. comm. D. Brunsden, 13 Feb 2018). These ideas emerged in glacial and periglacial geomorphology that Brown investigated with British and foreign colleagues and with his own doctoral students. For example in 1963, he visited Poland to study periglacial features with Jan Dylik (1905–73) of the University of Łódź, chair of the periglacial commission of the International Geographical Union from 1952 to 1972, and Alfred Jahn (1915–99) of the University of Wrocław (Brown 1964a, 1965). A little later, he worked with malacologist Michael P. Kerney of the British Museum and UCL geographer Tony Chandler (1928–2008) on the late-glacial and post-glacial history of the cluster of dry valleys, known as the Devil’s Kneading Trough, on the chalk escarpment at Brook in Kent (Brown 1966; Clout and Atkinson 2009; Kerney, Chandler and Brown 1964). Using detailed morphological and stratigraphical mapping, isotope dating, and analysis of pollen, mollusca and artefacts researchers constructed a comprehensive environmental history of the area (Cooke 1969, 21–2) – a project that ‘paved the way for later multi-disciplinary investigations that could interpret Quaternary landscape changes and provide a link to present processes’ (pers. comm. K. J. Gregory, 23 Jan 2018). Brown retained his interest in chalkland dry valleys, turning his attention to those in the Chiltern hills near Berkhamsted. Comparing faults and joints in determining valley orientation, he considered erosion under periglacial conditions more important than that resulting from post-glacial spring sapping (Brown 1964, 1969). During his visit to Poland Brown also met Mieczysław Klimaszewski (1908–95) of the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, who had pioneered the construction of a national geomorphological map during the early 1950s (Klimaszewski 1990). By 1955 some 50,000 square kilometres had been mapped to contribute to ‘the development of science [and also to use] the results of investigations on the geographical environment and its elements

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(including relief) … for practical purposes, with the aim of a better mastery and utilization of the natural environment for the benefit of society’ (Klimaszewski 1956, 39). On his return from Poland Brown readily acceded to David Linton’s proposal that a similar exercise be implemented in the UK (pers. comm. Keith Richards, 26 Jan 2018). Preliminary work was done, but despite Brown’s note, probably of 1965, that a ‘Geomorphological Map of Southern England, for inclusion in 10 Mile to the Inch Map series, [was] completed and ready for press’ (E. H. Brown curriculum vitae, Geography Archive, UCL), the project remained incomplete. Although ‘parts of a genetic geomorphology map of Britain were produced in manuscript form … [Eric] always thought of this as unfinished business, and was only partially comforted when a simple version was published in [a series of articles in] the Geographical Magazine’ (pers. comm. D. Brunsden, 13 Feb 2018; Brown 1975–6; Brown and Crofts 1973– 4; Brunsden 1975–6; Crofts 1975–6; Cullingford 1975–6; Gregory 1975–6; Gregory and Brown 1975–6; Rice 1975–6; Waters 1975–6). However, the work led to the establishment of the BGRG, with Brown on its first committee and rarely missing a meeting for decades. With Keith Clayton (1928–2013), he edited the ‘Geomorphology of the British Isles’ series, of which five of the six projected volumes appeared, though not the title for which he was listed as co-author (see Table 1). Brown’s inaugural lecture at UCL in 1968, ‘Man shapes the Earth’, was an exploration of how human action had modified the look of the land, intentionally and not (Brown 1970). Ken Gregory considered the resultant publication ‘a major driver in instigating research in geomorphology on the nature and morphological consequences of human activity’ (pers. comm. 23 Jan 2018). Brown’s other methodological essays advocated quantification and data processing in the study of landforms, and identified principles of historical geomorphology that seek ‘to determine to the fullest possible extent, the history of the shape of the surface of the Earth’ (Brown 1980b, 9; Gregory and Brown 1966). His presidential address to the IBG in January 1979, ‘The shape of Britain’, revealed his radical shift from denudation chronology to the study of processes: ‘Knowledge of how, and at what rates, land forms are currently developing should temper our speculations concerning events earlier in time for which direct evidence of the processes involved is lacking’ (Brown 1979, 451). Elsewhere, he worried that the fragmentation of geography between and

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within physical and human domains (Brown 1969a) had left some varieties of human geography unmoored in the natural environment, and geomorphology too dominant within physical geography, to the detriment of meteorology, climatology and biogeography (Brown 1975). Looking ahead, he favoured an ecological, process-orientated approach, with geographical enquiries being firmly rooted in specific areas, landscapes and environments (Brown 1975, 35). Despite competition from ‘environmental science’, geography continued to flourish because ‘it links the human and physical worlds, and also through its concern with places. We still need to focus upon area, we still need regional geography – or area studies’ (39). This was a very similar conclusion to that reached by Wooldridge a quarter of a century earlier (Wooldridge 1950). In addition to his writings, Brown left a major legacy through his many graduate students. During his first decade at UCL, ‘Eric certainly had his disciples, and was on the lookout for bright young physical geographers’, but grants for research were scarce and many excellent graduates migrated to the United States or Canada for their doctoral work (pers. comm. Bill Packard, June 2005). This situation changed during the 1960s, as the department’s high reputation secured it more funds, though talented geographers, such as Ron Cooke, were ‘put under great pressure’ to change to geology (pers. comm. Ron Cooke, 13 June 2005). During the 1960s inter-collegiate lectures in geomorphology given by geographers from across the University of London became less significant for UCL undergraduates, enabling Brown to attract researchers from among his own students. Echoing Wooldridge’s sentiment – ‘Go away. When you have decided what to do, come back and we will talk about it’ – he allowed novice researchers to find their own way and then afforded them support in organizing their fieldwork, interpreting evidence and writing up their findings succinctly and unambiguously. Colleague Hugh Prince declared: ‘What I admire about Eric is that he brought people on. Eric wanted them to succeed’ (pers. comm. H. C. Prince, June 2005). Brown contrasted his approach with that of H. C. Darby, ‘who was much more pernickety. I didn’t want a structure with everybody fitting into Eric Brown’s research [agenda]. If they wanted total freedom, we would develop something new’. And so it was. Some of his doctoral students worked on glacial and periglacial themes, but others developed hydrological and pedological topics and adopted new analytical techniques, such as remote sensing (see Table 2), and many operated

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in regions far from his own research base. Many became university professors, and some became leaders in their field.

Conclusion Brown’s career was shaped by his relationship with three scholars: Henry Clifford Darby, Bill Mead and especially Sidney Wooldridge. His initial expertise was in denudation chronology, but he espoused new approaches and techniques, and encouraged many of his graduate students to do likewise. He realized the potential of applied geography for tackling real world problems and pointed some of his students and younger colleagues in this direction. His main areas of fieldwork were in Wales and south-east England, but he also had practical experience of very different environments in the Americas, Poland, Iceland, Australasia and China (Brown 1960b, 1961, 1964c, 1969b, 1974, 1978b, 1986; Brown and Cooke 1977; Brown and Salt 1969; Brown and Walsh 1971; Brown et al. 1986). In addition to his scholarly endeavours, he shouldered a heavy burden of administration, at UCL, the RGS and several other learned societies. Sir George Bishop, President of the RGS 1983–7, described Eric Brown as ‘one of the outstanding geographers of his generation [and] an outstanding professor who has rendered great service to the community in many different spheres – from his service as a pilot in the RAF, through his academic career, to his role as a wide adviser to the President and Council of this Society’ (Sir George Bishop, 4 July 1985, Geography Department Archive, UCL). After learning of Brown’s death, Denys Brunsden stated: ‘He was a team player who carried the geomorphological banner through all the important societies … The accumulative achievements of an academic sometimes underpins the future success of generations of students, research programmes, colleagues, departments, their university and the societies which they served. Eric Brown was one of those steadfast, invaluable people who[m] many have cause to remember and thank’ (pers. comm. D. Brunsden, 13 Feb 2018). Old friends and colleagues Gerard and Marion Ward declared: We were sad to hear that Eric had died, but it was after a great life. Eric was certainly a great colleague at UCL … Eric’s memory will stay with us all. (pers. comm. Gerard and Marion Ward, 17 Jan 2018)

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TABLE 1  The Geomorphology of the British Isles series (Methuen)

King, C. A. M.

Northern England (1976)

Sissons, J. B.

Scotland (1976)

Davies G. L. and N. Stephens

Ireland (1978)

Clayton, K. M. and A. Straw

Eastern and Central England (1979)

Jones, D. K. C

Southeast and Southern England (1981)

Brown, E. H., D. Q. Bowen and R. S. Waters

Wales and Southwest England (not published)

TABLE 2  Doctoral and research MPhil students supervised by Eric Brown (topic and completion date)

Alexander, D.

1978

Channel forms in the Basento catchment, Italy

Bird, J.

1962

Shingle deposits at Blakeney Point, Norfolk*

Bovis, M.

1969

Geomorphological processes in the province of Granada, Spain*

Bowden, D. J.

1987

Laterites and pseudo-karst in Sierra Leone

Bowen, D. Q.

1964

Geomorphology of central south Wales

Brosh, A.

1968

Vegetation and landforms in south-west Uganda

Brown, M. J. F.

1971

Glacial geomorphology of Shropshire and Montgomeryshire

Brown, R. W.

1973

Soil formation on man-made surfaces

Brown, W. J.

1965

Geomorphology of west Dorset and south Somerset

Caton, B.

1963

Denudation chronology of the Forest of Dean

Cooke, R. U.

1964

Landforms in the Huasco valley, Chile

Cooke R. U.

1968

Landforms in the Upper Mojave Desert, California

Ellis-Grufydd, B.

1972

Glacial morphology of the Upper Usk Basin

Fishwick, A. B.

1979

Glaciations of the Conway catchment, north Wales

Foster, H. D.

1968

Glaciation of the Harlech Dome

Gregory, K. J.

1962

Geomorphology of the North York Moors

Harvey, A. M.

1967

Basin hydrology and fluvial geomorphology

Hollis, G. E.

1974

Hydrological effects of urbanization

Kochrad, A.

1985

Flood forecasting on the river Sejnane, Tunisia*

McFarlane, M. J.

1969

Laterization and landscape development in Uganda

Marshall, J. R.

1979

Sand grain surface textures

Moffatt, A.

1981

Plio-Pleistocene transgression in the London basin

Nunn, P. D.

1984

Terraces of the River Thames

Geographers

100 Osman, L. M.

1963

Geomorphology of the Nile valley, Upper Egypt

Penning-Rowsell, E.

1970

Lithology and drainage basin morphometry in southern England

Rice, R. J.

1954

Geomorphology of the Upper Wye Basin*

Sheail, G.

1969

Escarpment coombes in the North and South Downs*

Simmons, I. G.

1962

Development of vegetation of Dartmoor

Townshend, J. G. R.

1971

Morphology of small catchments

Tuckfield, C.

1974

Erosion processes in the New Forest

Unwin, D. J.

1971

Glacial geomorphology of Snowdonia*

Weller, M. J.

1959

Geomorphology of Bodmin Moor

White, D. A.

1963

Gulley erosion in southern England*

Wyrwoll, K. H.

1981

Quaternary geomorphological processes in Western Australia

Compiled by Eric Brown. * indicates a research master’s; twelve more candidates were supervised but failed to complete.

Bibliography and sources In preparing this essay I have drawn upon conversations with Eric Brown, Hugh Prince, Tony French, Jim Johnson, Bill Mead, Bill Packard and Andrew Warren that were mostly recorded in June 2005 as part of the oral history of the Department of Geography at UCL. This has allowed Eric’s own voice to come across in the present text. I am grateful to his daughter Jane Bartholomew and his grandson Ian Bartholomew, to Rick Battarbee, Denys Brunsden, Ron Cooke, Roger Crofts, Helen Goldie, the late Ken Gregory, the late Ron Johnston, Anne Oxenham, John Rice, Keith Richards, David Robinson, Bill Willett and Gerard and Marion Ward for sharing their memories. I have used papers about Brown in the archive of the Department of Geography, and his compilation maps for his doctoral thesis and a remarkable volume of illustrations, both in the Department’s Map Collection. The archive of the RGS houses his statement about wartime service. Unfortunately, the two Ordnance Survey 1: 650,000 sheets on which the draft geomorphological map of Britain was recorded have not been found.

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1. References on Eric Brown and his intellectual milieu, and reviews of his works Anon. (1968), ‘A retrospect’, in E. G. Bowen, H. Carter and J. A. Taylor (eds), Geography at Aberystwyth. Essays Written on the Occasion of the Departmental Jubilee 1917–18–1967–68. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, vii, xix–xxxvi. Anon. (1970), ‘John Harold George Lebon’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 51, 223–5. Balchin, W. G. V. (1987), ‘UK geographers in the Second World War’, Geographical Journal 153, 159–80. Balchin, W. G. V., ed. (1997), The Joint School Story. London: Joint School Society. Berman, G. (1961), ‘Review: The Relief and Drainage of Wales’, Journal of Geology 69, 358–9. Berry, B. J. L. (2002), ‘Clara voce cognito’, in P. Gould and F. R. Pitts, Geographical Voices: Fourteen Autobiographical Essays. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1–26. Bowen, E. G. (1936), ‘Introductory background: Prehistoric south Britain’, in H. C. Darby (ed.), An Historical Geography of England before AD 1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1–30. Brunsden, D. (1975–6), ‘Even London has a landscape’, Geographical Magazine 48, 282–9. Brunsden, D. (2018), ‘Obituary: Professor Eric Brown’, British Society for Geomorphology Newsletter, July. Chisholm, M. (1982), ‘Review: Geography, Yesterday and Tomorrow’, Progress in Human Geography 6, 153–4. Clout, H. (2003), Geography at UCL: A Brief History. London: University College London. Clout, H. (2015), ‘William Richard Mead, 1915–2014’, Bibliographical Memoirs of Fellows of the British Academy 14, 383–408. Clout, H. (2018), ‘Eric Herbert Brown, 1922–2018’, Geographical Journal 184, 215–6. Clout, H. and Atkinson, B. W. (2009), ‘Tony Chandler, 1928–2008’, Geographical Journal 175, 82–3. Cooke, R. U. (1969), ‘Progress in geomorphology’, in R. U. Cooke and J. H. Johnson (eds), Trends in Geography. Oxford: Pergamon, 13–22. Crofts, R. S. (1975–6), ‘Rocks in the Highland and Island mists’, Geographical Magazine 48, 602–10. Cullingford, R. A. (1975–6), ‘High and low lands of South Scotland’, Geographical Magazine 48, 478–85. Darby, H. C. and Wooldridge, S. W. (1952), ‘Reginald Thomas Cornish’, Geography 37, 47.

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Diamond, D. (2013), ‘Robert John Price’, Geographical Journal 179, 195–6. East, W. G. (1983), ‘Robert E. Dickinson, 1905–1981’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 8, 122–4. Farmer, B. H. (1984), ‘Charles Alfred Fisher, 1916–1982’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 9, 252–4. Fisher, C. (1970), ‘Dr. J.H.G. Lebon’, Geographical Journal 136, 169–70. George, T. N. (1961), ‘Review: The Relief and Drainage of Wales’, Scottish Geographical Magazine 77, 111. Gregory, K. J. (1975–6), ‘Face of the South-West is its fortune’, Geographical Magazine 48, 539–47. Gregory, S. (1999), ‘Ronald Sidney Waters 1922–1998’, Geographical Journal 165, 247–8. James, P. E. (1982), ‘Review: Geography, Yesterday and Tomorrow’, Economic Geography 58, 288–91. Johnson, D. W. (1931), Stream Sculpture on the Atlantic Slope. New York: Columbia University Press. Johnston, R. J. (2008), ‘Emrys Jones, 1920–2006’, Proceedings of the British Academy 153, Biographical Memoirs of Fellows 7, 243–92. Jones, O. T. (1961), ‘The Relief and Drainage of Wales: An essay review’, Geological Magazine 98, 436–7. Kidson, C. (1961), ‘Review: The Relief and Drainage of Wales’, Geography 46, 172–3. Klimaszewski, M. (1956), ‘Geomorphological mapping in Poland’, Przeglad Geograficzny: Supplement 28, 32–47. Klimaszewski, M. (1990), ‘Thirty years of detailed geomorphological mapping’, Geographica Polonica 58, 11–18. Linton, D. L. (1961), ‘Review: The Physique of Wales’, Geographical Journal 127, 500–2. Maddrell, A. (2009), Complex Locations. Women’s Geographical Work in the UK, 1850–1970. Chichester: Wiley–Blackwell. Middlemiss, F. A. (1990), ‘Francis John Kirkaldy, 1908–1990’, Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association 101, 352–4. Rawstron, E. M. (1985), ‘Arthur Eltringham Smailes, 1911–1984’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 10, 120–2. Rice, J. (1975–6), ‘Hand of Man on the Midland Plains’, Geographical Magazine 48, 415–22. Richards, K., ‘The origins of the British Geomorphological Research Group’ (unpublished manuscript) Salt, J. and Clout, H. (2010), ‘Professor James H. Johnson, 1930–2009’, Geographical Journal 176, 105–7.

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Sinclair, D. J. and Wise, M. J. (1999), ‘R.J. Harrison Church’, Geographical Journal 165, 245–6. Steel, R. W. (1984), The Institute of British Geographers: The First Fifty Years. London: Institute of British Geographers. United Nations (2006), ‘Argentine–Chile frontier case: 9 December 1966’, Reports of International Arbitral Awards 16, 109–82. Waters, R. S. (1975–6), ‘Stamp of ice on the North’, Geographical Magazine 48, 342–8. Wise, M. J. (1983), ‘R. Ogilvie Buchanan, Sir Dudley Stamp and S.W. Wooldridge: Three founder members of the IBG’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 8, 41–54. Wise, M. J. (1997), ‘The Geoids’, in W. G. V. Balchin (ed.), The Joint School Story. London: Joint School Society, 53. Wooldridge, S. W. (1936), ‘The Anglo-Saxon settlement’, in H. C. Darby (ed.), An Historical Geography of England before AD 1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 88–132. Wooldridge, S. W. (1951), ‘Reflections on regional geography in teaching and research’, Transactions and Papers of the Institute of British Geographers 16, 1–11. Wooldridge, S. W. (1953), ‘H.J. Wood’, Geography 38, 36. Wooldridge, S. W. and Linton, D. L. (1939), ‘Structure, surface and drainage in South East England’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 9–10, 1–124 (reprinted by George Philip in 1955).

2. Works by Eric Brown 1949 (with R. Phillips and J. L. Davies) ‘The seasonal distribution of calf and milk sales in north Wales and the probable influence of climatic conditions on the monthly rate of calving and consequent milk production’, Journal of Dairy Research 16, 129–38. 1950 (with R. Phillips) ‘The influence of the environment upon the estimated dressed carcass weight of fat sheep in west Wales (1943–6)’, Journal of Agricultural Science 40, 341–55. 1950 ‘Erosion surfaces in north Cardiganshire’, Transactions and Papers of the Institute of British Geographers 16, 51–66. 1952a ‘The River Ystwyth, Cardiganshire: A geomorphological analysis’, Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association 63, 244–69. 1952b ‘Discussion after S.W. Wooldridge, The changing physical landscape of Britain’, Geographical Journal 118, 306–8.

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1957a ‘The 600-foot platform in Wales’, in International Geographical Union, Proceedings of the VIIIth General Assembly and XVIIth International Congress, Washington, Washington: International Geographical Union, 208–30. 1957b ‘The physique of Wales’, Geographical Journal 123, 208–20 (and discussion, 221–30). 1960a The Relief and Drainage of Wales: A Study in Geomorphological Development. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. 1960b ‘The building of southern Britain’, Zeitschrift für Geomorphologie 4 (3–4), 264–74. 1961 ‘Britain and Appalachia: A study in the correlation and dating of planation surfaces’, Transactions and Papers of the Institute of British Geographers 29, 91–100. 1962 (with W. R. Mead) The USA and Canada: A Regional Geography. London: Hutchinson. 1964a ‘Geomorphology in Poland’, Professional Geographer 16 (2), 22–5. 1964b ‘Field meeting in the Chilterns, near Tring’, Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association 75(3), 341–4. 1964c ‘Some aspects of the geomorphology of south-east England’, in K. M. Clayton (ed.), Guide to London Excursions. London: 20th International Geographical Congress, 113–8. 1964 (with M. P. Kerney and T. J. Chandler) ‘The late-glacial and post-glacial history of the chalk escarpment near Brook, Kent’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London B 248, 135–204. 1965 ‘Glacial and periglacial landscapes in Poland’, Geography 50, 31–44. 1966 ‘Dry valleys in the chalk scarps of south-east England’, Biuletyn Peryglacjalny 15, 75–8. 1967 (with K. J. Gregory) ‘Data processing and the study of landforms’, Zeitschrift für Geomorphologie 10 (3), 237–62. 1969a ‘Jointing, aspect and the orientation of scarp-face dry valleys, near Ivinghoe, Buckinghamshire’, Transactions and Papers of the Institute of British Geographers 48, 61–73. 1969b ‘The teaching of fieldwork and the integration of physical geography’, in R. U. Cooke and J. H. Johnson (eds), Trends in Geography: An Introductory Survey. Oxford: Pergamon, 70–8. 1969c ‘Drainage diversions in the upper Clwyd valley’, Geography 54, 140–51. 1969 (with J. Salt) ‘New city on the Oxford Clay’, Geographical Magazine 41, 830–8. 1970 ‘Man shapes the Earth’, Geographical Journal 136, 74–85. 1970 (with G. P. Askew, J. Thornes, A. Young, J. R. G. Townshend and S. G. Daultrey) ‘Geographical research on the Royal Society/Royal Geographical Society’s

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expedition to north-eastern Mato Grosso, Brazil: A symposium’, Geographical Journal 136, 365–409. 1971 (with P. T. Walsh) ‘Solution subsidence outliers containing probable Tertiary sediment in north-east Wales’, Geological Journal 7, 299–320. 1972 ‘Bushfires in the Dandenong Ranges: The attitudes of residents’, Victoria’s Resources 13 (4), 10–4. 1973–4 (with R. Crofts) ‘Land shape of Britain on a map’, Geographical Magazine 46, 137–40. 1974 (with R. S. Waters) ‘Geomorphology in the United Kingdom since the First World War’, in E. H. Brown and R. S. Waters (eds), Progress in geomorphology: Papers in honour of David L. Linton. Institute of British Geographers, Special Publication 7, 3–9. 1974 ‘The Quaternary terraces of the River Thames’, in P. Macar (ed.), Centenaire de la Société Géologique de Belgique: L’évolution quaternaire des bassins fluviaux de la Mer du Nord méridionale. Liège: Société Géologique de Belgique, 241–51. 1975 ‘The content and relationships of physical geography’, Geographical Journal 141, 35–48. 1975 (with M. C. Edgell) ‘The bushfire environment of south-eastern Australia’, Journal of Environmental Management 3, 329–49. 1975–6 ‘Hillsides and valleys’, Geographical Magazine 48, 203–9. 1975–6 (with K. J. Gregory) ‘Landscape in the eye of the beholder’, Geographical Magazine 48, 145–50. 1977 (with R. U. Cooke) ‘Landforms and related glacial deposits in the Wheeler valley area, Clwyd’, Cambria 4 (1), 32–45. 1978a ‘China visited’, Area 10, 1–3. 1978b ‘Land under London’, in H. Clout (ed.), Changing London. Cambridge: University Tutorial Press, 138–47. 1978 (with M. M. Sweeting, E. Derbyshire, K. J. Gregory and D. R. Stoddart) ‘British geographers in China, 1977’, Geographical Journal 144, 187–207. 1979 ‘The shape of Britain’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, New Series, 4 (4), 449–62. 1980a (editor) Geography Yesterday and Tomorrow. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Spanish edition Geografia pasado y futuro. Mexico: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1985). 1980b ‘Historical geomorphology – principles and practice’, Zeitschrift für Geomorphologie 24, 9–15. 1986 ‘Land under London’, in H. Clout and P. Wood (eds), London: Problems of Change. London: Longman, 5–13.

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1986 (with A. J. Moffat, J. A. Catt and R. Webster) ‘A re-examination of the evidence for a Plio-Pleistocene marine transgression on the Chiltern Hills. I. Structures and surfaces’, Earth Surface Processes and Landforms 11, 95–106.

Chronology 1922

Born in Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire, 8 December

1933–9

Educated at King Edward VII Grammar School, Melton Mowbray

1940–1

Educated at King’s College, London, evacuated to Bristol

1941–5

Served in the Royal Air Force

1945

Married Eileen Reynolds

1945–7

Graduated BSc from King’s College, London

1947

Appointed assistant lecturer at University College Wales, Aberystwyth

1949

Graduated MSc with dissertation on the Geomorphology of North Cardiganshire

1950

Appointed lecturer at UCL, 1 January

1952

Traversed the United States; attended 17th International Geographical Congress at Washington, DC

1953–4

Taught at the University of Indiana

1954–66

Served as departmental tutor in the Department of Geography, UCL

1955

Graduated PhD with dissertation on Contributions to the geomorphology of Wales

1960

Publication of The Relief and Drainage of Wales

1961

Promoted Reader in Geography at UCL; awarded Back Grant by the RGS

1962

Publication of The United States and Canada (with W. R. Mead)

1963

Visited Poland, 3 April to 15 May

1964–5

Taught geomorphology one afternoon each week at the University of Leicester

1965

Attended the 7th International Association for Quaternary Research Congress at Boulder, Colorado

1966

Promoted Professor of Physical Geography at UCL

1966–8

Geographical adviser to Argentina on boundary dispute with Chile (and also 1992–4)

1967

Participated in expedition to Breidamerjӧkull region, Iceland; made the first of

1968

Participated in Mato Grosso expedition, Brazil; made honorary member of the

three short visits to the University of Ibadan, Nigeria (also in 1968 and 1969). Geographical Society of Argentina 1971

Visiting professor Monash University, Australia

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1972–5

Dean of Students, UCL

1976

Attended 23rd International Geographical Congress, Moscow, with excursion in Siberia

1977

Visited China

1977–87

Honorary Secretary of the RGS

1978

President of the Institute of British Geographers

1980

Headed the UK delegation to the 24th International Geographical Congress, Japan

1981–4

Member of the Natural Environment Research Council

1982

Attended the 10th International Association for Quaternary Research Congress at Moscow

1983–8

Chaired Remote Sensing Committee of the Natural Environment Research Council

1984

Death of Eileen Brown; appointed member of the UNESCO Scientific Advisory Committee on Land Transformation; deputy leader of the United Kingdom delegation to the 25th International Geographical Congress, Paris

1985–90

Chaired the British National Committee for Geography

1987

Visited Tibet

1988

Retired from UCL, elected professor emeritus

1988–9

Vice-President of the RGS

1992

Elected foreign member of the Polish Academy of Sciences and Letters

2002

Awarded honorary doctorate, University of York

2018

Died at Berkhamsted, 5 January

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4

Maurice Le Lannou (1906–92) Hugh Clout

Breton geographer Maurice Le Lannou is best known for his work on Sardinia, Brittany, Europe and Brazil. Having studied history and geography in a combined degree at the Ecole Normale Supérieure and the Sorbonne in Paris and subsequently completing a doctorate on the human geography of Sardinia, he taught geography in high schools in Brittany and then lectured at universities in Rennes and Lyon before being elected to the Collège de France, where he occupied a chair of European geography. He also contributed an influential column on geographical matters to Le Monde for over thirty years. During his career he was confronted by two critical academic challenges: the

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emergence of geography as an increasingly independent subject in French universities, and the quest for methodological innovation among French geographers who wished to demonstrate both the identity and utility of their subject. Despite occasional statements in favour of new approaches, Le Lannou was fundamentally a traditionalist who retained a strong historical approach in his own work, and insisted that regional study and historical geography remained the pinnacle of geographical endeavour.

Education, life and work Maurice Le Lannou was born on 8 May 1906 at Plouha, just within the area of Breton speech in the département of Côtes-du-Nord (now Côtes-d’Armor) on the northern coast of Brittany. His paternal grandfather had been a literate, itinerant tailor who instructed others, and his father, Théophile-Marie (1881– 1966), was a village schoolteacher with a passion for reading, who married one of his former pupils, Adèle Geffroy (1882–1965), in 1904 (Le Lannou 1979a, 17). Maurice grew up bilingual since family matters were always discussed in Breton, but his father gave his lessons in very correct French that had been acquired at teacher training college (86). When Maurice was still young, his father was promoted to teach in the nearby town of Saint-Brieuc and it was there that Maurice spent most of his youth, but the family returned to Plouha during school holidays (73). This was a common practice on the part of rural-urban migrants, with the country residence remaining part of the family patrimoine and a focus of family reunion. Maurice was fascinated by the lending library for teachers that his father managed on behalf of colleagues and he, in turn, became an insatiable reader. He excelled in his studies at the lycée (state high school) in Saint-Brieuc and passed the entrance examination to advance his studies at the prestigious Lycée Louis-le-Grand in central Paris. In late September 1924 his proud father took him to this illustrious institution and announced to one of the teachers: ‘Monsieur, here is my son, who has spent seven excellent years at the lycée of Saint-Brieuc in Brittany’ (176). With a smile, the teacher declared: ‘I am happy to welcome him and, believe me, I have nothing against Bretons. But I must tell you that you have brought me the eighty-sixth excellent young man to arrive here today’ (176).

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Maurice responded well to the meticulous tuition that he received at Louisle-Grand and developed his early interest in classical music (Brigaglia 2006). In 1928 he passed the extremely demanding national competitive examination to study at the Ecole Normale Supérieure (ENS) (rue d’Ulm) which educated the nation’s intellectual elite. Attending lectures at the University of Paris (la Sorbonne) as well as seminars at the ENS, he chose to concentrate on history and geography that were taught at this time together in a combined degree in French universities. The greater part of the programme was devoted to history, but Le Lannou was especially attracted to the classes that he received in geography. These were given by Emmanuel de Martonne (1873–1955), eminent physical geographer, director of the Institute of Geography and son-inlaw of the legendary Paul Vidal de La Blache (1845–1917), Albert Demangeon (1872–1940) who specialized in human geography, and André Cholley (1886– 1968) who taught cartography and regional geography (Geographers 12, 11, 31, respectively). Having acquired his licence-ès-lettres degree in history and geography, Le Lannou prepared for the agrégation examination that would give him the necessary qualification to teach at an advanced level in state lycées or to instruct in a French university. During 1931 he passed that rigorous examination, being placed tenth out of twenty-four successful candidates in history and geography. His first teaching post was at the lycée in Brest in western Brittany, but with encouragement from Demangeon he set his sights on undertaking part-time research to obtain a state doctorate (doctorat-èslettres), which was a necessary, if not sufficient, qualification for a professorial chair in a French state university. Demangeon recommended Le Lannou to contact his friend Jules Sion (1879–1940), who was professor of geography at the University of Montpellier and contributor on Italy and Greece to the volumes of the Géographie Universelle that had been conceived by Vidal de La Blache before the First World War (Le Lannou 1941a, vii) (Geographers 12). Le Lannou’s initial idea was to research the Po basin, but Sion advised against this, fearing that the young man would soon become bored with this low-lying area. Instead, he suggested the island of Sardinia as appropriate for fieldwork, provided that Le Lannou could rise to numerous challenges, including mastery of local dialects. Le Lannou visited the island in the summer of 1931 and became captivated by its people and landscapes (Le Lannou 1941a, vii). After his marriage to

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Adrienne Tréhiou on 21 May 1934 he made a further visit in the summer of 1934 and then, with Demangeon’s help, obtained a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Such funding was almost unheard of in France at this time, but it enabled Le Lannou to take leave of absence from his teaching post for full-time research on the island from the autumn of 1935 to the summer of 1937. During this period he coped with Italian and Sardinian but continued to struggle with local dialects. He explored the island by motorcycle or on foot, but these years proved difficult since the Italian authorities were very suspicious of foreigners during this time of Fascist rule when Italy was at war in Abyssinia and there was civil war in Spain (64). Le Lannou reported several enforced visits to village police stations that enabled friendships to be made with some of the island’s carabinieri. But these incidents were not a major drawback. More serious were the official regulations that prevented the use of detailed economic statistics or any maps published after 1935. I had to employ a few tricks to consult the figures, and drew help from benevolent friends. But tricks proved to no avail regarding mining, which was strictly controlled by the military. Hence, I had to give up the idea of studying mining. (vii)

Despite these difficulties, in 1936 Le Lannou published his first paper about Sardinia which was devoted to the island’s terrain (Le Lannou 1936a). In the following year he was arrested and imprisoned in Buoncammino gaol having photographed an object that the carabinieri insisted was of military significance and therefore secret. ‘Travelling on a motorcycle and wearing zuava trousers and a quilted cap, he was dressed like spies that were seen in the movies’ (Brigaglia 2006). A representative of the Rockefeller Foundation presented his plight to the United States embassy in Rome. Eventually ‘he was returned to the land of liberty’ but ‘not without a curious ending’ since he was made to pay for the food that had been brought to him from the local trattoria while he was incarcerated. ‘But Buoncammino was quite out of the way and the young professor had to wait for a guard to be dispatched from the city’ of Cagliari to release him (Brigaglia 2006)! In all Le Lannou spent twenty-four months on Sardinia, an island that he often called his ‘land of adoption’. He then divided his energies back in Brest between drafting his thesis and writing a popular book entitled Itinéraires de

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Bretagne that guided visitors along selected routes in western Brittany (Le Lannou 1938). He began most routes in a town and then introduced readers to selected viewpoints, farms, artisan workshops and archaeological sites. The professor of geography at Rennes, André Meynier (1901–83), judged the book as useful not only to tourists and teachers but to ‘everyone who wishes to be seriously informed about Brittany’ (Meynier 1938, 385) (Geographers 36). However, these were difficult times, as France became involved in the ‘phony war’ in 1939 and then suffered German invasion in May 1940. At this moment of national tragedy and great personal anxiety Demangeon died on 25 July 1940, leaving Le Lannou without a doctoral patron. Despite this grave loss, he completed his thesis in 1941 and delivered it for printing, as was the requirement of the time. Early in the following year, it was successfully examined by an academic jury at the Sorbonne. German occupation of the port city of Brest led to the closure of the local lycée and Le Lannou’s post was transferred to the university city of Rennes in eastern Brittany, where he became active in various organizations for local schoolteachers. In 1941 a special course on the economic geography of Brittany was initiated at the university and entrusted to Le Lannou who worked alongside André Meynier (Anon. 1952, 12; Le Lannou 1983; Pocquet du HautJussé 1942, 134). As well as teaching and lecturing, Le Lannou became active in Resistance networks in eastern Brittany and around Plouha, receiving the Médaille de la Résistance as well as the Croix de Guerre 1939–1945 once peace was restored (Agulhon 1992; Flatrès 1993, 213). He used spare moments to edit the manuscript on fisheries and fishermen in Brittany that his friend Charles Robert-Muller (1880–1942) had prepared for his doctoral thesis but did not survive to submit for examination (Robert-Muller 1944). In 1945 Le Lannou was appointed senior lecturer (maître de conférences) at Rennes, and in the following year served as geographical expert on an international commission charged with defining the boundary between Italy and Yugoslavia in the environs of Trieste (Le Lannou 1947). During 1947 he spent time as visiting professor at the Escole Livre de Sociologia e Politica at São Paulo in Brazil, and in the summer of that year moved from Rennes to a chair of geography at the University of Lyon (Le Lannou 1948a). The late 1940s were an exceptionally busy time for Le Lannou who brought out a methodological text, entitled La Géographie humaine, to assist not only

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students who were taking the new single honours degree in geography that had been initiated during the German occupation but also those who continued with the traditional combined studies programme (Le Lannou 1949a). He converted his course on Brittany into a two-volume book (Le Lannou 1950–2). In 1952 Le Lannou began what would prove to be a long association with Le Monde national newspaper to which he submitted articles on a great variety of geographical topics. As well as delivering courses at the University of Lyon on the regional geography of France, the Mediterranean and tropical lands, he was employed by the Collège d’Europe in Bruges where, from 1950 to 1963, he taught concurrently with his post in Lyon and served on the academic council of the Collège. In 1960, following the retirement of André Allix (1886–1966), rector of the académie of Lyon since 1945 who had responsibility for all aspects of state education in the area, Le Lannou became president of the Société de Géographie de Lyon. Unlike his predecessor, he did not hold this organization in particularly high regard, nor was he active in forging new links with the municipality and the city’s bankers and businessmen. At the same time, he became director of the Institut d’Etudes Rhodaniennes which was devoted to undertaking local research. Two years later he became editor of its publication, the Revue de Géographie de Lyon, and broadened its coverage from an earlier focus on Lyon and the Rhône valley to Europe and the Mediterranean world. He was also director of the Institute for the Geography of the Near and Middle East, based in Beirut, which was linked academically to the University of Lyon (Le Lannou 1966). During the 1960s he enlisted the help of his colleagues to produce the ‘Collection Maurice Le Lannou’ textbooks for the Bordas publishing house. At the age of sixty Maurice Le Lannou resigned from his post in Lyon, having been elected to the distinguished Collège de France, where a chair of ‘Geography of the Continent of Europe’ was created for him. His immediate predecessor was Roger Dion (1896–1981) whose chair was devoted to the study of historical geography (Geographers 18). The Collège occupies premises close to the Sorbonne, provides lectures and classes for members of the general public, but does not award degrees. Drawing on themes from his courses in Paris, Le Lannou published Europe, terre promise and La Bretagne et les Bretons after his tenure at the Collège ended in 1976 (Le Lannou 1977a, 1978). In 1975, he was elected to the prestigious Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques joining his friend Pierre George (1909–2006) who was then the only

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geographer in that fellowship (Geographers 29). In a very productive retirement Le Lannou wrote a history of his family up to the moment he entered the Lycée Louis-le-Grand, and an affectionate study of the town of Saint-Brieuc where he had spent much of his youth (Le Lannou 1979a, 1986). A project on L’Esprit des Lieux (spirit of place) that was mentioned in 1979 failed to materialize. In 1987 he suffered a severe stroke that left him partially paralysed, but in the following year he summoned sufficient strength to preside over a meeting of the Académie. Thereafter his physical health continued to fail, rendering him immobile but not diminishing his mental capacity. Maurice Le Lannou maintained his life-long tradition of spending the summer in Plouha and it was there that he died on 2 July 1992. He was survived by his wife Adrienne, who died at Plouha in December 2013 at the age of ninety-seven and by two daughters and a son.

Scientific ideas and geographic thought As a disciple of De Martonne, Demangeon and Cholley, Le Lannou was exposed to Vidalian geography in which regional study was of vital importance; explanations of landscapes and regions were found in the subtle – almost mystical – interplay of physical and human phenomena; and cartography provided not only a means of depicting spatial features but also a method of analysis. In many respects, his doctoral thesis was a traditional regional monograph in which physical and historical processes were adduced to elucidate present conditions, and local variations in landscapes and socioeconomic activities were defined. There was, however, a notable divergence from convention since he paid relatively little attention to physical geography and favoured investigating cultural dynamics across a broad span of time. This was later recognized as a study in géohistoire (Muscarà 1993, 236). Le Lannou’s approach reflected not only his substantial training as an historian but also his belief that Sardinia was ‘an old rural country that exhibits very ancient landscapes (des tableaux très anciens) that have hardly been modified, unlike those of many other Mediterranean regions’ (Le Lannou 1941a, 3). As well as broad expanses of rough grazing land and numerous flocks of sheep and goats, the island displayed other important traits through

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the archaic character of human activity, implements, dress, customs, language, and agricultural and pastoral traditions. All these ancient aspects of life do not escape geography; they are important in fashioning landscapes and cast light on the role of insularity. And above all, they made my research into this backward world so captivating that I came to love it passionately, as one loves things that are under threat. If the present book fails to arouse the same sentiments among my readers, I shall not have performed my task satisfactorily. (4–5)

After declaring that, unlike Corsica, Sardinia is an island of plateaux rather than mountains, Le Lannou chose not to examine geology or terrain but moved directly to matters of climate and soils. After drought, ‘the scourge that is most feared throughout Sardinia is the arrival of sand, gravel and pebbles washed by the rain from neighbouring slopes on to cultivated fields or pastures’ (47). He argued that the island had no genuinely ‘natural’ vegetation since everywhere was used for grazing or, less frequently, for cultivation. The occurrence of malaria – about which he had written already – provided not only the critical link between nature and humankind, but afforded ‘the real cause for the backwardness of Sardinia’ (79; Le Lannou 1936b). Insisting that the ‘infinitely complex relationship between people and the land may not be seized without enlightenment from history’, Le Lannou then explored the legacy of the past in fashioning the present (Le Lannou 1941a, 81). His attention was captured by the eight thousand ‘majestic conical edifices called nuraghes [that were] scattered across the island, more or less conserved, which convey a solemn grandeur to its immense, deserted areas’ (85). Archaeological research showed that these nuraghes, whose function remains unknown, were built ‘across ten centuries, and many must have been erected at the time of the Roman conquest’ (88). Some were arranged in small groups of three or four but others stood in complete isolation. Le Lannou then explored the immemorial conflict between sedentary farmers who sought to defend their property from invasion by flocks whose shepherds took every opportunity to transgress traditional divisions between grazing land and cultivated plots. Defence and self-sufficiency were shown to be essential themes in Sardinian life from the eighth century to the seventeenth century when the island experienced repeated attacks by pirates and other invaders. Thereafter, Sardinia’s historic nucleated settlements started to be complemented by

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isolated farms that were carved from rough grazing land and were normally surrounded by stone walls. After tracing these developments, Le Lannou refined house-type and morphological typologies devised by Demangeon, enabling him to recognize three main components in the vernacular housing of the island and to advance a sequence of settlement forms. He was aware that in his geographical monograph ‘the long pages of history may appear surprising [but] they are indispensable for understanding Sardinian landscapes since there is perhaps no other country in the world that is so perfectly marked by history’ (166). Combining evidence from the relationship of rough grazing to cultivated land, and from local expressions of settlement and handicraft activity, Le Lannou identified six types of sub-region. He traced how recent land improvement schemes (bonifications) drained marshland and installed new farmsteads, but he insisted that ‘old Sardinia is only slightly tamed … Challenged, restricted, and viewed as foreign, the bonifications are simply grandiose experiments without profound results’ (331). Perhaps because of its publication during the German occupation and following the death of Demangeon, Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne was not discussed in the pages of the Annales de Géographie, the leading geographical periodical in France. However, Le Lannou provided a useful summary of his findings in a journal aimed at schoolteachers and Raoul Blanchard (1877– 1965), professor of geography at Grenoble, wrote a long and almost entirely positive review (Le Lannou 1941b; Blanchard 1942) (Geographers 32). He praised the ‘rich collection of new facts’ and enthused about the author’s ‘good photographs and the profusion of intelligent and expressive maps and diagrams’ as well his lively writing style that rendered him ‘a joyful companion’ with whom to explore the island (Blanchard 1942, 633). His one regret was Le Lannou’s failure to draw comparisons with the neighbouring island of Corsica that he himself had studied (Blanchard 1914, 1927). A similar comment was raised by historian Henri-Irénée Marrou (1904–77) who would have welcomed wider comparisons with Sicily and other Mediterranean islands (Marrou 1943). Writing under the pseudonym M. Fougères, historian Marc Bloch (1886–1944) declared that ‘it would be difficult to imagine a more attractive research topic for a young geographer’, and proceeded to praise Le Lannou’s work for ‘breathing the lightness of discovery’ that was ‘one of the reasons one would read it for pleasure as well as for academic profit’ (Fougères 1943, 94).

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Dwelling at length on Le Lannou’s treatment of nuraghes and field systems, he wished that more had been said about changes in Sardinian society across the centuries. In 1945 the Société de Géographie de Paris awarded Le Lannou its Prix Auguste Logerot for his thesis. Later French scholars evaluated it not only as ‘remarkable’ and ‘brilliant’ but as ‘a masterpiece of regional geography’ (Agulhon 1992; Claval 1998, 267; Sermet 1957, 209). Such views were shared at mid-century by Italian reviewers (Baldacci 1949). The plates used to print Le Lannou’s thesis, together with fifty-eight original maps and seventy-nine photographs from his own camera, were destroyed during the bombing of the Arrault publishing house in Tours during the Second World War, but in 1971 a Sardinian publisher, La Zettera, produced a reprint (Le Lannou 1971a; Brigaglia 2006). During the 1970s interest grew in this remarkable book in French and Sardinian historian Manilo Brigaglia (1929–2018) made a translation into Italian. He also wrote a perceptive introductory essay that set the thesis into the methodological context of its time. Pastori e contadini di Sardegna was duly published by the Edizioni Della Torre in Cagliari in March 1979 and was very favourably reviewed as a ‘fitting and articulate work’ of contemporary history that remained of continuing relevance to understanding the island, despite having been written more than four decades previously and lacking the kind of theoretical underpinnings that would be expected in more recent work (Anon., 1980, 309; Tanca 2014). A second edition came out only nine months later and by June 2006 Pastori e contadini reached its fourth edition, with five of Le Lannou’s essays (of which four had appeared in Le Monde) being appended to present aspects of change in the island’s human geography since mid-century (Le Lannou 1979b, 2006). While continuing to work on the economic geography of Brittany in the years immediately after the Second World War, Le Lannou took the unusual step of writing a book about the methodology of geography for the philosophy of science series brought out by the Flammarion publishing house, airing his argument in a lecture delivered soon after his arrival in Lyon (Le Lannou 1948b). This was, of course, the time when the first students in France were completing the new degree in geography, rather than following the popular combined studies programme that remained available. Le Lannou’s experience of teaching and research gave him the uneasy feeling that:

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despite brilliant work and substantial developments, this unfortunate [geographical] discipline has not managed to gain assurance in a firm and decisive way regarding its methods … and even its objectives. Coming under fire from many directions, it is losing its personality around its fringes and in its research … Geographers have become erudite generalists – their opponents call them jacks of all trades (des touches-à-tout). (Le Lannou 1949a, 5)

He insisted that the time was right for geographers to proclaim that their subject had its own objectives and was not simply sweeping up fragments from sociology, ethnology, history, economics and other fields of learning (Lazzarotti 2006, 176). Furthermore, he maintained that the human sciences as a whole were lagging behind progress in the natural sciences, since ‘we can split the atom, but we cannot cope with unemployment’ (Le Lannou 1949a, 8). However, he was optimistic that ‘human geography, at the intersection of techniques and philosophies, is well placed to catch up on some of this delay, one day’ (8). Often equating ‘geography’ with ‘human geography’, he structured his subsequent argument around three points: the definition (or ‘personality’) of geography, its complexity and its vocation. As a faithful disciple of Albert Demangeon, Maurice Le Lannou insisted that the practice of geography should focus on human beings and that all geographical research should start and end with humankind (Buttimer 1971, 139; Demangeon 1942, 25–34). In his eyes, geography was ‘the science of manthe-inhabitant’ (homme-habitant) and he proceeded to explain that ‘to inhabit is to live on a fragment of the planet, to draw from it what is needed to satisfy the basic needs of existence, to meet a certain number of additional needs, and even to generate some surplus commodities’ (Le Lannou 1949a, 11). He felt that human geography had become discredited since it could not be formulated as convincingly as work in the exact sciences. Even so, he maintained, in France at least, ‘most professional geographers, more or less consciously, have reached agreement over the primacy of human geography’ within the discipline (33). Nonetheless, he argued that position should not weaken their interest in physical geography since any investigation of human groups and their occupation of parts of the earth’s surface requires an understanding of the physical world. Indeed, ‘human beings must be seen as forming a component

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of the natural environment’ (45). Works in ‘so-called physical geography [that were] undertaken by researchers who started in geography but left it to join the body of natural scientists’ and who expressed their ideas in geological ‘jargon’ irritated and dismayed him (Le Lannou 1949b, 82). Having established his ground Le Lannou delved into the complex character of human geography. Unlike scholars in the past, he showed how contemporary geographers rejected the allegation that physical circumstances directly controlled human activity. Even so, ‘physical geography has its place in the causality we are seeking but, far from imposing itself in a direct way, [it] enters into the geographical condition only through expressions of human activity, working with the technology and economic and social circumstances of the time’ (Le Lannou 1949a, 80). Nonetheless, the significance of extremes of heat and cold, of drought and flood could not be ignored. Le Lannou continued to argue that the notion of ‘physical environment’ needed to be refined since ‘it is evident that mankind has so profoundly transformed the initial conditions offered by nature, that virgin landscapes scarcely exist anymore’ (92). Rather than privileging physical factors in causation, geographers must accept that ‘the real environment of mankind is a combination of physical, biological and human elements’, and that ‘not all of these change at the same pace, with some shifting only slowly and others appearing to be stable’ (92, 127). Hence the geographical notion of genre de vie (way of life), whereby ‘nature orders … spatial configurations and every step taken by mankind’, had become a questionable concept in the wake of massive socio-economic changes in recent years (147). Despite such concern, regional geography retained pride of place in Le Lannou’s vision of the discipline, whereby geographers sought ‘to describe and understand all the factors that express how a human group installs itself on a piece of the planet. Hence, regional study is concerned with processes and interactions as much as with places’ (161). Rather than following tradition in recognizing natural, historic and economic regions, he argued that attention should be directed to defining functional regions and exploring the role of such explanatory factors as innovation, invention, ingenuity, capital and consumption. Drawing on ideas translated from economic science into French geography by Jean Gottmann (1915–94), Le Lannou declared that he favoured consumption ‘as the final regulator of production and transport, and as the

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great motor of geographical differentiation on the planet’ (195; Gottmann 1947) (Geographers 25). He argued that crossroads, nodes and networks of flows were notions ‘rich in meaning for the geographer’, and declared that a time might be envisaged when nodes and networks, and the dynamics of socio-economic regions could be described by formulae or other mathematical expressions (Le Lannou 1949a, 196). However, he felt that such a moment ‘has not yet been reached, but it seems to me that these ideas open up encouraging perspectives. In any case, I hope that they help to discredit the out-dated methods of our old fashioned regional geography’ (197). As mid-century fast approached, Le Lannou argued that geographers should not ignore political geography, which had been discredited in the eyes of French scholars through its association with National Socialist Geopolitik in Germany. New states and post-war boundaries had given rise to new divisions of space, and Le Lannou was anxious that his fellow geographers should not ‘be cut off from the most turbulent realities of the world’ by eschewing political geography and two great facts that transformed spatial interaction across the globe (199). First, was ‘the displacement to the United States of the command post of a system once controlled by Great Britain’, and the associated emergence of the USA as the leading economic player ‘capable of controlling the markets for raw materials and for a very wide range of manufactured goods’ (222–3). Second there was the role of the Soviet Union as a power of growing significance in Eastern Europe and Asia. As well as fully grasping these new perspectives on the world system, he maintained that geographers should familiarize themselves with financial affairs in the ‘city’ rather than remaining aloof in their ivory towers. ‘On the contrary’, he declared, ‘I think we should attach ourselves to this dynamic geography that is undergoing tumultuous gestation’ (227). Projecting his innovative vision even further, Le Lannou insisted that ‘human geography – or even all of geography – is concerned with the construction of the world. It is an expression of human and natural history, but should also be a way of thinking and behaving’ (une orientation) (230). Regrettably, there were many impediments to innovation, of which the first was the factual, encyclopaedic approach to learning geography adopted in French schools. As a result, ‘there is an enormous distance, almost an empty gulf, between the main body of troops [schoolteachers] and the rapid advance

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guard of professional geographers’ in universities (232). But there was an even more serious drawback, since ‘the advance guard, in its zeal, is remarkably dispersed’, and was unable to speak to schoolteachers and their pupils with a single voice (232). Le Lannou also insisted that the French obsession with interpreting topographic maps impeded new thinking, since ‘the map is an excellent tool for analysis and checking but is no more than that’ (234). Yet another impediment involved the failure of university geographers to pay suitably informed attention to social and economic processes that were critical in shaping regional configurations. Having diagnosed French geography and suggested how the subject might develop in the future, as it embarked on a separate existence from history, Le Lannou hesitated, expressed doubts and turned back to familiar terrain. Unlike economists and sociologists who devised general rules and theories, he felt that geographers should be concerned with concrete, present and diversified elements that make up the rainbowcoloured array (bigarrure) of regional units. We must also work in concert with historians. One cannot create a geographical picture without the help of history. Our objectives are almost exactly the same, with just this difference. We [geographers] are concerned with the current organization of the planet, while historians are concerned with its precedents … But the two disciplines remain sisters. Together they pursue our understanding of man-the-inhabitant. (244)

As he continued with his occupation of long-held ground, Le Lannou stated that geographers should not give way to the temptation to indulge in thematic or systematic enquiry but should study ‘regional configurations elaborated by mankind on the planet’ (244). Such an approach would embrace investigations of ‘national groupings that furnish some keys to the problems that impact with increasing rigour on the peace of the world’ (245). To put this kind of anthropocentric geography into practice ‘would most certainly be a fine craft’ (un beau métier, assurément) (245). Maurice Le Lannou’s interesting, provocative and yet contradictory text appeared in Japanese in 1952, but was not translated into any other language. Having attracted considerable critical acclaim when it came out, it faded into obscurity as the years passed. However, Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier (1917–95) commended it to teachers and academics for its careful diagnosis

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of the state of French geography, ‘which faced grave dangers: the risk of encyclopaedism, the peril of fragmentation, and the threat of dispersal’, each of which, she insisted, challenged its survival as a unified discipline that was distinct from history (Beaujeu-Garnier 1949, 185) (Geographers 28). Pierre George also applauded Le Lannou’s analytical skills and his ability to stimulate ‘constructive discussions’ about the future of geography, declaring the book ‘agreeable and easy to read’, but not without fault (George 1950, 218). He criticized the notion of ‘man-the-inhabitant’ as outdated, and – as an economic geographer with Marxist sympathies – regretted the emphasis that Le Lannou placed on consumption rather than on production. He condemned the use of ‘man’ (homme) rather than ‘human groups’ (groupes humains), and remained unconvinced that geography could truly become an ‘applied’ subject, arguing that geographers should supply and synthesize information rather than use it to devise policy. The latter task, he maintained, should be the responsibility of elected politicians. Such a debate about the ‘appropriate’ involvement of French geographers in practical planning became both heated and prolonged among the corporation of scholars. Perhaps more significant – and threatening – was the review essay in the Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations by historian Fernand Braudel (1902–85), whose academic influence was growing rapidly (Braudel 1951) (Geographers 22). Braudel declared to the journal’s large readership that Le Lannou’s book was important, courageous, lively and daring, and argued that its third section was ‘far and away the best as it assembles the most important tasks that are most appropriate for the vocation and effectiveness of the geographer’ (Braudel 1951, 488). With the emergence of geography as a distinct discipline in French universities, he remarked that he was ‘happy to see geography at work, in the place where the most imperialist of our [historian and sociologist] colleagues do not always see it; at the heart of all research into the lives of men in the past, present and future’ (492). From reading the book, he maintained that ‘the major problem is not “the human region”, but is the participation of human geography in collective research into the social’ (492). In other words, he questioned the very existence of geography as a distinctive discipline, insisting: ‘There is not a history on its own, a political economy on its own: there is a group of connected [social] studies whose bundle should not be broken up’ (492). Braudel continued to develop his ‘imperialist’ discourse

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to the detriment of geography as his own scholarly and administrative role became increasingly powerful in future decades. After completing La Géographie humaine, Le Lannou returned to his work on Brittany that grew out of lectures to students in the University of Rennes, where his audience included newly independent geographers who were taking history as an ancillary subject and historians who were being exposed to the physical, regional and cartographic rudiments of geography in the traditional combined studies degree. Almost all his students were intending to become schoolteachers – indeed Le Lannou alleged that ‘a professor of geography, in a [French] university, has only about two students in every hundred who intend to devote themselves to something other than teaching’ (Le Lannou 1961, 813). His two-volume work on Brittany bore greater similarity in tone and structure to his doctoral thesis than to the third section of his methodological text. Indeed, he remarked that a great part of his new book had the appearance of an historic narration, for how can one understand the personality of a region if one does not appreciate efforts that were made to adapt to changes, either slow or rapid, that were imposed by a changing world. The character of a region is affirmed by its style of adaptation rather than by its eternal features. The fixed and the mobile are, in fact, inseparable. Is this geography? Or history? Despite the academic necessity to justify two subjects and two groupings of researchers, I do not see that it is possible to establish a decisive division between these disciplines. (Le Lannou 1952, 9; Baker 2003, 168)

Accepting this deeply rooted relationship, Le Lannou specified that the role of a geographer is ‘to examine conditions whereby a group of people establishes itself on a piece of land, assures its subsistence, modifies the landscape, maintains its coherence, and builds a regional life that distinguishes it from its neighbours’ (Le Lannou 1950, 8). Indeed, he argued that in exploring the economic geography of the province, ‘many factors will intervene that do not relate to the ethnic origins of the Bretons, or the distinctive natural conditions of Brittany’ (8). Le Lannou began by insisting that Brittany was the isolated part of a larger geographic realm, that of ‘Western France, with its enclosed fields (bocage), hamlets, scattered farms, and twisting, shady trackways. [Within this domain] the image of Brittany emerges by small brushstrokes: a standing stone

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amidst moorland, a stone cross (calvaire), variations in women’s traditional headdresses, differences in peasant costume, and the abrupt sound of Breton speech’ (9). A second essential characteristic was the presence of the sea, which ‘surrounds and penetrates the peninsula, conferring its maritime fringe (the Armor) with the dignity of a true natural region’ (13). Unlike many parts of France in the middle of the twentieth century, and certainly those close to Paris, Brittany remained a backward province where agricultural modernization, industrial development and highway construction had yet to occur. True to his rejection of physical determinism, Le Lannou sketched ‘the suggestions of nature’ rather than treating aspects of physical geography as facts. High humidity, strong winds and extensive areas of moorland – that had been subjected to reclamation across the centuries – received much attention, as did the formation of bocage landscapes, which he likened to ‘a harlequin’s coat made of many-coloured patches’ (119). Created piece by piece, in countless phases, the bocage was ‘the result of human activity, and its history is essential’ to any study of Brittany (119). The typical isolation of Breton people and their ideas might be attributed to ‘the damp verdure of hedges and sunken trackways’ (121). Adopting an approach reminiscent of his monograph on Sardinia, Le Lannou devoted over two hundred pages to the historical geography of Brittany, tracing early settlement, the arrival of Bretons in the fifth and sixth centuries AD, the establishment of hamlets and isolated farmsteads, reclamation of moorland and creation of ecclesiastical parishes. Nonetheless, vast expanses of rough grazing remained until the twentieth century and contrasted with the bocage. The historic landscape of Brittany also included small patches of openfield (méchou) whose fertility was assured by applications of seaweed, mud and comminuted shells. Whilst maintaining his anthropocentric vision of geography, Le Lannou argued that any attempt to separate physical and human factors to explain the rural scene would be ‘singularly in vain’ (271). Tall earth banks, planted hedgerows and copses, sunken tracks and all-embracing shade were often mistaken as expressions of the natural world but were ‘clearly created by mankind [hence] rural dwellers in the province remained harshly imprisoned by their own works’ (271). In the middle years of the twentieth century, Brittany was still a ‘prodigiously isolated’ province of family farms where remnants of traditional handicrafts and fishing activity struggled to

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survive (197). Contrary to popular opinion, Brittany was not a land of sailors but was primarily ‘a country of land lovers’ (Bretagne est avant tout un pays de terriens) (Le Lannou 1952, 94). Efforts to open factories in the province since the 1930s confirmed that ‘it is the land that counts, and it is terribly difficult to affix the “industrial worker” label in Brittany’ (301). Not until the final section of his work did Le Lannou acknowledge the challenges facing Brittany and the opportunities offered by the establishment of a large industrial estate on the outskirts of Rennes in 1951. With surprising bravado, he declared: ‘The future’ is a word … that I consider essential. By grasping the distinctive dynamism of human organization, the geographer can – and must – open certain perspectives … I would have found little interest in studying Brittany by simply cataloguing facts and distinctive Breton features (bretonneries) but not identifying the advantage that our province may take from new conditions – and from likely future trends – in France, around the Atlantic, in Europe, and across the world. I have tried to emerge from the narrow role that academic routines assign to a Breton geographer [who] does not feel unfaithful to 46 years of Breton citizenship. (9–10)

Despite this heroic declaration, what followed was very different from the approach advocated in La Géographie humaine. Whilst acknowledging that there were many sub-regions (pays) in Brittany and that ‘names of pays are abundant’, Le Lannou made no attempt to define or map them (404). Even attempts by geographers to distinguish between a coastal fringe (Armor) and a hilly interior (Argoat) were dismissed, since ‘Bretons do not recognize that they have this meaning’ (405). Only two pays were given any attention by Le Lannou: his home area (le Trégorrois and Goello) about which he had written twenty years previously, and the coastal stretch of la Cornouaille where the introduction of cooperatives permitted innovations in farming, market gardening and fishing (Le Lannou 1931). This territory had been studied by Pierre Flatrès (1921–98) who had been a young researcher at the University of Rennes and assisted Le Lannou with the second volume of his Géographie de la Bretagne (Flatrès 1944, 1946). Drawing on another aspect of ongoing work by Flatrès, Le Lannou set the problems of Brittany into the wider context of the Atlantic ends of Europe (Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall and Galicia) (Flatrès 1957). He concluded

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that agricultural modernization and manufacturing offered considerable potential for creating new employment and reducing outmigration. At the time of writing, a start had been made on uprooting hedgerows, enlarging farms and introducing mechanization, but such activity occurred extremely slowly since agricultural education was poor. Le Lannou believed that ‘the great remedy in the immediate future will be cooperation, which has proved its worth in some areas’ of la Cornouaille (Le Lannou 1952, 446). To retreat from individualism would require the psychological foundations of rural Brittany to change, and if they did the way could be opened to improve housing and supply of electricity and drinking water. Establishment of factories to process farm goods and fish could offer further opportunities to improve living conditions. Le Lannou acknowledged that his final words were neither decisive nor revolutionary, since they formed the conclusion of a geographer who knows that some things hold firm and resist, but also that others collapse when one touches a crucial factor in the balance. Also, things can correct themselves provided there is a collective will and the right advice is given. The author of these words would like to contribute some enlightenment [in the hope that] a geographer can contribute to action by using the resources of his art, to make points that so-called men of action [politicians and planners] often do not take time to make. (454)

Despite these brave words and his bold declaration in La Géographie humaine, Maurice Le Lannou proved destined to be a scholar rather than a man of action. Reviewers of his Géographie de la Bretagne criticized certain points of detail relating to natural conditions and regretted that not more had been said more about tourism or urban life. Fellow Breton André Guilcher (1913–93) concluded that the author of this ‘very new and penetrating book’ avoided falling into romantic descriptions of the peninsula because of his depth of local knowledge (Guilcher 1950, 586) (Geographers 33). Aimé Perpillou (1902–76), who had taught at Brest prior to going to Paris, found the text ‘generally prudent and well informed’, and congratulated its author for not ‘sinking into pessimism, whilst guarding against lyrical optimism’ as he contemplated the future of the province (Perpillou 1954, 293) (Geographers 31). In appreciation of his two-volume work, in 1953 the Société de Géographie de Paris awarded Le Lannou the Prix Christian Garnier.

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Two years later Le Lannou brought out Le Brésil, which drew upon his earlier travels through the country and the contacts he made with local geographers as well as reflecting a thorough digest of publications by Brazilian and European geographers (Le Lannou 1955). After a brief introduction to the land, vegetation and highly diverse population of this vast country, the central half of the book was devoted to a discussion of seven mega-regions. A brief conclusion examined the uneven impact of economic modernization in Brazil and warned that industrialization and improved communications might not be sufficient to meet the challenge of overcoming disparities in space and society. With 220 pages and eleven maps, Le Lannou’s text was in direct competition with Pierre Monbeig’s little book on Brazil that appeared one year previously but contained only 128 pages (Monbeig 1954) (Geographers 32). Reviewers were largely enthusiastic about Le Lannou’s Brésil, with Louis Papy praising his ‘lively and colourful images, always full of truth’, and Paul Veyret encountering ‘an enlivening breeze from what he has seen’ (Papy 1955, 299; Veyret 1955, 856). André Gibert congratulated Le Lannou for ‘making readers love Brazil and love geography’, but Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier felt that he should have explained Portuguese terms more fully (BeaujeuGarnier 1956, 124; Gibert 1956, 80). By 1971 Le Brésil had reached its fifth edition and was soon replaced by Le Nouveau Brésil, written in collaboration with Brazilian colleague Nice Lecocq-Müller (1920–2008), that presented economic developments and the enduring challenges of social inequality (Le Lannou and Lecocq-Müller 1976).

Influence and spread of ideas The fluctuating ideas of Maurice Le Lannou were diffused in various ways during his career as schoolteacher, university professor, instructor at the Collège d’Europe, distinguished professor at the Collège de France and contributor to Le Monde – arguably the most ‘serious’ newspaper in France – for over thirty years. Whilst teaching at Brest and Rennes, he published articles aimed at schoolteachers and also organized professional meetings and fieldtrips (Le Lannou 1937a, 1937b, 1938, 1939, 1942). Later in life he was editor for the ‘Collection Le Lannou’ series of geography texts that were

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brought out by the Bordas publishing company. They met the requirements of successive stages in the secondary school curriculum and were written by teachers and university lecturers, several of whom were his former students (Bethemont in Daudel 2010, 35). At the University of Lyon he taught courses on France, the Mediterranean world and tropical regions, especially Brazil from which he derived his little book (Le Lannou 1955). A second textbook on the regions of France was designed to extend across two years of undergraduate study and presumably reflected his lectures at Lyon. Organized in two volumes, dealing with northern and southern France in turn, the book was unquestionably comprehensive but lacked a distinctive structure or a convincing methodology. Hence some sections dealt with either the physical or the economic geography of particular regions, while others adopted an holistic approach. First appearing in 1964, this encyclopaedic text was devoid of innovation and paled in comparison with the ambitions of La Géographie humaine and the criticisms of the teaching of geography raised by its author (Le Lannou 1964). Nonetheless, it must have satisfied the undergraduate market in France since it went through four editions, the last of which being assembled in 1974 with the help of Brigitte Prost (b. 1939), one of Le Lannou’s former students at Lyon (Prost 1993). Maurice Le Lannou’s second area of instruction embraced the Mediterranean world and was a source of inspiration for many of his students in Lyon. Surprisingly, he did not compose a textbook from the course and only a summary of his lectures appeared in cyclostyled form (Le Lannou 1959; Muscarà 1993). He began by characterizing the ‘original features’ of the Mediterranean through an exploration of natural conditions, historical changes, and the role of the sea. An analysis of the physiography of the main peninsulas was followed by a review of climate and vegetation that was used as a link to agricultural activities and the widespread occurrence of transhumance. The final section of the course focused on Italy, to where Le Lannou led a fieldtrip almost every year that he taught at Lyon. While he took his students to many regions, his preferences were for Sardinia and Sicily, and the French island of Corsica. During these trips he exposed his students and colleagues to different aspects of geography, but emphasized ‘historical commentaries on the landscapes’ that were being traversed (Sivignon in Calbérac 2010, 380; Le Lannou and Pelletier 1960).

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Through his teaching in the classroom and in the field, Le Lannou encouraged advanced students to undertake research on a Mediterranean region for a master’s or even a doctoral degree. As a result, many articles on Mediterranean topics appeared in the Revue de Géographie de Lyon during his editorship from 1962 to 1972 (Rochefort 1993, 240). Renée Rochefort (1924–2012) explained how her enthusiasm was kindled by the social diversity of Sicily, after rejecting other possible themes such as studying the historical geography of Ragusa (Dubrovnik) (Rochefort in Calbérac 2010, 330). However, she felt that the theme was too large to handle and tried to convince her patron that a sharper focus would be beneficial. His reply was: ‘No, no. I studied the whole of Sardinia’, and Rochefort felt compelled to obey his instruction (334). He never visited her in Sicily, indeed it was she who went to Plouha for several days of each long vacation to discuss her work. She sent progress reports to her professor but he never wrote back. Michel Sivignon (b. 1936), who worked on Thessaly in Greece, had an identical experience, being told to ‘bring the work to me when it is complete; place your manuscript on my table and tell me you have finished’ (pers. comm. Sivignon, 2008; Sivignon in Daudel 2010, 12). The distance in these relationships surely reflected Le Lannou’s lack of personal supervision by Demangeon, as much as his belief that a doctorate should be entirely the candidate’s own work. Despite his leaving his prize students to their own devices, state doctorates on the physical geography of Sardinia and the social geography of Sicily were defended when Le Lannou was in post at Lyon, and others on Thessaly, Friuli and Corsica were completed after he moved to the Collège de France in 1969 (Pelletier 1960; Prost 1973; Renucci 1975; Rochefort 1961; Sivignon 1975). From 1950 to 1963 Le Lannou gave lectures at the Collège d’Europe in Bruges, but the content of his course is not known in detail. A review article entitled ‘Europe seen from Bruges’ suggests that it embraced historical geography, the formation of nation states and the economic geography of the continent (Le Lannou 1967a, 89–105). Between 1969 and 1976 he occupied the chair of European geography at the Collège de France giving lectures that were designed for the general public, rather than for undergraduates. His presentations varied each year, covering such themes as the identity of Europe through time, Europe and the sea, Italy, Mediterranean islands, the ‘Atlantic ends’ of Europe including Brittany, European rivers and inland navigation,

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and the relative decline of Europe in world affairs (Commerçon 1993, 243). Soon after his retirement from the Collège de France, he published Europe, terre promise, whose twenty-one chapters covered many of these topics as well as pressing problems such as energy, migrant workers, unemployment and the conflict between modern and traditional societies (Le Lannou 1977a). In that book he drew repeated attention to the economic ‘conquest’ of Europe by the USA, stressing the past cultural contributions of Europe to other parts of the world and expressing his wish that this relationship might continue in the realms of education and science. Reflecting its character as a general rather than an academic work, Europe, terre promise had no references, illustrations or statistical information (Bethemont 1977, 313). An Italian translation appeared with a minimum of delay (Le Lannou 1979c). Between February 1956 and April 1989, the name Maurice Le Lannou and the discipline of geography became familiar to readers of Le Monde through 202 articles that appeared in his ‘geographical chronicle’ (Anon. 1993). Many of these wide-ranging essays were prompted by his travels or by new books or articles in geographical periodicals, but the articles were much more than book reviews. They exemplified the author’s respect for tradition and history, his concern for accuracy and precision and his alarm at the pace of modernity and new technology. Here was Le Lannou the demanding scholar at work, demonstrating his love of classical languages and rules of literary composition, and his rejection of numeracy and any faith placed in ‘experts’ to resolve complex problems. He was particularly sceptical about spatial planning (l’aménagement du territoire) and re-published a selection of his newspaper articles under the provocative title of Le déménagement du territoire: rêveries d’un géographe (Shifting territory: daydreams of geographer) (Le Lannou 1967a). This book amply confirms that his apparent enthusiasm for innovation, displayed in the third section of La Géographie humaine, was no more than a passing phase. He explained to readers of Le déménagement that he was ‘an unremitting nostalgic … who would not allow himself to be caught up in the great rush of progress without a sense of bitterness. [Readers] know that I do not like motorways or television, that I consider our civilisation to be decadent … and that I see little good in leisure’ (7; Le Lannou 1969). Defending his favoured notion of ‘man-the-inhabitant’, Le Lannou argued that there was more to life than simply consuming scarce resources. Indeed,

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he feared the growing acceptance of technological reasoning that ‘understood the resistance of materials better than the resistance of people and groups of mankind’ (8). In his essays he lamented that many supposedly educated people lacked genuine interest in the world about them and seemed to be satisfied with misinformation that they passed on to others. He told readers about many of the places that he visited, including Sardinia, Corsica and Brittany, lamenting the destruction of historic landscapes and the intrusion of mass tourism and manufacturing in the resolute name of progress. Exemplifying his long-standing interest in maritime affairs, he anticipated the might of the container ship as a vessel for energizing some parts of the global economy, whilst serving to destroy others, and he repeatedly condemned ‘the monstrous automobile that stifled civilised life’ (181). He insisted that spatial planning was ‘not a science’ and that practitioners needed to be familiar with ‘stories of real life’ (histoires vécues) and with many so-called improvement schemes that either failed or caused disastrous results (181). Finally, he condemned school geography in France as being ‘an off-putting, cumulative discipline’ whose almost limitless reach was rendered all the drier and more unacceptable by a ‘mass of premature abstractions’ (233). Some readers of Le Monde may well have shared his views, but many geography teachers and planners resented the nostalgic, critical tone adopted by this influential columnist who seemed to belittle their discipline, and their efforts. However, this complicated, cultured and paradoxical man was not entirely hostile to the practice of geography in France. Of course, his personal preference was for the traditional relationship with history, and he felt that ‘the opportune separation’ that began in the 1940s had become ‘a regrettable divorce’ (Le Lannou 1961, 812). He recounted how a degree in geography tended to be viewed with suspicion in France as an entrance qualification to elite institutions in the worlds of administration, diplomacy and finance, unlike the relatively favourable reception of candidates with qualifications in history (with ancillary geography). He felt that academic geography in France had missed the opportunity of absorbing new ideas from economics and political science advocated by ‘marginal’ scholars, such as André Siegfried (1875–1959) and Jean Gottmann, who did not hold posts in state universities (Le Lannou 1977b) (Geographers 30). Despite French geography’s tendency to be inward looking, so that it ‘was nourished almost exclusively from itself ’,

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some aspects of the discipline were ‘rich in hidden treasures’ that deserved to be communicated not only to social scientists but also to the wider world (Le Lannou 1961, 818). Unfortunately, he alleged, most geographers seemed satisfied to write for themselves and their students, used technical, impenetrable terminology and simply failed to engage with the general public. Rather than seeing some of them using their skills as ‘applied geographers’, working for municipalities or commercial organizations, his preference was for ‘the whole of geography [to be] better used for educating our citizens and for training its leaders’ (818). Maurice Le Lannou’s two final books, written in his productive retirement, returned to Breton themes. In La Bretagne et les Bretons he offered a brief synopsis of the history of the province and a perceptive analysis of ‘the time of anger’ that became particularly pronounced in the province after 1960 (Le Lannou 1978, 57). As he had anticipated three decades earlier, impoverished, backward, isolated Brittany was poised for change at mid-century. He and a team of geographers from Lyon had investigated the detail of one small area in the far west of the peninsula, but their results were less well known than those written up by Edgar Morin, a sociologist, or by André Burguière, a historian, for a general readership (Le Lannou 1967b; Burguière 1975; Morin 1967). Subsequent popular revolts in Brittany ‘went hand in hand with considerable changes in farming conditions, and doubtless with their continuation since the first demonstrations were not by the most backward farmers but by those whose lives had started to improve’ (Le Lannou 1978, 57). Widespread rejection of the seemingly inescapable legacy of poverty gave rise to ‘two very different, and often contradictory, categories of demonstrator: one involving a tiny, secret minority, composed of hard cores that did not reject violent action, and the other embracing a much larger, peaceful group that was visible across France and sought to rediscover the community of Brittany’ (61). These ‘hard cores’ comprised the Front de Libération de la Bretagne and its sympathizers. Regardless of whether it was ‘violent or cultural, clandestine or public, the revolt took place paradoxically in a pays long recognized as archaic but that was undergoing renewal’ through the operation of cooperatives, agricultural modernization, tourism, manufacturing and urban growth (65). Reviewers praised Le Lannou’s intimate knowledge of the subject and his ability to maintain an independent position on contentious issues (Veyret 1979, 245). For his last book, he wrote

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about the town of Saint-Brieuc where he spent his teenage years (Le Lannou 1986). His friend Pierre George praised Le Lannou’s detailed grasp of the history of this ancient ‘granite town’ and shared his concern about the nature of recent developments in its surroundings (George 1987, 760).

Conclusion Spanning almost five decades, most of the work of Maurice Le Lannou on Sardinia, Brittany, Europe, Brazil and geographical methodology has fallen into the lengthening shadows of the recent history of French geography. His sustained espousal of ‘man-the-inhabitant’, at the moment when academic geography was striving to forge an identity distinct from history, had the virtue of evoking the depth of human existence through time and implied a tight relationship between people and specific stretches of land that was more appropriate to the age of family farming that he experienced in his youth than to the time of increasing mobility and urbanization and of decreasing sense of place that assaulted him in his old age (Buttimer 1971, 139; Meynier 1969, 152; Sivignon 1993; Tanca 2014). In the words of Paul Claval (b. 1932), as French geographers strove to rethink the theory and practice of their discipline to confront new challenges in the second half of the twentieth century, ‘the idea of man-the-inhabitant was not very useful’ (Claval 1998, 268). Le Lannou’s defence of the unity of geography, his allegiance to historical geography and his repeated assertion that regional study was the pinnacle of geographical achievement appeared reactionary and seriously out of tune with young geographers whose new approaches were rejuvenating but also fragmenting the discipline (Grataloup and Lévy 1976; Lazzarotti 2006, 177). Without doubt, Le Lannou’s thoughtful critique of French geography in the 1940s that appeared in La Géographie humaine contained much that was of interest, and ‘served as a call to order for those who had forgotten that there would not be any geography without people’ (George 1993a, 67; 1993b). Similarly, his assessment that French geographers failed to communicate beyond their own discipline contained much good sense, but his visionary moments were not translated into his own work that continued to cling to regional and historical approaches. Many of his essays in Le Monde were critical of French geography

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rather than being supportive. In short, Maurice Le Lannou was something of a paradox. As historian Maurice Agulhon (1926–2014) remarked, ‘he wished to be neither a prophet nor a militant. He was a savant, but he did little to hide the fact that he was a troubled man’ and was anxious about the state of the world and the condition of his academic discipline (Agulhon 1992). At heart, Maurice Le Lannou was a nostalgic who held firm to the dual instruction in history and geography that he had received at the ENS and the Sorbonne c. 1930. As time passed, his position was recognized as increasingly at odds with an ever-growing number of scholars in France, and he became rather marginalized from the corporation of academic geographers. Much of his work was regarded as a kind of swan song for Vidalian geography (Daudel 2010, 331). By contrast, Pastori e contadini continues to enjoy popularity in Sardinia and is still readily available in the island’s bookshops almost eighty years after the original thesis was published. It bears testimony to his commitment to placing people at the centre of geographical research that he believed was best exemplified by regional study and historical geography.

Acknowledgements I recall with gratitude the recommendation from the late Hugh Prince that I should investigate the career of this enigmatic geographer. I express my thanks to Ian Thompson for his critical reading of a draft of this essay, and to Nicole Commerçon, Brigitte Prost and Michel Sivignon. The late Michel Laferrère and Jacques Bethemont offered informative comments about Professor Le Lannou at Lyon.

Bibliography and sources 1. References on Maurice Le Lannou and his intellectual milieu Agulhon, M. (1992), ‘Maurice Le Lannou, 1906–1992’, https://www.college-de-france. fr/site/anciennes-chaires/maurice_le_lannou.htm. Anon. (1952), Cinquantième anniversaire du laboratoire de géographie, 1902–1952. Rennes: University of Rennes.

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Anon. (1993), ‘Bibliographie de Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 249–56. Baker, A. R. H. (2003), Geography and History: Bridging the Divide. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bethemont, J. and Commerçon, N. (1993), ‘Introduction à l’œuvre de Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 209–11. Blanchard, R. (1914), ‘Les genres de vie en Corse et leur évolution’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 2, 187–238. Blanchard, R. (1927), La Corse. Grenoble: Arthaud. Brigaglia, M. (2006), ‘L’eccezionale viaggio di Maurice Le Lannou tra i segreti dell’isola’, La Nuova Sardegna 16 December. Burguière, A. (1975), Bretons de Plozévet. Paris: Flammarion. Buttimer, A. (1971), History and Milieu in the French Geographic Tradition. Chicago: Rand McNally. Calbérac, Y. (2010), ‘Terrains de géographes, géographes de terrain’. Doctoral thesis in geography, Université Lumière Lyon 2, 2 vols. Claval, P. (1998), Histoire de la géographie française de 1870 à nos jours. Paris: Nathan. Commerçon, N. (1993), ‘L’Europe dans l’œuvre de Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 243–8. Daudel, C. (2010), Jacques Bethemont: géographe des fleuves. Paris: L’Harmattan. Demangeon, A. (1942), Problèmes de géographie humaine. Paris: Armand Colin. Flatrès, P. (1944), ‘Le pays nord-bigouden’, Annales de Bretagne 51, 158–205. Flatrès, P. (1946), ‘Le pays nord-bigouden’, Annales de Géographie 55, 139–41. Flatrès, P. (1957), Géographie agraire de quatre contrées celtiques. Rennes: Plihon. Flatrès, P. and H. (1993), ‘Maurice Le Lannou et la Bretagne’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 219–22. George, P. (1993a), ‘Maurice Le Lannou, 1906–1992’, Annales de Géographie 102, 68–9. George, P. (1993b), ‘Crépuscule de l’homme habitant?’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 213–4. Gottmann, J. (1947), ‘De la méthode d’analyse en géographie humaine’, Annales de Géographie 56, 1–12. Grataloup, C. and Lévy, J. (1976), ‘Des géographes pour une autre géographie’, Le Monde 14–15 March. Lazzarotti, O. (2006), Habiter: la condition géographique. Paris: Belin. Meynier, A. (1969), Histoire de la pensée géographique en France. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Monbeig, P. (1954), Le Brésil. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Morin, E. (1967), Commune en France: La métamorphose de Plodémet. Paris: Fayard.

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Muscarà, C. (1993), ‘Maurice Le Lannou et l’Italie’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 231–8. Pelletier, J. (1960), Le Relief de la Sardaigne. Lyon: Institut des Etudes Rhodaniennes. Pocquet du Haute-Jussé, B.A. (1942), ‘Leçon d’ouverture de la chaire d’histoire de la Bretagne à la Faculté des Lettres de l’Université de Rennes’, Annales de Bretagne 49, 133–44. Prost, B. (1973), Le Frioul: région d’affrontements. Gap: Ophrys. Prost, B. (1993), ‘Les régions géographiques de la France vues par Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 223–9. Renucci, J. (1975), Corse traditionnelle et Corse nouvelle. Lyon: Institut des Etudes Rhodaniennes. Robert-Muller, C. (1944), Pêches et pêcheurs de la Bretagne atlantique. Paris: Armand Colin. Rochefort, R. (1961), Le Travail en Sicile. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Rochefort, R. (1993), ‘La Méditerranée de Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 239–42. Sermet, J. (1957), ‘Les géographes français et l’Europe’, in G. Chabot, R. Clozier and J. Beaujeu-Garnier (eds), La Géographie française au milieu du XXe siècle. Paris: Baillière, 197–210. Sivignon, M. (1975), La Thessalie: analyse géographique d’une province grecque. Lyon: Institut des Etudes Rhodaniennes. Sivignon, M. (1993), ‘Du verbe habiter et son amère actualité’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 215–7. Tanca, M. (2014), ‘Uomini–abitanti: Sardi e Bretone in Maurice Le Lannou’, in M. Tanca (ed.), Un lungo viaggio nella geografia umana della Sardegna: Studi in onore di Antonio Loi. Bologna: Pàtron, 143–57.

2. Selected reviews of works by Maurice Le Lannou Anon. (1980), ‘Pastori e contadini di Sardegna’, Rivista di Storia Contemporanea 9, 309–10. Baldacci, O. (1949), ‘Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne’, Bollettino della Società Geografica Italiana 8(2), 47–8. Beaujeu-Garnier, J. (1949), ‘La Géographie humaine, d’après Maurice Le Lannou’, L’Information Géographique 13, 185–7. Beaujeu-Garnier, J. (1956), ‘Le Brésil’, L’Information Géographique 20, 124. Bethemont, J. (1977), ‘Europe, terre promise’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 52, 313. Blanchard, R. (1942), ‘Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 30, 627–34.

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Braudel, F. (1951), ‘La géographie face aux sciences sociales’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 6, 485–92. Fougères, M. [M. Bloch] (1943), ‘Un cas d’histoire agraire: la Sardaigne’, Mélanges d’Histoire Sociale 3, 94–7. George, P. (1950), ‘Réflexions sur la géographie humaine’, Annales de Géographie 59, 214–8. George, P. (1987), ‘Saint-Brieuc’, Annales de Géographie 96, 760. Gibert, A. (1956), ‘Le Brésil’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 31, 79–80. Guilcher, A. (1950), ‘Géographie de la Bretagne’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 38, 584–6. Marrou, H.-I. (1943), ‘Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne’, Etudes Rhodaniennes 18, 121–5. Meynier, A. (1938), ‘Itinéraires de Bretagne’, Annales de Bretagne 45, 382–5. Papy, L. (1955), ‘Le Brésil’, Cahiers d’Outre-Mer 31, 299. Perpillou, A. (1954), ‘Une géographie de la Bretagne’, Annales de Géographie 63, 293–6. Veyret, P. (1955), ‘Le Brésil’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 43, 856. Veyret, P. (1979), ‘La Bretagne et les Bretons’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 67, 245–6.

3. Selected works by Maurice Le Lannou 1931 ‘Le Trégorrois; étude de géographie agricole’, Annales de Géographie 40, 24–38. 1936a ‘Le relief de la Sardaigne’, Annales de Géographie 45, 425–30. 1936b ‘Le rôle géographique de la malaria’, Annales de Géographie 45, 113–35. 1937a ‘Un village trégorrois: Tréverec’, L’Information Géographique 2, 127–9. 1937b ‘Le groupe breton’, L’Information Géographique 2, 239. 1938 ‘Une excursion en Trégorrois’, L’Information Géographique 3, 19–22. 1938 Itinéraires de Bretagne. Paris: Baillière. 1939 ‘Avec les élèves de 13 à 17 ans: L’habitat rural’, L’Information Géographique 4, 45–7. 1941a Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne. Tours: Arrault. (Reprint 1971, Cagliari: La Zattera.) 1941b ‘La Sardaigne’, L’Information Géographique 5, 67–75. 1942 ‘Réflexions d’un examinateur’, L’Information Géographique 6, 39–40. 1947 ‘La Vénetie Julienne: étude de géographie politique’, Annales de Géographie 56, 13–35. 1948a ‘La structure nationale du Brésil’, Etudes Rhodaniennes 23, 159–67. 1948b ‘La vocation actuelle de la géographie humaine’, Etudes Rhodaniennes 23, 272–80.

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1949a La Géographie humaine. Paris: Flammarion. (Japanese translation 1952). 1949b ‘Le relief de la Bretagne méridionale de la Baie de Douarnenez à la Vilaine’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 24, 82–5. 1950–2 Géographie de la Bretagne, 2 vols. Rennes: Plihon. 1951 ‘Sardaigne, 1950’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 26, 113–29. 1955 Le Brésil. Paris: Armand Colin. (5th edition 1971.) (Portuguese translation 1957, Spanish translation 1965.) 1959 Les Problèmes géographiques de la Méditerranée européenne. Paris: Centre de Documentation Universitaire. 1960 (with J. Pelletier) ‘La XLIIe excursion géographique interuniversitaire. Vieille et nouvelle Sardaigne’, Annales de Géographie 69, 561–83. 1961 ‘La géographie est-elle une science politique?’, Revue Française de Science Politique 11, 809–18. 1962 ‘Fidelité et devenir’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 37, 1–4. 1964 Les Régions géographiques de la France, 2 vols. Paris: Société des Editions d’Enseignement Supérieur. (4th edition 1974, with collaboration of B. Prost.) 1966 ‘L’isthme du Proche et Moyen Orient’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 41, 289–302. 1967a Le Déménagement du territoire: Rêveries d’un géographe. Paris: Le Seuil. 1967b ‘Une enquête multidisciplinaire de sciences humaines en Finistère’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 42, 122–304. 1969 ‘La ville-désert’, in J. Onimus (ed.), L’Homme et la ville dans le monde actuel. Paris: Centre d’études de la civilisation contemporaine, 173–87. 1976 ‘Des géographes contre la géographie’, Le Monde 8–9 February. 1976 (with N. Lecocq-Müller) Le Nouveau Brésil. Paris: Armand Colin. 1977a Europe, terre promise. Paris: Le Seuil. 1977b ‘André Siegfried et la géographie politique’, in J. B. Duroselle, L’Oeuvre scientifique d’André Siegfried. Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale des Science Politiques, 15–23. 1978 La Bretagne et les Bretons. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. (2nd edition 1983). 1979a Un bleu de Bretagne: Souvenirs d’un fils d’instituteur de la IIIe République. Paris: Hachette. 1979b Pastori e contadini di Sardegna (trans. M. Brigaglia). Cagliari: Editione Della Torre. (4th edition 2006.) 1979c Europa, terra promessa. Bergamo: Minerva Italica. 1983 ‘André Meynier, 1901–1983’, Annales de Géographie 92, 700–4. 1986 Saint-Brieuc. Paris: Champ Vallon.

Geographers

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Chronology 1906

Born 8 May, at Plouha (Côtes-d’Armor)

1917–24

Secondary education, Lycée de Saint-Brieuc

1924–8

Completes secondary education, Lycée Louis-le-Grand, Paris

1928–31

Higher education at the Ecole Normale Supérieure and the Sorbonne

1931

Succeeds in agrégation d’histoire et géographie examination; made first visit to Sardinia

1932

Undertakes military service

1933

Appointed to teach at lycée in Brest (Finistère)

1934

Married Adrienne Tréhiou; undertook research in Sardinia

1935–7

Leave of absence for research in Sardinia, funded by Rockefeller Foundation

1937

Returns to teach in Brest

1938

Publication of Itinéraires de Bretagne

1940

Relocates to teach at lycée in Rennes

1941

Publication of Pâtres et paysans de la Sardaigne; appointed to teach economic

1942

Passes examination for doctorat-ès-lettres

1945

Appointed senior lecturer at University of Rennes

1945–6

Gathers evidence for the commission to delimit the frontier between Italy and

geography of Brittany at the University of Rennes

Yugoslavia 1947

Visits Brazil, Escola Livre de Sociologia e Politica, São Paulo; appointed professor of regional geography at the University of Lyon

1949

Publication of La Géographie humaine

1950–2

Publication of Géographie de la Bretagne, 2 vols

1950–63

Teaches at the Collège d’Europe in Bruges and serves as member of Council

1954

Made Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur

1955

Publication of Le Brésil

1960–9

Director of the Institut des Etudes Rhodaniennes

1960–72

Director of the Institut de Géographie du Proche et Moyen Orient, Beirut

1962–72

Editor of Revue de Géographie de Lyon

1964

Publication of Les Régions géographiques de la France, 2 vols

1967

Publication of Le Déménagement du territoire

1968

Awarded honorary doctorate by University of Sassari, Sardinia

1969

Elected to the Collège de France, chair of the geography of Europe

1975

Elected member of the Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques

1976

Publication of Le Nouveau Brésil

1977

Publication of Europe, terre promise

Maurice Le Lannou (1906–92) 1978

Publication of La Bretagne et les Bretons

1979

Publication of Un Bleu de Bretagne

1985

Made Commandeur of the Légion d’Honneur

1986

Publication of Saint-Brieuc

1987

Suffers a stroke with consequent paralysis

1992

Died 2 July at Plouha

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5

Renée Rochefort (1924–2012) Hugh Clout

Trained as a historian and geographer, Renée Rochefort was a pioneer social geographer in France. Drawing on countless conversations and interviews, her doctoral thesis examined work, unemployment and underemployment in Sicily during the 1950s. She was only the third female geographer to receive a state doctorate in France and was duly appointed the third woman professor of geography in a French university. Appointed to a personal chair in human geography at the University of Lyon in 1962, she remained there until retirement in 1990. Renée Rochefort delivered a manifesto for social geography in 1963 that was resisted by some members of the geographical establishment who strove to defend the unity of their subject and were suspicious of any subdisciplinary fragmentation. Few of the publications by Renée Rochefort were placed in prominent journals and she did not write a textbook to spread her views more widely. Her vision was overtaken by several different expressions of social geography emanating from scholars based in other universities in France.

Education, life and work Renée Rochefort was born in Lyon on 20 November 1924, the daughter of a chemist who worked for Descollonges, one of the city’s perfume manufacturers (pers. comm. Marc Bonneville, 1 Dec 2018). After success in primary education, she was enrolled at the high school for girls (Lycée Edouard Herriot), where she excelled in her studies, achieving particular success in history, geography and modern languages. One of her teachers, a

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certain Madame Zuber, was very impressed by her results and encouraged her to study for a degree at the local university. Rochefort chose to focus on history, which included a component on geography that she found especially appealing (Renucci 2012, 6). Among her instructors were geographers André Allix (1889–1966) and André Gibert (1893–1985) (Bethemont 1996; Gibert 1966; Lebeau 1967, 1988). In 1944, Allix was elevated to the position of rector with administrative responsibility for all aspects of state education in the académie (academic region) of Lyon. Until a new professor was appointed, his teaching was covered by René Lebeau (1914–99), recently returned from a prisoner of war camp in east Prussia (Houssel 1999). Rochefort passed her first degree with flying colours and proceeded to study for a diplôme d’études supérieures (equivalent to a master’s degree by research). Fascinated by the socio-economic interaction of town and country, she chose to examine the distribution of rural properties owned by Lyonnais bourgeois families during the fifteenth century (Calbérac 2012, 283). Rochefort’s history professors and the newly arrived head of geography, Maurice Le Lannou (1906–92), advised her to prepare for the very demanding agrégation qualification that allowed successful candidates to teach advanced classes in state high schools (lycées) or to lecture at a French university (Geographers 39). In 1949, Rochefort was ranked top in the national examination (agrégation feminine) for women teachers of history with geography. Her first post was at the lycée for girls in the city of Grenoble, but after a year she moved to the Lycée Saint-Just, another high school for girls, sited on a hillslope overlooking the inner city of Lyon. She found that teaching position very much to her liking and remained there until 1957. Le Lannou appreciated the academic potential and pedagogic qualities of this young woman and encouraged her to undertake research for a major state doctorate (doctorat d’Etat). Having studied both history and geography, Rochefort was unsure which path to follow and was recommended to seek the advice of historian Fernand Braudel (1902–85), a rapidly rising star among French historians (see Geographers 22). He intimated that the city-state of Dubrovnik (Ragusa), with its rich collection of commercial archives in Italian, would make a fine topic for a doctoral thesis in history. Le Lannou advised otherwise and Rochefort followed his advice to select a Mediterranean island as the focus for her research, though she did later publish an article about

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Dubrovnik (Rochefort 1961a; 1993). Le Lannou’s own thesis had examined rural life on Sardinia and he pointed out that Sicily was available for rigorous examination (Le Lannou 1941). Regional autonomy, land reform, oil drilling and the work of the Cassa per il Mezzogiorno to counter under-development made it a particularly interesting study area (Fiume 2006, 38; Rochefort 1959a). After dismissing the idea of working on the Cyclades, Rochefort followed Le Lannou’s suggestion and started to devour published material on Sicily (Rochefort 1954). She was unsure of the shape that her thesis might assume, in particular whether she should concentrate on a particular region or on the whole of the island, and what the most appropriate systematic emphasis should be. Physical geography holding no particular attraction for her, she pressed the case for a thesis in human geography, rather than a holistic study embracing physical and human components. Le Lannou insisted that she examine the whole of Sicily, just as he had studied the whole of Sardinia, and argued the case for adopting a socio-economic approach rather than a sharper focus on social characteristics that Rochefort advocated. Since she was unmarried and still lived with her parents in their apartment on the Cours Tolstoï in the suburb of Villeurbanne, Rochefort was able to save enough from her teacher’s salary to meet her travel costs and living expenses in Sicily each summer (Calbérac 2012, 284). During every long vacation from 1950 to 1957 she gathered statistical information and conducted field enquiries relating to the theme of work and unemployment in Sicilian life. Having set Rochefort on the route of doctoral investigation, Le Lannou did not ask about her progress and never responded to letters in which she presented her interim findings. Indeed, she had to visit his summer residence in Brittany to explain how her work was going. Renée was not unique in receiving such treatment. Le Lannou’s other doctoral students were left entirely to their own devices, just as he himself had been. After publishing her first articles about Sicily, which dealt with land ownership and land reform on the island, Rochefort obtained funding in 1957 from the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), following recommendation from rector Allix (Rochefort 1956, 1957). This enabled her to give up school teaching and devote the next two years to assembling her thesis. To accomplish this, her time was divided between further fieldwork in Sicily and broadening her academic horizons in Paris. Rochefort benefited

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from renewed contact with Braudel and from advice from geographer Pierre George (1909–2006, see Geographers 29) who had published a small book on social geography a decade previously (Deshaies 2008; George 1945) (Geographers 29). She attended seminars on spatial economics led by François Perroux (1903–87), on the sociology of work headed by Georges Friedmann (1902–77) and on agronomy and rural life led by René Dumont (1904–2001). Social historian Ernest Labrousse (1895–1988) also helped her refine her methodology (Rochefort 1984a, 158). On Sicily, local information was obtained from academics at the universities of Catania, Messina and Palermo; conversations with geographer Lucio Cambio (1920–2006) proved particularly useful. In June 1960, Rochefort completed both her major thesis and her secondary dissertation that examined the region around Kotor on the eastern shore of the Adriatic (Rochefort 1961b). The following year she defended all her work before a jury comprising geographers Le Lannou, Lebeau, Michel Laferrère (1924–2017) and Jean Pelletier (1926–2020), historian Braudel and sociologist Friedmann. After prolonged discussion they expressed satisfaction with ‘Travail et travailleurs en Sicile’ – the original title of her main thesis – but concern that her minor dissertation did not demonstrate competence across the full range of geography (Bethemont 2014, 302; Calbérac 2012, 284). Having admitted that she had little interest in physical geography and declared that she would be happy to continue teaching history and geography in secondary schools for the rest of her career, Rochefort survived this inquisition and was awarded her state doctorate. Following Jacqueline Beaujeu-Garnier (1917–95) and Germaine Veyret-Verner (1913–73), who both obtained their doctorates in 1948, she was the third female geographer in France to achieve that distinction (Ginsburger 2017) (Geographers 28 and 37). Soon afterwards, Le Lannou indicated that a teaching post had become available at the University of Strasbourg after Michel Rochefort (1927–2015) (no relation) was seconded to Brazil. Renée Rochefort took advantage of this opportunity to work with the professor at Strasbourg, Etienne Juillard (1914– 2006), who had incorporated the term ‘social geography’ in the title of his own doctoral thesis (Juillard 1953). With connections across north-eastern France, he was able to facilitate Rochefort’s research on the lives of immigrant Italian miners and their families on the rapidly developing coalfield of north-eastern

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Lorraine (Rochefort 1963a). At this time, it seemed that the chair of geography at the University of Algiers was about to become vacant and Pierre George advised Rochefort to consider making an application. A more attractive proposition presented itself at home in the form of a personal chair at the University of Lyon. Rochefort occupied that post until she retired in 1990, but her relations with head of department Le Lannou were not always cordial. In the words of colleague Michel Sivignon (b. 1936): ‘She did not play a central role in Lyonnais geography. She was set aside for several reasons. She was alone in promoting social geography. As a teacher, she was not as brilliant as Maurice Le Lannou, who had a central place and was frequently making jokes about her’ (pers. comm. M. Sivignon, 1 Dec 2018). André Vant (b. 1941) recalled that her lectures were not particularly well organized, were crammed with details and lacked conclusions. Sometimes she would use a subsequent session to raise points that she had forgotten (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). At the time of student and popular unrest in 1968, there was ‘a clash between her and Le Lannou for political reasons [and] this deep rupture lasted’ (pers comm. M. Sivignon, 1 Dec 2018). Rochefort was attentive to the students and listened to their arguments. Her sympathetic approach put her on the wrong side of Le Lannou who, with misogynist scorn, branded her ‘the red virgin’ (vièrge rouge). In fact her views on society were more ‘pink’ than ‘red’, being influenced by Catholic philosopher Emmanuel Mounier (1905–50), founder of the journal Esprit, who advocated personal responsibility to improve society (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). After the traumatic events of 1968, the old University of Lyon fragmented into several parts: Rochefort joined a group of ‘less traditional’ colleagues at the new Université de Lyon II, while others belonged to a second department of geography at the Université de Lyon III. In 1969 Le Lannou moved from Lyon to a prestigious chair of European geography at the Collège de France in Paris. Only three of his Lyonnais colleagues – two of them women – attended his inaugural lecture in the capital: Renée Rochefort, Jeannine Renucci (b. 1929) and André Vant (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). Professor Rochefort taught widely across the field of human geography with an emphasis on population and the Mediterranean world, and with special attention being paid to social geography, Italy and the urban problems of greater Lyon – though surprisingly she did not contribute to La région

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lyonnaise edited by René Lebeau (1976). Always committed to her students and the well-being of her institution, she coached candidates for the gruelling agrégation examination. She was dean of the Faculty of History, Geography and Tourism for only a short time, since administration did not really interest her (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). She is remembered for talking at length at academic meetings but suddenly stopping mid-sentence, declaring ‘et basta’ (that’s enough); she wanted colleagues to think about her argument but without offering a final opinion (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). In 1972 Rochefort set up the Centre de Recherches sur l’Environnement Géographique et Social (CREGS) that served as a focus for advanced students preparing master’s degrees or doctorates. It produced seven occasional publications during the following decade. In 1982 she hosted the first national colloquium on social geography at Lyon (Rochefort 1983). After retirement in 1990 Rochefort travelled widely around the Mediterranean (from Spain to Cyprus and, of course, in Italy), and visited parts of the Arab world (Morocco, Egypt and the Middle East), North America, the Caribbean (Mexico and Cuba) and the Far East (China, Japan and Indonesia). In 1994, she made a roundthe-globe trip that took her to Tahiti, New Caledonia and even the Wallis and Futuna Islands. With increasing age, she moved out of her apartment overlooking the city of Lyon and entered a retirement home in Villeurbanne where she spent the last three years of her life. Professor Renée Rochefort died on 23 August 2012, never having married and being without children. In respect for her wishes, her funeral was a very private affair and her ashes were buried alongside those of her parents at the old cemetery of La Guillotière in Lyon (Joly 2013, 91; Renucci 2012, 6).

Work in Sicily and the scope of social geography In Le travail en Sicile Renée Rochefort characterized social geography as that part of the discipline dealing with ‘interpersonal relations’, whereby ‘people are of primary interest and space comes only thereafter, unlike economic geography that is concerned with the production and accumulation of wealth’ (Rochefort 1961c, 3). The obvious similarity with spatial aspects of sociology did not worry her, since she ‘believed in overlaps and interferences between

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neighbouring disciplines, which I consider to be a good thing rather than a bad one … I am attracted to these marginal zones that act as “hinges” between different scientific domains’ (3). She insisted that work, unemployment and partial employment represent one of these marginal zones that must be of fundamental concern to geographers ‘if geography wishes to be a dynamic science’ (2). Conversing with all kinds of Sicilians was the central element to her research methodology. Social activist Danilo Dolci (1924–97) explained: ‘From village to village and from town to town she listened to peasants, employees, manual workers, mayors, trades union officials, representatives of political parties, all kinds of people in their hundreds, perhaps even in their thousands’ (Dolci 1961, iii). She travelled on trains and buses from place to place and used such experiences to assemble her information, finding that ‘once the wall of mistrust has been crossed, Sicilians are able to present themselves and those around them in eloquent and subtle ways’ (Rochefort 1961c, 6). Sometimes she carried a camera and asked people, especially women, if they minded having their picture taken, since this was an ideal way of striking up a conversation. Strangely, the photographs included in the published version of her thesis were supplied by a friend and were not from her own camera (Calbérac 2012, 288). In order not to stand out as a tourist or outsider, she dressed in the style favoured by Sicilian women of her age. Nonetheless, fellow travellers assumed from her accent and unfamiliarity with local dialect that she was ‘a United Nations expert, a new schoolteacher, an emissary from Moscow, a seller of bars of soap, an American poet, or an adventurer’ (Rochefort 1961c, 5). After amassing her evidence, Rochefort needed to ‘interpret these stories and documents in the light of knowledge acquired, and to compare this real life evidence with work conditions described by workers elsewhere’ (Rochefort 1961c, 6). Her initial assumption that Sicily would be easily accessible intellectually, as it was part of Europe and reached easily from France, had to be dismissed. She confessed: ‘I was wrong, but I did not realize it until later’ (2). Her empathetic approach proved effective since when she presented her impressions to an audience of Sicilians, ranging from peasants to directors of high schools … they expressed the joy of learning about themselves, a joy that reflected truths that had been researched

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rigorously and expressed with love. This sentiment was mixed with a certain astonishment that they were learning something about themselves from such a young person whose accent and demeanour revealed that she had not grown up here [on Sicily]. (Dolci 1961, iii)

Renée Rochefort organized her thesis in three sections that explored what she termed ‘the problem of determinisms’, work in the countryside and non-rural activities. The first, rather surprisingly entitled section embraced not only climate, relief, soil and vegetation, but also ‘constraints that people impose on others, according to their level of technical mastery, their ways of making and distributing wealth, and their demographic characteristics’ (Rochefort 1961c, 11). Along with accounts of terrible winters and stormy seas, and of river beds that were dry in summer and contained torrents in winter, she traced how the island had been governed in the past by a succession of outside powers whose presence, or at least influence, shaped the pattern of land ownership and settlement. One consequence of this dominance was the emergence in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries of the mafia as a mediating force between local people and distant governors. From being associated initially with ‘freedom and heroes’, it became a manifestation of ‘invisible crime’ and an inescapable aspect of almost every aspect of employment in Sicily (46). Just as in the past death sentences were announced by ‘nocturnal attacks on orchards, irrigation water being withheld, or thefts of livestock’, so ‘disappearances’ continued to occur in post-war years on the island without the mafia’s ‘soiling their hands’ (48). Family ties influenced patterns of work profoundly, since ‘the Sicilian family is a closed universe and beyond the family there are ties of clientelism. In Sicily, everything is an expression of clientelism: one’s trade, leisure activities, patrons, sub-patrons, politics … and finally the mafia’ (57). In short, Rochefort argued that Sicilians are ‘prisoners of themselves’, as well as being ‘poorly prepared for work, and poorly prepared to use their intelligence’ (59). During the 1950s children typically left school at a young age, levels of illiteracy remained high and the services of sorcerers, magicians and healers were still being called on in many villages. Large families were encouraged by religious teaching, and many households still shared their homes with domestic animals. In the depths of the countryside and urban slums, ‘levels of poverty, squalor and depravity are encountered that unsuspecting tourists would never imagine’ (63). Emigration

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to more prosperous parts of northern Italy, western Europe and North America formed the long-established means of escape, which assumed ‘a tribal aspect, since people from a village always tend to regroup into a community in their adopted country’ (71). At mid-century, the peasantry was the largest employment class in Sicily. Post-war legislation enabled farmers’ cooperatives to rent uncultivated land to bring into productive use but rural poverty remained widespread, provoking peasant marches and hunger strikes (Rochefort 1962a, b). Land reform allowed property to be reallocated from large latifondo estates to create family farms but reluctance to release land retarded this process. Further complications arose from bureaucratic delays and the magnitude of technical challenges, such as constructing new farmhouses and laying new roads ‘in an ocean of hills, and digging wells and making reservoirs across areas of arid land’ (Rochefort 1961c, 110). Peasant farmers, ‘strongly steeped in their past lives [in large nucleated settlements] had to undergo a revolution in thinking in order to move to areas of colonization’ with new dispersed farmsteads (115). Unfortunately, some land reform houses and farm buildings were too small to meet farmers’ needs, or lacked water supply or electricity. As a result, a number remained empty or were occupied only at harvest time. Many farm women told Rochefort that they hated ‘the isolation of new farmhouses and preferred to stay in town, even if that meant [their family’s] living in a single room’ (116). At mid-century, half of the Sicilian peasantry comprised day labourers experiencing ‘spontaneous selection: the strongest and youngest are preferred, and those who settled for lowest rates of pay’ (178). The rest were not hired and remained unwaged. Impoverished bands of migrant harvesters, sometimes comprising whole families, still operated in parts of the island. In the third part of her thesis Rochefort charted a wide range of non-rural work, including fishing, mining and handicraft activities, each of which was, of course, subject to seasonal fluctuation. Following the Second World War oil extraction led to a ‘petrol boom’ but the technicians were all outsiders, leaving only manual work for the Sicilians. By contrast, newly installed factories at Siracusa and Augusta provided more stable employment for local men, many of whom travelled from surrounding villages each day. Their standard of living was ‘superior to that of day labourers, sharecroppers, and even small landowners and shopkeepers’ (249). In the 1950s, ‘the itinerant hawker still

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remained a key personality in Sicilian society, just as in the past, serving as an indispensable intermediary in the circuit of trade; such activity also camouflaged the distress of unemployment’ (275). Urban peddlers sold all manner of goods, from foodstuffs to disinfected second-hand clothes received from the USA. Employment in banks carried great prestige and was highly sought after in Sicily, but this was an exception in the mass of urban poverty. In her final pages, Rochefort concluded that ‘the population of Sicily contains a formidable – but imprecise – number of forgotten people, both workers and unemployed, who are abandoned to a difficult fate that appears all the more anachronistic when compared with general progress being made in the contemporary world’ (319). As in all underdeveloped regions, this condition derives from ‘a mentality of waste’, whereby such resources as workers, time, money, land and animals are squandered. Despite examples of progress since 1945, linked to land reform, tourism and factory-based industrialization, Sicily ‘seems to be falling back’ when compared with ‘other Italian regions or Europe as a whole’ (325). To achieve genuine improvement would require ‘a change in mentality among the whole Sicilian population, beginning with an attack on ignorance and illiteracy’ among children and adults alike (331). Despite undeniable socio-economic challenges, Rochefort ended her thesis on a note of optimism, insisting that there was no reason ‘to despair over this region or its people who, when given the chance, are capable of great enthusiasm and of achieving great things’ (334). Inexplicably, she made no mention of the pioneering work in social geography being undertaken at this time by Abel Chatelain (1910–71) who published many papers in the Revue de Géographie de Lyon (Vant 1984, 136). For unknown reasons, Le travail en Sicile was not reviewed in the pages of either the national Annales de Géographie or the Revue de Géographie de Lyon, edited in Rochefort’s home department. However, a long and enthusiastic account appeared in the important interdisciplinary Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations in which Etienne Juillard declared the book to be ‘particularly successful’, of great importance in the study of under-development and as a methodological contribution to ‘the renewal of human geography’ (Juillard 1964, 589, 591). Germaine Veyret-Verner (1913–73) offered a complex appraisal in which she argued that the author was ‘playing with words’ by emphasizing social geography, and paid insufficient attention to

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physical geography in the thesis – despite Rochefort’s having indicated that hers was a work of human geography (Bourgeat 2010; Veyret-Verner 1961, 792–3) (on Veyret-Verner see Geographers 37). After these remarks, VeyretVerner judged the chapter on migration from the countryside to be ‘excellent’ and the descriptions of work, unemployment and underemployment to be both ‘lively and colourful’ (793). She was, however, critical of Rochefort’s conclusion for embracing ‘too many facts, too many uncertainties, and too many disciplines. But this youthful audacity may be excused for being due to enthusiasm and great knowledge of Sicily, rather than to vanity’ (793). Despite some reservations, she concluded that Le travail en Sicile was: a very fine and very good book [demonstrating] very fine intellectual qualities, vigorous thought, subtle analysis, excellent observation and grasp of humanity. Richness of documentation, qualities of exposition and style, profound familiarity with the region, empathy and enthusiasm all contribute to making the book by Renée Rochefort both instructive and engaging. (794)

An Italian reviewer considered it to be ‘a total success’, praiseworthy not only for its elucidation of Sicilian society but also for its ‘contribution, made with energy and finesse, to the process of clarifying the chaos covered by the single term “geographical knowledge”’ (Compagna 1962, 1016). Sicilian scholar Guido Macera was equally impressed by Rochefort’s ability to investigate deep cultural issues in her analysis of ‘the serious disequilibrium between population and resources’ on the island (Macera 1961–2). While recognizing the essentially geographical character of her work, other reviewers highlighted her debt to other social sciences. Bernard Mottez (1930–2009) focused on her ‘direct knowledge of the psychology of Sicilians, obtained through long periods spent on the island’ (Mottez 1963, 96). Jules Wilmet (1933–2016) emphasized how she employed ‘the techniques of the historian’, and Bernard Kayser (1926–2001) noted her indebtedness to sociology (Wilmet 1965, 1082; Kayser 1962, 272). Noting that recent development schemes to arouse Sicily ‘from a thousand years of slumber’ had brought the island international attention, and the exploits of the mafia had brought it international notoriety, an anonymous reviewer in Population concluded that Le travail en Sicile was a ‘scientific work of real literary value’ that combined geographical, economic and sociological approaches with great

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success (Anon. 1962, 359). The book earned Rochefort the Herbet-Fournet Prize of the Société de Géographie de Paris in 1962, but was not reviewed in North American or British geographical periodicals. Not until later was it quoted in the work of Anne Buttimer (1938–2017) and praised as ‘pioneering work’ in social geography (Boquet 2018, 189; Buttimer 1971, 1976, 289; Cailly 2003, 853) (on Buttimer see Geographers 37). Translation of the thesis into Italian was delayed for many years and did not appear until 2005 under the revised title of Sicilia anni cinquanta: Lavoro, cultura, società (Sicily in the 1950s: Work, culture, society). On 8 June 1963, two years after defending her thesis, Rochefort delivered a paper entitled ‘Social geography and the human sciences’ to august members of the Association de Géographes Français, including many professors from the Sorbonne. In her richly documented communication, which drew on a very wide literature emanating from geography and cognate disciplines and included items in several languages in addition to French, she made the case for ‘social geography’ to be recognized and accepted as a distinctive component within the geographical domain. She began by asserting that: ‘the role of social facts and social reality is increasingly preponderant in the network of explanations being used to account for terrestrial landscapes and spatial interconnections, which are the very substance of geography’ (Rochefort 1963b, 19). Then she declared: Social geography begins by reversing the order of explanatory factors, reversing our interest – even our way of thinking – so that geographers may decide to allocate more importance to human groups than to space; more precisely to give importance to the human group first of all and to spatial considerations only thereafter. (Rochefort 1963b, 20)

Social geographers and sociologists, she maintained, view ‘space’ in differing ways and describe it through different forms of language, with sociologists typically expressing themselves in ‘more abstract and philosophical ways’, and geographers tending to employ ‘more concrete and down to earth’ terms (24). Such ‘differences in language’, she insisted, ‘betray differences in professional ways of thinking (mentalités)’ that may be recognized also in each of the other human sciences (anthropology, ethnology, economics, political science and social history). Against this background, she advocated three vocations for

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social geography: to study areas ‘whose interpretation is particularly weighted toward social factors’; to examine human problems ‘in their own right’ (such as migration, labour, under-development); and to explore in a geographically integrated way ‘human groups in various spatial settings’ (for example, that of a whole city or region) (Rochefort 1963b, 28–9). Rochefort concluded that ‘research of this kind in social geography requires a certain autonomy’, while admitting that there was ample scope for ‘increasingly frequent and fertile exchanges between the social sciences and the kind of geography that is concerned with the weave of social life’ (30). Senior geographers in the audience, who had deeply rooted concerns to defend the unity of their discipline and defend it against history, sociology and other academic neighbours, took offence at parts of this presentation and voiced their views at its end. Jean Dresch (1905–94) thought it ‘dangerous to propose social geography as an autonomous [form of] geography. What contributes to the originality of geography is that it does not isolate the object being studied … from its context’ (31) (Geographers 31). Rochefort replied that she was not advocating ‘the slightest cleavage away from the rest of geography’, but rather sought for social geography to be recognized as ‘a state of mind’ (un état d’esprit) (31). Pierre George maintained that ‘social geography can be a pathway into human geography, but such research on its own would not be without danger … Just as there is no physical geography without climatology, hydrology, etc., there is no human geography without sociology, economics, etc … Geography must stay as it is, a single unified discipline (c’est à dire une)’ (32). Pierre Monbeig (1908–87) adopted a more conciliatory stance, finding ‘the kind of social geography that Mademoiselle Rochefort has presented with such ardour is, after all, just intelligent human geography (la géographie humaine intelligente). And since we are all intelligent beings, we are all practising social geography’ (31) (Geographers 32). Rochefort expressed total agreement with this view, while reinforcing her point that social geography was, indeed, a state of mind. In the same year Rochefort brought out a long paper examining the lives of Sardinian and Sicilian miners and their families on the coalfield of northeastern Lorraine (Rochefort 1963a). It built on earlier conversations in Sicily with intending migrants, detailed research conducted when she was employed at Strasbourg and careful analysis of a wide array of statistics. As was her custom,

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Rochefort visited many homes and conversed with men, women and children with the degree of empathy evidenced in her doctoral work (Labussière and Aldhuy 2012, 593). She began by describing the harsh silhouette of newly constructed blocks of flats that housed the workforce brought in to exploit the new mines of Lorraine. The sense of space was amplified by the frost and the north wind: groups of kids were sliding around, miners were getting out of buses provided by the Mines, their wives, wrapped up in dark clothes, had come to collect their children from school … In smoke-filled rooms in the few cafés, social segregation was in evidence, miners from Lorraine and the Saarland, Italian miners – drinking beer as opposed to coffee – Algerian miners, and Poles. The bar keepers were generally severe with the Italians, reproaching them for talking too loudly thereby discouraging locals to come in, and for brawling outside. Some evenings, passions reached such heights that it could well have been the Far West. (Rochefort 1963a, 272)

All the Italian migrants were fleeing poverty, but the Sicilians also emigrated to escape the mafia. Only a few had experience of mining; most had been day labourers engaged in farming or other forms of manual work. Many were illiterate. To speak, read and write French posed a major problem for adults, but their children were quick learners. The first arrivals were shocked by the extreme winter cold in Lorraine and social workers battled hard to convince the Italians that they should eat meat rather than subsisting on pasta and vegetables – a diet which of course has now been proven much healthier than a meat based one. Nurses sought to extirpate old-established ways of raising children and having recourse to traditional healers, rather than the health service. Birth rates were high among the Italians but so too were rates of infant mortality. Rochefort was shocked to discover that deaths of immigrant children accounted for the largest number of recent burials. Living in new, multi-storey apartment blocks, immigrant women were less housebound than back home, but they enjoyed much less social and spatial freedom than their menfolk. Living at ‘the frontier of two worlds’, many Italian families received visits from relatives still living in Sardinia or Sicily, and travelled to their home island for summer vacations whenever savings might allow (297). Rochefort concluded that living and working in industrial Lorraine posed profound challenges

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for the Italians, but stressed that their gradual integration was not a one-way process. Much was due to the laudable help and tolerance of neighbours, fellow workers, schoolteachers, civil servants and members of the local police force. In many ways Rochefort’s work was innovative and anticipated the work of other social geographers by several decades: her attention to what later became known as ‘subaltern voices’; her recognition that immigration was not a oneway process – something that anticipated later work on social hybridity; her sympathetic exploration of the experiences of migrant women and children, not just male breadwinners; and her detailed knowledge of migrant family life that was made possible by the intimacy of her contact with immigrants – a method redolent of anthropology. Unlike her earlier work that drew on conversations and interviews, Rochefort’s next project in social geography was based entirely on documentary evidence. It formed part of ‘an interdisciplinary enquiry’ into the local environment, social life and economic activity of Plozévet, a small part of western Brittany (Le Lannou 1967). It was coordinated by Maurice Le Lannou, himself a Breton, who marshalled the varied expertise of his Lyonnais colleagues. Most contributors dealt with current geographical conditions but Rochefort used her training as an historian to interrogate evidence in the manuscript records of the municipal council to elucidate change over the preceding century. This exercise demonstrated her conviction that social geography could accommodate a temporal dimension as well as being concerned with the present. Painstaking scrutiny of handwritten records, ‘practically without spelling mistakes and in near perfect French’, revealed how rural life changed in this area of predominantly Breton speech (Rochefort 1967, 261). Fishing remained important but farming diversified from near subsistence to growing vegetables for sale on a wider market, in response to improved roads and installation of a railway line. Local schooling improved through the decades, with growing numbers of children moving to towns in western France for advanced study or technical training. A ‘progressive opening to the wider world’ contributed to growing aspirations for employment that young people could only satisfy by moving away (303). As a result, the age profile of Plozévet changed, with health and social problems of the elderly becoming more prominent.

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The geographical legacy of Renée Rochefort Following her 1963 manifesto for social geography and her work on migrant families in Lorraine and on social change in Brittany, Rochefort published two sorts of scholarly paper. The first type presented recent geographical information on Sicily, Italy, the Mediterranean world and aspects of under-development (Rochefort 1961d, 1963c,d, 1964a,b, 1968, 1971, 1972a). The second type focused on themes that she judged worthy of investigation from the perspective of social geography. For example, she maintained that territorial planning (aménagement du territoire) was not simply a matter of spatial rearrangement but also a process whose outcomes deeply affected human lives (Rochefort 1962c). She argued that questions relating to youth and old age, such as schooling and health needs, should not be left to demographers, sociologists and gerontologists (Rochefort 1965, 1977). Drawing on the example of the Lyon conurbation, she noted that some, though not all, recently built social housing estates (grands ensembles) were inhabited predominantly by families of North African and other immigrant descent, raising sensitive questions about segregation by accident or design. She highlighted the resultant contrast between the city’s gentrified core and its working-class periphery (Rochefort 1970, 1971). To elucidate these changes, she maintained, research was needed on how and why citizens perceived and evaluated their lived environment (Rochefort 1972b, 1974). Ethnicity, social class, religion, unemployment, crime and even sexuality were among many other themes she believed to be ready for investigation by social geographers (Rochefort 1978, 1984b). Her article on the demography of Iceland extended her socio-geographical enquiries into distant territory (Rochefort 1966). In 1972 Rochefort took the opportunity of contributing to a volume entitled La pensée géographique française (Contemporary thought in French geography) to re-state and clarify her position on social geography. After quoting publications in English and German as well as in French, she declared: the human ‘environment is infinitely more than a number of material features, defined by economic calculations’ (Rochefort 1972b, 405). Concerning the scope of social geography:

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there are no barriers around it; it is not an autonomous discipline, but is rather an approach that draws nourishment from many varied forms of geography. It corresponds above all to the desire of geographers to insert their discipline into the dynamics of society, since it is evident that to limit study of social structure to demographic variables alone is a regrettable restriction … Social geography is the study of the social function of space and the spatial condition of people, envisaged in three ways: social spaces, the spatial strategies of groups and sub-groups, and the social structuration of space. (Rochefort 1972b, 395, 396)

At that time, she established the CREGS whose members investigated and reported on such topics as immigration, social housing, youth and old age, health and disease, selling of books and antiques, residents’ associations and cafés as places of sociability (Hérin 1984, 233; Rochefort, Barrier, Bonneville, Lejeune and Marine 1977; Vant 1984, 140–1). She supervised many master’s students and candidates for lesser doctorates (doctorats de troisième cycle), but only four scholars who prepared state doctorates. Marc Bonneville (b. 1944) traced the origin and growth of Villeurbanne, a working-class suburb on the eastern side of Lyon, and André Vant investigated the varied imagery of urban development at Saint-Etienne (Bonneville 1978; Vant 1981). He recalled that during advisory sessions, Rochefort ‘jumped from one topic to another. To profit from them, I had to pay attention to her implied suggestions as well as to her general remarks’ (pers. comm. A. Vant, 14 Dec 2018). Pierre Dumolard (b. 1941) produced a quantitative study of migration and mobility in BasDauphiné that was very different from Rochefort’s own qualitative work (Dumolard 1983), her willingness to let pupils follow their own inclinations being in marked contrast to the approach of her own doctoral supervisor. A few years later, Nicole Commerçon (b. 1943) traced the multiple functions of three medium-sized towns in the Saône valley (Commerçon 1988). In 1982 Rochefort hosted the first French national colloquium on social geography at Lyon that was attended by about a hundred scholars and at which forty papers were presented (Rochefort 1983; Hérin 1984, 231). These communications were extremely diverse in character and paid little attention to conceptual issues or the quest for integrating theory. In short: ‘debates on methodology were virtually absent’ (Gilbert 1985, 336). At this time, a wide variety of forms

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of social geography were taking root in several French universities but only to a limited extent at Lyon (Chivallon 2003a,b; Frémont, Chevalier, Hérin and Renard 1984; Hérin 1984; Séchet and Veschambre 2006). Perhaps the approach of Rochefort was too empirical or her notion of social geography as ‘a state of mind’ was too fluid and ‘lacking in theoretical depth’ to capture the attention of a large following (Gilbert 2007, 201). Or it might have been that her ideas were not known widely enough since she never assembled them into a book. The challenge of writing a textbook for student use was taken up by four male academics based in universities in western France, who acknowledged her work but declared hers ‘an isolated voice’ (Frémont, Chevalier, Hérin and Renard 1984, 68). The message remained a dead letter. During the 1960s, there were master’s dissertations and lower doctorates that included the words ‘social geography’ in their titles. But, with only a few exceptions, the echo did not reach ‘official geography’ expressed in major periodicals, state doctorate theses, and authoritative textbooks. (70)

Despite their dismissive comment, Rochefort reviewed their book generously and at length, praising its ‘originality, attractive qualities, and courage’ (Rochefort 1985, 401). Only a handful of her articles appeared in national periodicals, with two in the Annales de Géographie, two in the Bulletin de l’Association de Géographes Français and three short pieces in L’Espace Géographique (Rochefort 1960, 1963a,b, 1968, 1974, 1978, 1989b). Most of the remainder were published in the Revue de Géographie de Lyon, the house journal of her own department. Perhaps her most elegant writings were in the pages of the interdisciplinary Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations, which published her review essays on Inchiesta a Palermo (Inquiry at Palermo) (1956) by Danilo Dolci, which inquired into the many dimensions of poverty in and around the city, and on Il Gattopardo (The Leopard) (1958) by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa (1896– 1957), which explored the fate of a Sicilian princely family of large landowners during the nineteenth century (Rochefort 1958b, 1962d; Dolci 1966). The Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations also carried her remarkably detailed statistical study of population change, land ownership, farming activity and outward migration from the mafia stronghold of Corleone, a settlement considered so dangerous by teachers and civil servants that they travelled by

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bus from Palermo each day rather than spending the night there (Rochefort 1959b). A second article derived from the same body of data dealt specifically with emigration from Corleone (Rochefort 1958b). In later years Rochefort explained how she managed to gain access to this sensitive information by making friends with the elderly ladies who worked as secretaries and clerks in the mayor’s office (Calbérac 2012, 285). As with her earlier work on mining families, she took advantage of being a woman to converse with those who experiences were often considered unimportant to mainstream enquiry – there mothers, here old ladies – and in doing so produced work with valuable insights. Professor Renée Rochefort is remembered as ‘a lively and nice person’ who was generous with advice about Sicily and helped faculty from other universities to organize fieldtrips in Italy (pers. comm. François Gay, 3 Dec 2018). A younger colleague recalled that she was ‘very caring’ toward him as he prepared lectures for the first time, and was ‘very kind with students, always on their side against the administration’ (pers. comm. Christian Montès, 29 Nov 2018). Marc Bonneville, whose doctorate she supervised, stated that ‘she was a very nice and sympathetic person, without any wish for power over other people. I consider that she was a liberal, open-minded person, but not a left winger’ (pers. comm. Marc Bonneville, 1 Dec 2018). Her colleague Jeannine Renucci remembered her as a ‘discreet, devoted and very cultured friend, who was open minded and never sought to hinder others’ (Renucci 2012, 9). Renée Rochefort’s ranking in the agrégation examination echoed her qualities as a school teacher. Subsequently, her state doctorate and personal chair were indications of a successful career, achieved at a time when French academic geography was still dominated by men, who always referred to her as ‘Mademoiselle Rochefort’. Such practice was, of course, correct but perhaps also demeaning. Students appreciated her approachability and the quality of her pastoral care that may have been given at the expense of her publication record. This latter was oriented toward sustaining the Revue de Géographie de Lyon rather than toward journals that afforded greater visibility; apart from a flow of book reviews, it virtually ceased as the years passed. In retrospect, however, much of her research seems far ahead of its time with its attention to the material circumstances of quotidian life, subaltern voices and small histories, and her field work, with its immersive character redolent of the best anthropology, seems sensitive and open minded – not to say successful. Just as

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it was nineteenth-century women travellers who could penetrate institutions like the harem which men were fascinated by but could not enter, so it was Rochefort, with her self effacing conversations with elderly ladies, who could reveal the secrets of a mafia-dominated society.

Acknowledgements The main source on the life and work of Renée Rochefort is the transcript of an interview made on 31 March 2005 with Yann Calbérac (2012). Olivier Orain gave a paper on her life and work at the Festival International de Géographie, Saint-Dié, 30 September 2016. I am most grateful to Marc Bonneville, Christian Montès, Michel Sivignon, André Vant, the late Jacques Bethemont and the late François Gay for sharing their memories. Further encouragement came from Olivier Deslondes, Guy Di Méo and Russell King.

Bibliography and sources 1. References on Renée Rochefort and French social geography Bethemont, J. (1996), ‘Sur une école lyonnaise de géographie, 1923–1973’, in P. Claval and A.-L. Sanguin (eds), La Géographie française à l’époque classique, 1918–1968. Paris: L’Harmattan, 147–55. Bethemont, J. (2014), ‘Chemin faisant, parcours en géographie sociale’, Géocarrefour 89, 302. Bonneville, M. (1978), Naissance et métamorphose d’une banlieue ouvrière: Villeurbanne. Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon. Boquet, Y. (2018), Géographes et géographies. Dijon: Editions Universitaires de Dijon. Bourgeat, S. (2010), ‘Le compte-rendu, une grammaire du discours de la thèse d’état de géographie, 1960–1984’, Annales de Géographie 119, 443–65. Buttimer, A. (1971), Society and Milieu in the French Geographic Tradition. Chicago: Rand McNally. Buttimer, A. (1976), ‘Grasping the dynamism of lifeworld’, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 66, 277–92. Cailly, L. (2003), ‘Sociale (géographie)’, in J. Lévy and M. Lussault (eds), Dictionnaire de la géographie et de l’espace des sociétés. Paris: Belin, 852–5.

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Calbérac, Y. (2012), ‘Ce qui m’intéresse dans ma démarche, c’est moins le cadre que les gens: Entretien avec Renée Rochefort, 31 mars 2005’, Géocarrefour 87, 283–91. Chivallon, C. (2003a), ‘Country reports: A vision of social and cultural geography in France’, Social and Cultural Geography 4, 401–17. Chivallon, C. (2003b), ‘Une vision de la géographie sociale et culturelle en France’, Annales de Géographie 112, 646–57. Commerçon, N. (1988), La Dynamique du changement en ville moyenne: Chalon, Mâcon, Bourg. Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon. Deshaies, L. (2008), ‘La nature de la géographie comme science sociale selon Pierre George’, Cahiers de Géographie du Québec 52, 303–12. Dolci, D. (1961), ‘Préface’, in R. Rochefort, Le Travail en Sicile. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, iii. Dolci, D. (1966), Poverty in Sicily. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Dumolard, P. (1983), Migrations et mobilité en Bas-Dauphiné. Lyon: Université de Lyon II. Fiume, G. (2006), ‘A changing Sicily’, Journal of Modern Italian Studies 11, 37–60. Frémont, A., Chevalier, J., Hérin, R. and Renard, J. (1984), Géographie sociale. Paris: Masson. George, P. (1945), Géographie sociale du monde. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Gibert, A. (1966), ‘André Allix’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 41, 95–8. Gilbert, A. (1985), ‘De la géographie urbaine à la géographie sociale. Sens et non-sens de l’espace’, Cahiers de Géographie du Québec 29, 334–6. Gilbert, A. (2007), ‘Vers l’émergence d’une nouvelle géographie sociale de langue française?’, Cahiers de Géographie du Québec 51, 199–218. Ginsburger, N. (2017), ‘Portrait en groupe de femmes–géographes. La féminisation du champ disciplinaire au milieu du XXe siècle, entre effets de contexte et de structure, 1938–1960’, Annales de Géographie 126, 107–33. Hérin, R. (1984), ‘Social geography in France – heritages and perspectives’, GeoJournal 9, 231–40. Houssel, J.-P. (1999), ‘Hommage à René Lebeau’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 74, 195–6. Joly, G. (2013), Dictionnaire biographique de géographes français du XXe siècle, aujourd’hui disparus. Paris: Grafigéo. Juillard, E. (1953), La Vie rurale dans la plaine de Basse-Alsace. Essai de géographie sociale. Strasbourg: Le Roux. Labussière, O. and Aldhuy, J. (2012), ‘Le terrain? C’est ce qui résiste. Réflexion sur la portée cognitive de l’expérience sensible en géographie’, Annales de Géographie 121, 583–99.

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Lebeau, R. (1967), ‘André Allix’, L’Information Géographique 31, 142–3. Lebeau, R. (1976), La Région lyonnaise. Paris: Flammarion. Lebeau, R. (1988), ‘André Allix’, in Milieux, Villes et Régions, Actes du 112e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes, Lyon, 1987, Section de géographie physique et humaine. Paris: Comite des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 9–15. Le Lannou, M. (1941), Pâtres et paysans de Sardaigne. Tours: Arrault. Le Lannou, M. (1967), ‘Une enquête multidisciplinaire de sciences humaines en Finistère’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 42, 122. Renucci, J. (2012), ‘Renée Rochefort, 1924–2012’, Bulletin de Liaison: Société de Géographie 20, 6–9. Séchet, R. and Veschambre, V. (2006), Penser et faire la géographie sociale. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Vant, A. (1981), Imagerie et urbanisation. Recherches par l’exemple stéphanois. SaintEtienne: Etudes Foréziennes. Vant, A. (1984), ‘La géographie sociale lyonnaise en perspective’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 59, 131–46.

2. Selected reviews of the doctoral thesis of Renée Rochefort Anon. (1962), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Population 17, 359. Compagna, F. (1962), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Revue Française de Science Politique 12, 1015–21. Juillard, E. (1964), ‘A propos de deux thèses méditerranéennes: géographie rétrospective et géographie prospective’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 19, 586–92. Kayser, B. (1962), ‘Les problèmes du développement sicilien’, Revue Géographique des Pyrénées et du Sud-Ouest 33, 271–4. Macera, G. (1961–2), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Realtà del Mezzogiorno. Mottez, B. (1961), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Sociologie du Travail 5, 96–7. Veyret-Verner, G. (1961), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 49, 792–4. Wilmet, J. (1965), ‘Le travail en Sicile’, Revue Tiers Monde 6, 1081–3.

3. Works by Renée Rochefort 1954 ‘Aspects des Cyclades’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 29, 171–3. 1956 ‘Réflexions à propos du partage des terres en Sicile’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 31, 99–106. 1957 ‘La réforme agraire en Italie’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 32, 73–81.

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1958a ‘Un dossier sur le temps présent: le bas-fonds de Palerme, d’après l’enquête de Danilo Dolci’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 13, 349–58. 1958b ‘L’émigration en Amérique avant 1918 dans une bourgade sicilienne’, Quaderni di geografia umana per la Siclia e la Calabria 3. 1959b ‘Misère paysanne et troubles sociaux. Un pays de latifondo sicilien: Corleone’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 14, 441–60. 1959a ‘Il petrolio in Sicilia’, Passata e Presente, 1499–508. 1960 ‘Le pétrole en Sicile’, Annales de Géographie 69, 22–33. 1961a ‘Une “cité–état“ en Méditerranée: Dubrovnik–Raguse’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 36, 231–42. 1961b Les Bouches de Kotor: étude de géographie régionale, essai sur les espaces d’une région. Lyon: Université de Lyon, Faculté de Lettres. 1961c Le Travail en Sicile: étude de géographie sociale. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. 1961d ‘Une session d’étude sur les problèmes de développement’, Revue Géographique de l’Est 1, 367–70. 1962a ‘Sicilian cooperatives’, Archives Internationales de Sociologie de la Coopération et du Développement 11, 89–96. 1962b ‘Reflections on the division of property in Sicily’, International Review of Community Development 10, 57–66. 1962c ‘Problèmes humains de l’aménagement du territoire’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 37, 287–311. 1962d ‘Une “civilisation du Guépard”?’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 17, 368–71. 1963a ‘Sardes et Siciliens dans les grands ensembles de Charbonnages de Lorraine’, Annales de Géographie 72, 272–302. 1963b ‘Géographie sociale et sciences humaines’, Bulletin de l’Association de Géographes Français 40, 18–32. 1963c ‘La valeur de la production agricole en Italie. Ses enseignements géographiques’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 38, 93–115. 1963d ‘Sicile 1962: développement et planification’, Méditerranée 4, 53–66. 1964a ‘Le rôle des métropoles dans l’urbanisation de l’Italie’, L’Information Géographique 28, 102–8. 1964b ‘A propos de l’histoire du paysage agraire italien’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 39, 183–95. 1965 ‘Pour une géographie sociale de la vieillesse’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 40, 5–33. 1966 ‘L’Islande face à sa démographie’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 41, 5–28.

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1967 ‘Géographie sociale d’une commune bretonne d’après les délibérations de son conseil municipal’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 42, 261–304. 1968 ‘La géographie du sous-développement vue de la Méditerranée’, Bulletin de l’Association de Géographes Français 45, 83–9. 1970 ‘Grands ensembles et mutations des banlieues lyonnaises’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 45, 201–14. 1971 ‘Changements et permanences: Géographie du travail et des vacances des Italiens’, Méditerranée 2, 483–500 1971 ‘Géographie des migrations’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 46, 227–9. 1972a ‘La population italienne en 1971’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 47, 385–93. 1972b ‘Géographie sociale et environnement’, in La Pensée géographique française contemporaine: Mélanges offerts au professeur A. Meynier. Saint-Brieuc: Presses Universitaires de Bretagne, 395–405. 1974 ‘La perception des paysages’, L’Espace Géographique 3(3), 205–9. 1977 ‘Les enfants et adolescents dans l’agglomération lyonnaise en 1976: Disparités et ségrégations’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 52, 319–37. 1977 (with Barrier, M.-H., Bonneville, M., Lejeune, M. and Marine, A.) ‘Les familles maghrébines dans la communauté urbaine de Lyon’, Travaux et Documents: Cahier 79. Paris: Institut National d’Etudes Démographiques and Presses Universitaires de France, 135–237. 1978 ‘Espace et justice sociale’, L’Espace Géographique 7(4), 307–9. 1983 ‘Réflexions liminaires sur la géographie sociale’, in D. Noin (ed.), Géographie sociale, actes du colloque de Lyon, 14–16 octobre 1982, 11–14. 1984a ‘Les classes sociales: l’état et les cultures en géographie sociale’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 59, 157–72. 1984b ‘Pourquoi la géographie sociale ?’, in De la géographie urbaine à la géographie sociale. Sens et non-sens de l’espace. Paris: Collectif français de géographie urbaine et sociale, 13–7. 1985 ‘Géographie sociale: compte rendu d’un ouvrage’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 60, 399–401. 1989a ‘Apporter de nouveau sur les migrations internationales?’, Espaces Populations Sociétés 1989 (3), 323–6. 1989b ‘La géographie généraliste’, L’Espace Géographique 18 (2), 92–3. 1993 ‘La Méditerranée dans l’œuvre de Maurice Le Lannou’, Revue de Géographie de Lyon 68, 239–42. 2005 Sicilia anni Cinquanta. Lavoro, cultura, società (trans. Mario Gandolfo Giacomarra). Palermo: Sellerio.

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Chronology 1924

Born in Lyon, 20 November

1949

Ranked first in the agrégation feminine d’histoire et géographie; teaching in

1951–7

Teaching at the Lycée Saint-Just, Lyon; part-time research on Sicily

1957–62

Full-time research funded by the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique

1959

Published article on Corleone

1960

Completed state doctorate in June

1961

State doctorate awarded; publication of Le travail en Sicile; teaching at

1962

Appointed to personal chair in human geography, University of Lyon

1963

Delivered controversial paper on social geography and the human sciences;

Grenoble

Strasbourg

published article on Sardinian and Sicilian mining families 1967

Published article on Plozévet, western Brittany

1972

Created the Centre de Recherches sur l’Environnement Géographique et Social (CREGS)

1982

Hosted national colloquium on social geography at Lyon

1990

Retired from chair of human geography, Université de Lyon II

2012

Died in Lyon, 23 August

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6

Two French geographers, father and son: Gaston Gravier (1886–1915) and Jean-François Gravier (1915–2005) Hugh Clout

Gaston Gravier and his son Jean-François were geographers with very different life paths. Gaston taught in Belgrade, wrote scholarly articles and embarked on a doctorate about Serbia, whose national aspirations he promoted; but did not complete his work since he was tragically killed on a battlefield in northern France. When still a student, his son Jean-François frequented farright political groups and, after graduation, worked for the Vichy regime, the Second World War regime which governed southern France in collaboration with the Nazis. Subsequently, he was employed by the Fondation Alexis Carrel before joining the Ministère de la Reconstruction where he investigated spatial inequalities in France. With proposals for l’aménagement du territoire (regional planning, but see below for a more detailed account), controls on the growth of Paris and decentralization of employment from the capital, his book Paris et le désert français (1947) was a source of inspiration for French planners until the expansion of Paris to world-city status became a major ambition. For many years, J.-F. Gravier was a senior civil servant with national planning organizations. The logic and the political ideology behind his assumptions have been challenged recently. The final part of his career was as professor of regional economics and spatial planning in Paris.

Gaston Gravier (1886–1915): A productive life cut short (Marie René) Gaston Gravier was born on 21 August 1886 at Liffol-le-Grand in the Vosges département of north-eastern France, the son of Jules Joseph Gravier

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(1863–1943) and Marie Josephine (née Demay) (1862–1946) whose marriage took place there on 25 October 1885. The couple had two more children: Léon (1887–1963) and Marie Jeanne Augustine (1896–1947). Jules was the village schoolteacher and gave his son his earliest tuition. In 1897 Gaston started secondary education at the college in Neufchâteau, a 10-kilometre train journey from home, and completed these studies as a boarder at the lycée (state high school) in the provincial city of Nancy. As a bright pupil exhibiting academic promise, he was encouraged by his parents and teachers to enrol for a degree in history and geography at the University of Lille. Despite having moved away to le Nord (the northern region of France), ‘he returned frequently to his family home and kept in close communion with farming life. He spoke with feeling about the landscapes, villages and farmers of Lorraine’ (Demangeon 1915, 455). Gravier obtained his first degree in the summer of 1908. The professor of geography at Lille, Albert Demangeon (1872–1940), was a particularly strong influence on the young man and it was under his supervision that Gravier undertook his first research, graduating with a diplôme d’études supérieures (equivalent to a master’s degree by research) (on Demangeon see Geographers 11). Gravier made an holistic study of his home area, La plaine lorraine, which displayed ‘all his curiosity for human activities and their relationship to nature; all the manifestations of economic life as they appeared to result from the influence of the geographic environment’ (Demangeon 1915, 455). Drawing on fieldwork and archival sources, the dissertation was good enough to be published in abbreviated form in the Annales de Géographie, which was edited by Paul Vidal de La Blache (1845–1917) and a small group of colleagues at the Sorbonne in Paris (Gravier 1910) (on Vidal de La Blache see Geographers 12). Thanks to Demangeon, a much fuller article from the diplôme appeared later, exploring each component in detail and being illustrated with maps and diagrams (Gravier 1920). It concluded that, despite half a century of intense depopulation and many changes in farming practice, the plaine remained ‘the old agricultural area at the heart of Lorraine’ (246). Gravier made an impression on his professor who remembered him as ‘a strong personality; with a rather thin face, large eyes full of curiosity; a rather reserved, almost timid attitude; rather a hesitation to speak aloud; but having a heart that responded to trust and affection, and a tenacious will to become something in life’ (Demangeon 1915, 455). While studying at Lille,

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Gravier often told Demangeon that he felt ‘France was too small and that he should look beyond it [to] broaden his horizons’ (455). He started to learn Russian and spent a long vacation as a private tutor to a family in Kharkov to enhance his knowledge of the language. By contrast with his success in research, Gravier did not manage to pass the extremely demanding national examination (concours d’agrégation d’histoire et géographie) for those hoping to become high-level instructors in state lycées and university teachers. Despite this disappointment, in the autumn of 1909 he was appointed to teach French language and civilization at the University of Belgrade in Serbia at a time when France was intent on increasing its influence in the Balkans as the Ottoman empire began to crumble. Gravier remained in that post for the rest of his short life. His expertise in Russian helped him to learn Serbian, allowing him to study local sources and undertake enquiries in the field. At this time, the Balkans were at the interface of the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires, where numerous ethnic groups, of which the Serbs were one, sought independence and territorial control. As Gravier explained, it was ‘a poorly differentiated zone where two profoundly different worlds in terms of race and culture made contact [and] where races, religions, cultures, interests and ambitions great and small were superimposed and mixed together’ (Gravier 1919, 4). After five centuries of Ottoman rule, the Serbs regained autonomy within the Ottoman empire in the early nineteenth century and Serbian independence was internationally recognized at the Congress of Berlin in 1878. When Gravier arrived in Belgrade in the summer of 1909 the Serbs were demonstrating their resentment at the AustroHungarian annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina in the previous year, and were actively pursuing new outlets for trade to the south rather than through Austria–Hungary to the north. In 1912 conflict threatened in the Balkans and Gravier informed Demangeon that ‘war is now inevitable and will be declared in several days; you must understand that I am committed to Serbia and I cannot remain indifferent’ (quoted in Demangeon 1915, 457). Ottoman forces collapsed unexpectedly in 1912–13 allowing Serbia to recover the whole of northern and central Macedonia, as well as the eastern half of the sanjak of Novibazar. This ‘new Serbia’ became ‘the Balkan state par excellence’, cutting the peninsula in two, with only 60 kilometres separating it from the Gulf of Salonika, but the Serbian ambition of controlling territory westwards to the

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Adriatic Sea remained unfulfilled (Gravier 1919, 153). Acting as a kind of foreign correspondent, Gravier reported these and subsequent developments in the Balkans in over a dozen dispatches to French journals, including L’Effort (1911), Le Figaro (1912), Correspondance d’Orient (1913) and Le Temps (1913– 14) (Peurey 2015, 309). Western interest in the Balkans was keen at this time as defence alliances involving Western powers gave Balkan instability a morethan-regional significance. Gravier also published several long essays in non-geographical periodicals (especially the Revue de Paris) on the retreat of Muslims from recently annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina, the bitterly contested matters of jurisdiction and land ownership in that territory, and the changing dimensions of Serbia since the middle ages (Gravier 1911a,b, 1913a). The tense relationship of Serbia to Albanian-occupied territory was explored in two further articles in the Revue de Paris (Gravier 1911c, 1913b). These essays drew not only on information gleaned from the Serbian press, which had been established ‘relatively recently … following the penetration of western influences and the emerging sense of national identity’, but also from Gravier’s observations in the field (Gravier 1912a, 13). Writing in 1913 he asserted: ‘A new order is now being established painfully in the Balkans … The political map of the peninsula is transformed. The little states that were considered, just a few years ago, as playthings in the hands of great powers must now be taken seriously’ (Gravier 1913a, 417). Serbian expansion, regarded by the Serbs as the rightful reestablishment of their previous more extensive polity, was, of course, contentious, and regarded with resentment by some other powers in the region and trepidation by some from other religious and ethnic groups. Gravier followed many in the West in supporting the Christian Serbs against Muslim groups, and against the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires. As well as reporting current affairs, Gravier wrote academic articles about the changing socio-economic circumstances of the ‘new Serbia’ and adjacent territories. The first of these texts, drafted after only a year in Belgrade, was devoted to ‘the economic emancipation of Serbia’ and was published by the Société de Géographie Commerciale de Paris (Gravier 1911d). Until 1905 Serbia had depended economically on Austro-Hungary but since then a series of trade agreements had been signed with other nations. Traditional production

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of cereals, fruit and livestock was now complemented by new manufactures that were being funded by the recently created Franco-Serbian Bank and by other finance houses. Gravier believed that ‘painful crisis … has given rise to genuine economic revival and has passed a great current of new activity through the country’ (428). This article was followed by a briefer statement in the Annales de Géographie that exemplified the ‘inflow of capital, multiplication of new firms, construction of roads, opening up of new markets, and birth of new manufactures’ (Gravier 1912b, 50). It showed that ‘French money now dominates the market [with] all the large loans being negotiated with France’ (53). The Annales de Géographie carried Gravier’s later essays on socioeconomic conditions in the contested region of Bosnia-Herzegovina, and on population changes in Serbia derived from an enquiry whose results were not initially intended for publication and had to be scrutinized at the finance ministry in Belgrade (Gravier 1913c, 1914a). A version of the latter report appeared in translation in the bulletin of the Serbian geographical society (Gravier 1914b). Gravier was not content with being a teacher and a foreign correspondent. With encouragement from Demangeon, he started work on a state doctorate (doctorat d’état) for which two theses had to be written and defended in public. Reflecting his university training, his minor thesis was historical in character and traced the changing geographical expressions of Serbia from medieval times to 1913. Using published sources and secret archival material he completed the first draft by the summer of 1914 and handed this to Demangeon who had left Lille and had been in post at the Sorbonne since 1911 (Chevrier 1951). The intention was that Gravier would revise his text in the light of his supervisor’s comments. His major thesis was a more ambitious project that involved a geographical examination of each of the territorial components of ‘new Serbia’. As well as analysing published work by Serbian scholars, notably by the prolific geographer Jovan Cvijić (1865–1927) who had explored areas of Serbia that were ‘as poorly known to us as [were] parts of central Africa’, Gravier assembled information gathered during his own fieldwork, often across difficult and dangerous terrain (Gravier 1911c, 206; Ginsburger 2015, 329) (on Cvijić see Geographers 4) (Freeman 1967). From the many letters he received from his student, Demangeon recalled:

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In his travels he liked the unexpected, the picturesque; leaving early in the morning, on foot or horseback, escorted very often by a guide, which was necessary in regions that lacked roads; studying the terrain, interviewing farmers; stopping to eat and then passing the night in the home of a farmer, priest or monk, who welcomed him warmly, even nobly, and talked about old customs and sometimes sang a psalm … In Albania, he travelled under the protection of the biggest brigand and assassin in the country. (Demangeon 1915, 456)

The first piece of contributory work that Gravier completed toward his major thesis was a report on the upland sanjak of Novibazar that was divided between Serbia and Montenegro in 1913. Three weeks of fieldwork in July 1912 were characterized by ‘very precarious conditions and constant insecurity; essential escorts of eight or ten men; impossibility of moving away from established tracks; very limited maps; distrust of local people, and suspicion from the authorities’ (Gravier 1913d, 41). From the observations made on this hazardous journey, he produced a substantial article for the Annales de Géographie that stressed the harshness of the local environment and the existence of a profound social contrast whereby ‘Muslims own almost all the cultivated land, and Christians pay rent. Muslims prefer to live in towns, and Christians are generally country folk’ (46). A six-page English summary about this newsworthy territory was carried by the Geographical Journal (Gravier 1913e). It is impossible to know how much work Gravier undertook in other parts of Serbia since he did not live to complete his thesis, but a brief study of the relationship between relief and settlement in the Šumadija area was published in Serbian (Gravier 1913f). A much expanded version was retrieved from papers in his home in Belgrade and appeared in the Annales de Géographie some years later (Gravier 1921). At a time when reliable, first-hand information in the west about the Balkans was both sought after and at something of a premium, Gravier’s reports, though never disinterested, were of more than academic interest. As well as teaching, writing and researching, Gravier founded a Société littéraire française to promote the diffusion of French culture in Serbia, in line with French policy in the Balkans. He arranged for French scholars to deliver lectures in Belgrade and enlarged the embryonic library of French-language works at the university. With the blessing of the French chargé d’affaires, M. Descos, and of the former president of the Serbian Royal Academy,

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M. Žujović, the Société littéraire française proved highly successful and three provincial centres for French studies were opened (Peurey 2008). As a result of Gravier’s initiatives, growing numbers of Serbian students chose to study in France rather than in Austria or Germany. In 1913 twenty young Serbs left for French universities instead of the usual three or four (Demangeon 1915, 457). Gravier’s reputation as a cultural entrepreneur was acknowledged in Austria and in 1913 an offer of a teaching post in an Austrian university was made commanding a salary three times that provided in Belgrade (letter from Claire Gravier to Demangeon, 18 Oct 1915). However, his commitment to Serbia, and his disinclination to leave it for Austria, its main rival in regional power struggles, were unwavering and the proposition was promptly declined: ‘In his eyes, to accept would have been betrayal’ (letter from Claire Gravier to Demangeon, 18 Oct 1915). At the end of July 1913, Gravier informed Demangeon: ‘The interest that I have in my studies continues to grow and I shall have by my side a young, intelligent and educated companion. I believe that I am achieving the happy and active life about which I have dreamed’ (letter of 28 July 1913, cited in Demangeon 1915, 455). This ‘intelligent and educated companion’ was Claire Derulle (1894–1988) whom Gaston married on 29 March 1914. Her family came from the bleak farmlands and iron-working valleys of the Ardennes in northern France. However, the ‘happy and active life’ that Gaston had anticipated with his new wife was cut short by international politics. Three months after their marriage the already unstable geopolitics of the Balkans deteriorated further when Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian and Hungarian crowns, was assassinated in Sarajevo on 28 June by Gavrilo Princip, a young Bosnian revolutionary. On 28 July Austro-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Having seen Gravier for the last time earlier in that month, Demangeon declared: ‘He was one of the rare Frenchmen to anticipate that the Eastern Question would set the West aflame’ (457). By the start of August the assassination had triggered a domino effect as countries came to one another’s defence in accordance with international alliances, and the First World War had begun. Gravier had already seen military service with the Serbian army in Albania but had subsequently returned to France with his wife. On 2 August he was mobilized as a sergeant in the 279th infantry, a Lorraine regiment. At first, he fought near Nancy and then in Artois, ironically in territory that he

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had explored with Demangeon during student fieldtrips from Lille (Clout 2003, 346). At the end of October, he wrote to his professor ‘from a trench in the front line’, explaining: ‘After the Lorraine campaign, I have been for a month in the Nord campaign. You must understand how glad I am to defend, in turn, my birthplace [Lorraine] and my adopted territory’ of northern France and Lille (letter to Demangeon, 29 Oct 1914). In Demangeon’s words: ‘Death passed close to him more than once; he knew that it would return’ (Demangeon 1915, 457). On 10 June 1915 Gravier was killed when a heavy calibre shell exploded nearby burying him and several comrades in a trench at Souchez-Ablain-Saint-Nazaire, close to Vimy ridge. Albert Demangeon penned a long obituary of the young man whom he regarded as a friend as well as a student, declaring ‘it is not only his charm and modesty, his affection and enthusiasm that we lament, it is also what the merciless war has destroyed in terms of energy and intelligence’ (Demangeon 1924, 454). He confided to his own mother: ‘[Gravier] is yet another of the best who have gone, one of the élite we should have kept to allow national life to begin again after the war’ (letter to Madame Demangeon, 23 June 1915). Gravier’s geographer friends shared their grief with their professor. Jacques Levainville (1869–1932) declared: ‘much of my own youth has disappeared with his passing. He was a good friend from the good times when I was learning geography from you’ (letter to Demangeon, 19 July 1915). (On Levainville see Geographers 35.) Alfred Fichelle (1889–1968) stressed: ‘For all who knew him, Gravier was not only a dear friend but also a comrade of whom we were proud: we all wished him a brilliant future that would be worthy of his great efforts and activity. What a loss for all his friends; what a loss for scholarship where he had already made his mark’ (letter to Demangeon, 29 June 1915). Demangeon agreed, stating that Gaston ‘was at that stage when one can say that he had embarked on his life’s work … We knew him well enough to declare that he would have become an influential professor (un maître)’(Demangeon 1915, 455). In a similar vein, Emile Haumant (1859–1942), professor of Slavic languages at the Sorbonne, lamented that ‘such a brief but such a full career’ had been lost (Haumant 1919a, 144). Despite not completing his doctorate and notwithstanding his tragic early death, Gravier was a prolific scholar who produced an important quantity of material on Serbia and adjacent territories, as well as on Lorraine. With

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assistance from Gravier’s wife, Albert Demangeon arranged for the Société de Géographie de Lille to publish a seventy-five-page article entitled ‘La plaine dans la région vosgienne’, and for the Annales de Géographie to print Gravier’s study of the Šumadija area (Gravier 1920, 1921). Both these essays exemplified his holistic approach to research and involved work in the archives as well as in the field. He paid attention to physical geography as well as human activities, and fully realized that apparently ‘natural’ landscapes were transformed by human agency across the centuries. For example, his examination of the once-forested region of the Šumadija included results from his ‘detailed enquiry, undertaken village by village and drawing on the inhabitants’ memory, that enabled the extent of woodland at the beginning of this century to be established with reasonable accuracy’ (Gravier 1921, 354). As a result of decades of deforestation in the Šumadija, ‘the soil has lost its moisture, evaporation is exaggerated, holes appear where livestock often pass, and the danger increases with the steepness of the slope’ (359). Degradation was so intense that: When a storm breaks, masses of water run off denuded high points into narrow, steep-sided valleys, drowning animals and people, carrying away bridges, roads, and railways, destroying crops and sometimes ruining whole villages, as well as spreading stones and gravel across once-fertile land. (360)

Gravier’s minor thesis, entitled Les frontières historiques de la Serbie, was published in Paris by Armand Colin, the favoured publishing house of Vidal de La Blache and his disciples (Gravier 1919). Running to 164 pages and incorporating facsimiles of old maps, it traced the changing geographical expression of Serbia from medieval times to 1913. Haumant wrote a preface that explained that this was ‘a pre-war study’ that Claire Gravier ‘had seen through publication with the support of Serbian friends’ (Ginsburger 2010, 578–85; Haumant 1919a, 144; 1919b, 1). Indeed, those friends ‘thought that this work has not lost any of its interest even though it was written under rather different preoccupations from those of today [1919] … For in 1913 and 1914 the question of “Yugoslavia” [the Serbian-dominated country which was formed in 1929] was not yet raised; in Belgrade no one was thinking of such enlargement’ (Haumant 1919b, 1). Employing knowledge acquired in Serbia and using ‘the method he owed to his professors at the University of Lille and

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to his master in Serbia, Jovan Cvijić’, Gravier ‘illuminated the force of historical memories and geographical connections’ in his thesis (2). The reviewer noted that some readers might regret that recent events were not taken into account but ‘this would alter the character of the book that must remain Gaston Gravier’s work’, and will express ‘pious homage to his memory from his teachers and friends’ (2). Haumant also wrote a lengthy review of the work for the Annales de Géographie, thereby bringing its existence to the attention of a wide scholarly audience. His praise was tempered by a single regret, namely that Gravier had not set the evolution of Serbia in a wider geographical context, since ‘after 1807 the Serbs were speaking of the reconstitution of the empire of medieval Serbia’ (Haumant 1919a, 146). A short note in the Geographical Review signalled the book to English readers, for which the Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques made a posthumous award of the Prix Drouyn de Lhuys (Anon. 1919, 136). During the final years of his brief life, Gravier strove ‘to serve the interests of the Serbian people whom he loved profoundly, and those of France whose influence he wished to see expand in Serbia. In his thinking he united the country in which he was born with his country of adoption’ (Demangeon 1915, 456). His unwavering support of Serbia corresponded with the geopolitical stance of France at this time and was shared by most French scholars working in the Balkans (Peurey 2008). His numerous publications on Serbia and adjacent territories corresponded chronologically with those of Jean Brunhes (1869–1930) but preceded work on the peninsula by other French geographers, such as Yves Châtaigneau (1891–1969) – his successor at the University of Belgrade from 1919 to 1924 – and Jacques Ancel (1882–1943) (Brunhes 1914) (see Geographers 25, 35, 3, respectively). Despite his many writings, Gaston Gravier is now a forgotten figure in the French academy (though his Les frontières historiques de la Serbie [1919] was reprinted in the US and Australia in the twenty-first century as interest in the Balkans once again increased). Notwithstanding this renewed interest, the surname Gravier is associated more readily with his son, Jean-François, who was born in Paris less than two months before his father’s death on 10 June 1915 at the age of twenty-eight. Tragically, Gaston never saw his only child. Confiding in Demangeon, Claire Gravier remarked: ‘I really hope that his father’s spirit will come alive in him’ (undated letter quoted by Demangeon 1915, 458).

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Jean-François Gravier (1915–2005): Life and work Jean-François Gravier was born on 14 April 1915 at Levallois-Perret, a western suburb of Paris, the only child of Gaston Gravier (1886–1915) and Claire Gravier (née Derulle, 1894–1988). He received his early education at local schools and his secondary education at the Lycée Buffon and the Lycée Janson-de-Sailly in the west of Paris. He completed his schooling at the prestigious Lycée Henri IV where he was tutored in preparation for entry examinations for the elite Ecole Normale Supérieure (rue d’Ulm) (Couzon 2001, 165). He was not successful in this extremely exacting competition and enrolled instead at the Faculté des Lettres at the Sorbonne, where he studied history and geography in a combined programme in which history predominated. Jean-François became especially interested in geography. Among his professors were Emmanuel de Martonne (1873–1955) and Albert Demangeon (1872–1940), both direct disciples of Paul Vidal de La Blache (1845–1917), and veteran historian Henri Hauser (1866–1946) who was very geographically minded and had researched the definition of functional regions in France at the conclusion of the First World War (Barjot 2002, 10) (on De Martonne, Demangeon, Vidal de La Blache, and Hauser see Geographers 12, 11, 12, 26, respectively). Receiving a traditional training in physical geography, cartography, regional studies and human geography, Gravier was particularly attracted to economic geography that was taught by Demangeon and embraced economic principles and their manifestation in rural and urban environments (letters from J.-F. Gravier, 8 May and 17 Nov 2003). In 1938, Gravier took the national competitive examination for those hoping to become high-level teachers in state lycées and instructors in universities in France. He passed that hurdle coming in eighteenth position among thirty-two successful candidates in the concours d’agrégation d’histoire et géographie in that year. A career in teaching seemed to lie ahead. François, as he called himself at this time, was an ardent Catholic and social conviction who belonged to a generation of students that lived through the problematic 1930s and sought an alternative to capitalism, whose shortcomings were revealed so painfully after the stock market crash of 1929, but rejected Soviet communism. He mixed with intellectuals who sought a kind of social Catholicism that related the teachings of the church to tackling challenges facing society. While still a student, Gravier made many contacts with members

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of various groups that collectively became known as the ‘Young Right’ (Jeune Droite) (Dard 2002, 69; Kessler 2001; Mazgaj 2007, 170; Peschanski 1988, 648). He wrote articles for several ephemeral journals that appeared during the 1930s, including Combat, Civilisation and L’Insurgé. The last was a political and social weekly that courted workers as well as the middle classes. Starting publication in January 1937, it counted François Gravier among ‘its young, energetic and clever staff ’ (Weber 1962, 511). Some of the contacts he made at this time were useful for the development of his career, not least his friendship with economist François Perroux (1903–87) that developed from their membership of the editorial board of Civilisation (Couzon 2003, 85). It might have been work for these publications that supported him after he passed the agrégation, or he might have been employed in some form of teaching. Whether Gravier was called up to serve in the army is not clear, since there is no entry for 1938–40 in his curriculum vitae (sent from J.-F. Gravier, 8 May 2003). After the fall of France following the German invasion in May 1940, the country was divided between the zone of German occupation in the north and the so-called ‘free zone’ (a regime which nonetheless collaborated with the Nazis) in the south, headed by Maréchal Philippe Pétain and with its headquarters at Vichy. The political agenda of the Vichy regime became known as the ‘National Revolution’. In the early autumn of 1940 Gravier was appointed to teach French language and civilization at the University of Belgrade, as his father had done, but whilst Gaston remained for almost six years and produced much scholarly work on Serbia, Jean-François stayed for under a year and generated no academic publications. In the autumn of 1941 J.-F. Gravier returned to France and, as ‘a loyal follower of Pétain’, started to work at Vichy for the secretariat concerned with young people (Weber 1962, 516). René Vincent of the secretariat for information and propaganda, a former member of the Young Right and editor of Combat and subsequently editor of a new journal called Idées, enlisted Gravier’s support to instil the National Revolution ‘in French minds as well as institutions’ (Couzon 2003, 85; Guyader 2006; Mazgaj 2007, 226). Gravier promptly contributed a short piece on ‘Youth and Revolution’ in which he stated: There will be no National Revolution if the youth of France in the 1940s does not conceive it, if it does not devote itself to the salvation and the historic

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destiny of France, and if it does not distinguish politically between friend and enemy. (Gravier 1941, 44)

Based in the section responsible for information and propaganda, Gravier became director of training and political orientation for future bureaucrats of the Vichy regime at the training school located at Le Mayet-de-Montagne in the Auvergne (Dard 2002, 69). This institution should not be confused with the better known Ecole des Cadres at Uriage near Grenoble (Paxton 1972, 165; Weber 1962, 446). At Le Mayet-de-Montagne, Gravier delivered lectures on topics that ranged from right-wing traditionalism to progressive religious teaching, received guest speakers and dealt with overall management (Hellman 1997, 147–8; Peschanski 1988, 645). Leaving the youth secretariat in November 1942 when the Germans occupied the ‘free zone’, Gravier joined the Fondation française pour l’étude des problèmes humains having been recommended by Perroux. This organization, popularly known as the ‘Fondation Alexis Carrel’ after its leader, had been founded in December 1941 to study ‘appropriate measures to safeguard, improve and develop the French population’, seeking ‘to manage its physiological, mental and social state’ (Couzon 2003, 84). Alexis Carrel (1873–1944) had trained in medicine at Lyon and moved to Chicago and then New York where he joined the Rockefeller Institute (Reggiani 2007). His pioneering work in heart surgery and organ transplantation won him a Nobel Prize in 1912. He spent most of his career in the United States where he strove to encourage the social sciences to catch up on intellectual progress achieved in the natural sciences. His wideranging research activities focused on the ‘improvement of the human race’ with numerous eugenicist overtones. In 1935 his popularizing book, L’Homme, cet inconnu (translated as Man, the unknown) brought his ideas to a wide audience on both sides of the Atlantic. The Rockefeller Foundation required his retirement on grounds of age and Carrel returned to France in 1941, where his subsequent installation was facilitated by the Vichy regime. His foundation was organized into several units, including the Department of Bio-Sociology that was directed by Perroux. Gravier was employed in this department and headed the Centre de synthèse régional (sometimes called the Centre d’études régionales) that investigated communities of economic specialization and functional regions focused on large towns in France. It also explored the

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potential of different areas to accommodate population and employment relocated from Paris and other congested regions, as well as devising various means to stimulate the economy of depopulated parts of the countryside (Couzon 1997, 15, citing F. Perroux, Rapport sur l’activité du département de Bio-Sociologie, 24 Dec 1943). With the help of fellow researchers at the Fondation Alexis Carrel, Gravier drew on economic principles he had been taught by Demangeon and advocated applying them to practical problems. In doing this work he operated in close cooperation with researchers at the Direction Général d’Equipement National who were investigating industrial decentralization (Couzon 2003, 85). At this time, series editor Perroux encouraged him to write a short book on Régions et Nation for the ‘People’s Library’ published by the Presses Universitaires de France (Gravier 1942). Gravier’s career at the Fondation Alexis Carrel demonstrated that he had talents for research and publicity that would be useful to the new Ministry of Reconstruction and Urban Planning (Ministère de Reconstruction et d’Urbanisme) that was set up in October 1944 by the provisional government of the French Republic under General de Gaulle. Possession of these technocratic qualities allowed Gravier to avoid official and unofficial punishment for his work for the Vichy regime during the purge (épuration) of collaborators with the Nazis that came at the end of the war. His name was put forward to Minister Raoul Dautry (1880–1951) by Jean Vergeot (1896–1970) who had been with him at the Fondation Alexis Carrel, and later assisted Jean Monnet in planning the recovery of the French economy (Pasquier 2003, 106). Despite his controversial past, from 1945 to 1949 Gravier worked first in the bureau of industrial decentralization (January to April 1945), then on zoning proposals for the reconstruction of war-torn areas, on the decongestion of Marseille and the management of the Durance basin in Provence and during 1947 on schemes for the future of the Paris region (Couzon 1997, 19). Documents conserved in the national archives that were drafted by Gravier in 1945 introduce ideas that he elaborated later. He insisted that ‘industrial dispersal is the first condition for rural renaissance, meaning it is a national necessity’ that must be devised in conjunction with national plans for transport and territorial planning (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945). The labour force also needed careful management, since:

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In 1945, we have the tragic fortune of having a floating population composed of several million displaced workers and refugees; this crowd of exiles must be installed in our dying regions (régions dévitalisées). A unique opportunity to re-establish social equilibrium in France will be lost if we let them drift together in suburban slums. (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945)

Combining anti-urbanism with fear of the consequences of allowing the proletariat to congregate in areas beyond bourgeois influence in a way that had typified much discourse about town and countryside since the nineteenth century, Gravier praised the countryside for its supposed virtues, but condemned industrial suburbs as a result of what he called: The drama of proletarian separation: uprooted people living in an inhuman landscape, in ‘reserves’ (quartiers reservés) where they have no more contact with urban culture than with rural culture. These social environments … give rise to moral impoverishment, boredom, isolation, revolt … A worker living in an exclusively working class area will never cease being a proletarian; the isolation of his class is inscribed in the social composition of that area. (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945)

Expanding this line of thought, Gravier argued that ‘war-torn zones must be rebuilt elsewhere, not in already industrialized areas but in regions where depopulation has followed the death of old manufactures’ (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Note sur la reconstruction industrielle, 1945). Future schemes for industrial extension needed to be controlled and ‘the expansion of companies employing over 50 workers must be forbidden in zones of industrial concentration (Paris, Lille, the northern coalfield, Lorraine, Bordeaux, Marseille, Rouen, etc). No war-torn factories must be rebuilt there’ (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945). Policies for industrial revival ‘must not tolerate lazy solutions. They must increase their potential by the greatest use of our raw materials – and the support of controlled immigration (immigration dirigée). They must respect the structure of our nation and bring a factory to each part of our territory, since this is the modern form of power and life’ (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945).

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It was at this time that Gravier was writing his most influential book, Paris et le désert français, which was completed in September 1947. It is conceivable that the memorable title may have been devised by the publisher rather than the author (Bastié 2006, 104; letter from Jean Robert, 30 Oct 2013). The book traced the emergence of the centralized administrative and political system of France, confronted this structure with problems of congestion in Paris and made policy proposals for decentralization. Partly on the strength of this publication, Gravier ‘the intellectual became an expert’ when he was appointed in 1950 to serve on the commission for national economic planning (Commissariat Général au Plan) (Dard 2012, 38; Gravier 1950a,b, 1956a,b, 1957). He continued to hold responsibilities in that organization for the next fifteen years. In 1958, he brought out an abbreviated and revised edition of Paris et le désert français that was pruned of its statistical detail. In December 1959 it was honoured by the Grand Prix Gobert of the Académie Française, and writer Maurice Genevoix (1890–1980) heralded it as ‘a masterpiece’ (Andréani 2008). In the same year, Gravier was appointed a member of the national economic and social council (Conseil Economique et Sociale) for a period of five years, holding special responsibility for regional economic development. The early 1960s brought significant change to Gravier’s personal and professional life. In 1963 he married Christiane Blanche Granier (née Martin), a widow. They had no children. In Gravier’s professional milieu, the policy climate in France was changing and Gravier’s ideas on ‘decongesting’ Paris and restraining – or reversing – its growth were increasingly at odds with a growing desire to enhance the size and role of Paris to enable it to achieve ‘world city’ status, and arguably the level of elitist prescription was also becoming unacceptable. As Olivier Dard remarked, this conflict of opinion ‘provoked the divorce between Gravier and the projects of the Vth Republic’ (Dard 2012, 35). His membership of the council came to an end in 1964, and his activity as a senior researcher and adviser was over. After a career in the civil service J.-F. Gravier accepted a teaching post at the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers, the leading engineering school in Paris. A chair in regional economic organization (later rebranded ‘territorial planning’) was created especially, and he assembled a few colleagues to work with him but he did not develop a ‘school’ of disciples. This was partly because his status was not equivalent to that of a chair in a state university since he

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had not undertaken a state doctorate, but had devoted his time to applied research. As he approached the end of his teaching career, he drew on his wide experience to present seminars to advanced students of urban and territorial planning at La Sorbonne–Université Paris IV (Bastié 2006, 105; pers. comm. Jean Robert, 30 Oct 2013). A rapprochement with institutional geography was accomplished in 1984 when the Société de Géographie de Paris awarded him the Prix Conrad Malte-Brun after his final book, L’Espace vital, appeared (Gravier 1983). (Gravier duly became a member of the society one year later.) Its past president, Jean Bastié (1915–2018), remembered him as ‘a quiet, efficient man and a reliable friend’ (Bastié 2006, 105). Gravier continued to write for a weekly economic journal, entitled La Vie française, for a few years before entering a long period of retirement when he divided his time between his apartment in Paris and his second home at Deauville on the Normandy coast. Jean-François Gravier died in Paris on 11 November 2005.

The published work of Jean-François Gravier J.-F. Gravier wrote almost a dozen books, many articles and a large number of reports for the French government and various planning agencies at home and abroad. His first book was the brief Régions et Nation that sought to investigate the ‘physiology’ of the French nation, thereby echoing the medical preoccupation of the Fondation Alexis Carrel (Gravier 1942, 1) and sharing the predilection of far-right polemicists of the period for using biological analogies and an implied political vitalism to make the phenomena they described appear ‘natural’ and thus inevitable, and opposition to them ‘unnatural’ and often morally suspect. In the book’s opening pages Gravier paid homage to Philippe Pétain as he declared: Nothing is truer than these words of the Maréchal: ‘Like the giant in the fable, France will find its strength again when it restores contact with the land’. Everything that separates France from its land and tears up the roots through which its vital forces flow can only be an element of weakness. Its inhuman cities and joyless towns … are simply a loss of vital substance. Every Frenchman should have his piece of land, his village, and his house. (8).

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Having proclaimed the anti-urban bias that was at the heart of Vichy propaganda, Gravier traced the development of historic provinces in France and identified fourteen functional regions around large cities. In anticipation of future writings, he insisted: France will only re-awake when its human, social and economic balance is re-established. Industrial concentration has killed old areas of small manufactures and craft activities. A dispersal of manufacturing, perfectly compatible with the modern economy, will revive these places. Falling birth rates have emptied poor agricultural areas, such as the Langres plateau, the Causses and parts of Provence, that have become frightful ‘deserts’. (8)

This text makes clear the far-right, and even neo-Fascist, roots of Gravier’s planning ideas which later, deracinated and politically sanitized, commanded widespread respect and interest in the nation and beyond it. It was Gravier’s second book, Paris et le désert français: décentralisation, équipement, population that made his reputation and with which his name is still associated by geographers and planners (Gravier 1947a). However, ‘a lot of people mention the title, without having read the book’ (pers. comm. Jean Robert, 30 Oct 2013). The text was written when Gravier was employed by the Fondation Alexis Carrel and then by the Ministère de la Reconstruction et de l’Urbanisme. It was drafted in response to an invitation from the Centre d’Etudes Institutionnelles pour l’Organisation de la Société that was founded in October 1944 and became known as ‘La Fédération’ (Pasquier 2003, 103). Headed by André Voisin (1912–90), a former member of the far-right Action Française whom Gravier knew from the 1930s, and by Jacques Bassot (1907– 96), a Catholic industrialist, the Fédération provided a forum for politicians of various persuasions to exchange views. It sought to promote an administrative structure that favoured local initiatives rather than a centralized, all-powerful state but, paradoxically, it also looked forward to the creation of a Europe-wide federation of states. Paris et le désert français appeared in October 1947 as the first title in the ‘Homme et la Cité’ series launched by the Portulan publishing house under the direction of Bassot. Gravier summarized his main argument in an article for La Fédération journal with the eye-catching title ‘The congested brain of France’, which developed an assertion by Albert Demangeon that the rich, powerful, decision-making ‘head’ of France in the form of Paris had

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become too big and congested for the ‘body’ of the French nation (Gravier 1947b, citing Demangeon 1933, 61). Running to more than four hundred pages, Paris et le désert français was dedicated to the memory of Gaston Gravier (‘A la mémoire de mon père’). In a lengthy preface, former minister Raoul Dautry explained that in order to steer post-war revival he needed the services of a geographer at the Ministère de la Reconstruction et de l’Urbanisme to work alongside town planners, economists, urban conservationists and agricultural experts. He understood geography to be ‘spatial location and synthesis’ and argued that such a cohesive approach was necessary for planning national recovery (Dautry in Gravier 1947a, 90). He maintained that geography was also ‘the science – we may also say the art – of landscape’, and then cited Gravier’s own formula that geography was ‘an art at the confluence of several sciences’ (90). Employing the medical and biological metaphors that far-right polemicists and politicians often fell back on, Dautry noted the ‘pernicious illness’ that had emptied the French countryside of many of its people over the preceding half-century, and argued that ‘new sap’ was needed ‘to be infused in the anaemic countryside by a judicious dispersal of employment’ (8, 9). Once again quoting Gravier, he saw Paris as a ‘monster’ with ‘disastrous industrial aneurisms’ that kept hold of jobs in the capital rather than allowing them to be dispersed to the provinces (11). With its congestion and pollution, urban life – especially in Paris – led to ‘a veritable sterilisation of the masses it attracted [and] transformed our countryside into a desert’ (12). Dautry noted that Gravier ‘deliberately avoided advocating “a return to the land”’, as the Vichy regime had done, for this ‘would be too simple and dangerous, moreover impossible’ in the drive for post-war recovery and modernization (13). Rather, he proposed that ‘the landscape of a new France be constructed’ as part of ‘an optimistic geography’ of a planned future (13). Paris et le désert français deals first with problems and then offers proposals for improvement. Gravier defined his main objective as reorganizing the nation to achieve ‘the optimal distribution of people and employment’, and then quoted geographical monographs to show that two-thirds of France, composed of ‘cells, tissues and organs’, was ‘dying slowly’ (17, 25, 32). This point was reinforced by reference to a detailed map of population change (by canton) between 1851 and 1936 that showed extensive stretches of

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depopulation. Paris, Lyon, Marseille and the Côte d’Azur had attracted large numbers of migrants but, once they had settled there, their reproduction rates plummeted. Quoting a citation from demographer Alfred Sauvy (1898–1990) that he would use on many occasions, it seemed that ‘cities were the grave of humankind’ (81). In fact, this phrase originated not in the twentieth century but in the eighteenth when philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–78) had declared: ‘Cities are the grave of humankind. After several generations, mankind will perish or degenerate; it must be renewed, and it is always the countryside that provides this renewal’ (cited by Marchand 2001, 243). Gravier depicted Paris as nothing short of ‘a demographic disaster’, for the moment an ambitious provincial ‘boarded the train in his distant village, he had already made the choice between children and money’ (Gravier 1947a, 105, 108). During the nineteenth century, the capital had become not only the political focus of France but also its pre-eminent intellectual, cultural and manufacturing core. During and after the First World War new automobile and aeronautical industries reinforced its hegemony, and created enormous costs for urban and suburban housing, public transport and food supply. Writing in 1933, Demangeon asked: Is this urban concentration going to increase even more? Is it good that this should happen? Is it good that this kind of ‘colonial town’ should extend itself and devour our country folk? … Is there not a risk that one day this great head will become too heavy for the country to remain in balance? And would we not wish that our villages and hamlets were no longer dying and allowing the plethoric head to become even greater? (Demangeon 1933, 61, cited by Gravier 1947a, 195)

Having identified the spatial imbalance of France and its declining demography in the early twentieth century, Gravier made a case for selective immigration, arguing that some elements (especially those from western and northern Europe) were ‘particularly precious, whilst others were frankly undesirable’ (222). He asserted that migrants from the Middle East were ‘generally inassimilable [in French society] and tended to be parasites on the economy. By contrast, Indochinese and Chinese might provide a temporary workforce’ (224). Algerians from Kabylia were considered to be ‘excellent farmers but should be grouped together in depopulated villages’ in France

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(224). He was by no means exempt from contemporary racist discourses, ranking people in terms of their desirability and seeing their value only in the use to France: Indochinese and Chinese migrants were welcomed as temporary workers, for example, to be rejected once they had served their purpose. In addition to controlling the labour force, the state needed to achieve ‘sustainable decentralization: a balanced distribution of activities that would require profound changes in transportation [and] the constitution of regional organizations capable of exerting their attractive force against that of Paris’ (250). Building on ideas in Régions et Nation, Gravier identified sixteen functional regions, and recommended merging the nation’s smallest administrative units (communes) into fewer, larger units. He argued that no new housing should be built in Paris, Lyon or Marseille for a period of ten years; war-torn cities of less than a hundred thousand inhabitants should be given priority in reconstruction; the building of new housing should be linked to decentralization of work away from Paris; and dilapidated rural housing should be restored to retain people in the countryside. The overwhelming attraction of the Université de Paris should be lessened by building more provincial universities, with Aix-en-Provence and Poitiers being appropriate for expansion as a kind of equivalent to Oxford and Cambridge (266). Other ideas embraced improvements to railways, highways and canals, and the promotion of tourism since ‘three-quarters of France was underdeveloped’ in this respect (269). However, it was the decentralization of manufacturing away from Paris that held pride of place in Gravier’s reasoning for ‘rebalancing’ the spatial structure of France. Gravier maintained that important progress had been made under very different political regimes in Germany, the United States and the United Kingdom, and that during the 1930s a government policy for siting France’s new aeronautical factories far from the vulnerable frontier with Germany had relocated jobs and boosted the economy of parts of south-western France, especially around Toulouse. However, this action was insufficient and now ‘the objective of a national industrial policy is to run parallel with the post-war revival of France’s manufacturing and the renaissance of her deficient regions’ (296). Gravier’s vision ranged more widely than the decongestion of selected industrial areas that had been advocated by Gabriel Dessus (1898–1976) and his team working for the Direction Général d’Equipement National in the first

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half of the 1940s (Dessus, George and Weulersse 1949). Gravier stressed that relocating industrial work in the provinces and the countryside would have many economic and social advantages. Families would enjoy healthier living conditions and would – he believed – have more children than their urban counterparts; workers would cultivate gardens and be able to grow some of their food; and the local tax base would be enhanced by larger numbers of residents. Widespread car ownership was not envisaged at this time, hence special bus services would be needed to carry workers from home to factory. Gravier insisted that part of the Parisian workforce would leave the capital because of the advantages of provincial living, but if these proved to be insufficient then ‘Parisian privileges’, such as subsidised public transport, should be withdrawn to make metropolitan life less attractive (Gravier 1947b, 349). Through the outworking of these ideas, the nation would acquire ‘a new landscape’, with ‘a return to equilibrium providing two-thirds of France with a return to life. But this would … require twelve to fifteen years of precise and methodical work to execute a programme of equipment and resettlement of our “deficient regions”’ (352) and very considerable central state control over economic and social activity. Gravier devoted the final part of his book to the notion of l’aménagement du territoire (territorial planning) across France as a whole, and within each of the functional regions that he had identified. He insisted that sector by sector planning of the national economy in ‘a vertical perspective’ was insufficient and that ‘a horizontal perspective’ was required that ‘considered the resources and possibilities of each regional economy’ within their specific territory and set in the framework of the nation as a whole (355). He proceeded to sketch out this idea for each provincial region and then focused attention on the challenge of managing ‘the Parisian monster’ (391). Measures should be devised to halt migration from the provinces ‘as completely as possible’; to encourage higher metropolitan birth rates; to reduce industrial employment through relocation; to remodel housing in order to provide playing space for children; and to relocate some inner-city employment to the suburbs and thereby reduce commuting (391). In addition, decentralization of certain administrative and educational functions should reduce the relative importance of the capital city in the nation. He argued that only when ‘renaissance of the provinces’ had reduced the population of Greater Paris from 13 per cent to 10 per cent of the

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national total might ‘a very slow growth, to be controlled through housing policy’ be considered in the capital (400). Gravier then related a ‘parable’ of a landowner that farmed his property at decreasing intensity with greater distance from the farmhouse, and left his remote land uncultivated. He argued that this man would be judged ‘lacking in energy, imagination and economic intelligence’ and that a comparable situation should not be accepted across the provinces of France (403). Instead, there should be a kind of ‘methodical internal colonization … within a planned economy [économie dirigée] that embraces the rational use of productive possibilities, and supposes the rational distribution of labour. A planned economy requires a planned distribution of population [peuplement dirigé]’ (404). In his opinion, with the implementation of a planned economy, operating in concert with l’aménagement du territoire (within each region and across the whole nation), it would be possible to reclaim ‘the French desert [since] each region would have its chance of success, provided that it had the right population’ (404). Ultimately, he concluded, using further moralized, vitalist language, the French nation had to choose ‘between decadence and renaissance, between the spread of the desert and internal colonization, and between progressive decomposition of the national community and revival; it must choose, once and for all, not through words but through deeds’ (414). Gravier made this case when he was thirty-two years of age and in later books he reframed his argument in the light of changing circumstances. In Mise en valeur de la France, he demonstrated that much of France was underdeveloped when compared with other parts of western Europe, and maintained that ‘Paris has not grown with France but at the expense of the provinces, that is to say against France’ (Gravier 1949, 91). L’aménagement du territoire, functional regions, a measure of regional decision making and a commitment to provincial industrialization were advocated as means of improvement. Gravier insisted: ‘New accommodation should be limited in environments unfavourable to family life, namely in Paris and the great cities … It would be criminal to increase the housing capacity of greater Paris’ (170). Explicit reference was made to the work of Etienne Clémentel (1864–1936) and Henri Hauser (1866–1946) in defining regions, and examples of rural decline were given from the Ardennes, which was his mother’s birthplace, and from the area around Neufchâteau (Vosges), from which his paternal family originated

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(257). Unlike its predecessor that lacked supporting references, Mise en valeur de la France listed many official publications and works by geographers and economists. In a later book entitled Décentralisation et progrès technique, Gravier explored the relations between economic geography and economic history using the distinction made by Lewis Mumford (1895–1990) between eotechnic, palaeotechnic and neotechnic phases of development (Gravier 1954). He assembled his argument in a novel way by presenting over a hundred short texts, each of which was accompanied by at least one map or diagram. This device was judged by one reviewer to be very useful for students, and another concluded that ‘this argumentative book will be appreciated by all who support intelligent regionalism’ (Beaujeu-Garnier 1954, 125; Veyret-Verner 1954, 581). In 1958 Gravier reverted to his original title, Paris et le désert français, but unfortunately Flammarion printed ‘1947’ as the date of publication causing confusion among booksellers, librarians and readers (Gravier 1958). Familiar themes were repackaged in this consolidated text, and a greater case was made for a number of responsibilities to be allocated to functional regions despite the fact that they had not yet been designated officially. Attention was directed to the outworking of the first national economic plan (the so-called Monnet Plan) for reviving and modernizing the French economy, and the creation in 1950 of the modest Fonds National d’Aménagement du Territoire to help finance provincial industrial estates. Gravier defined l’aménagement du territoire as ‘an art at the confluence of geography, social psychology, town planning and technology’ that had the dual aim of: encouraging the spatial distribution of people and jobs in harmony with the distribution of resources of all kinds (agriculture, energy, raw materials, transport, tourism potential), [and] proposing a balanced structure of human communities, namely a kind of economic and social diversity that avoids the predominance of sectors in recession, limits the risk of crisis, and permits intellectual and material exchange’. (183)

Within this vision, the population of the capital needed to be controlled ‘by limiting opportunities for work in the city and offering jobs and housing outside the Paris region’ (233). Central Paris required remodelling ‘to avoid total asphyxia’, and some of its activities relocated to the suburbs where modern shopping, administrative and educational facilities could be built (239).

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In 1964 Gravier broadened the scope of his discussion by incorporating examples from parts of Europe in L’Aménagement du territoire et l’avenir des régions (Gravier 1964). Six years later, he focused on several dimensions of La Question régionale, namely, the challenge of definition; the issue of allocating certain public powers from the centralized state; the election of regional councils; the implementation of cohesive territorial management in each region, in conformity with a nationwide territorial plan; and the need ‘to rediscover a sense of regional personality rooted in landscape and history’ (Gravier 1970, 7). Gravier attacked proposals in the Paris master plan that advocated new towns be constructed around the capital, insisting that ‘the gigantism of this anarchy diametrically contradicts the declarations of l’aménagement du territoire, and the decentralization of industries and tertiary activities implemented by past governments’ (213). He concluded by arguing that France would be improved if its people faced up to two very different but complementary challenges that were posed by ‘European union and regional emancipation’ (233). Remarking that ‘no book by J.-F. Gravier leaves one indifferent’, geographer Philippe Pinchemel (1923–2008) reckoned La Question régionale to be ‘a useful, accessible book that is full of good sense’, adding wryly that ‘such qualities are not always found in the world of planning’ (Pinchemel 1971, 722, 723) (on Pinchemel see Geographers 29). Appearing in 1971, Economie et organisation régionales belonged to a series of pedagogic texts in which Gravier discussed regional change through time, planning policies for specific economic sectors and regional organization in France and abroad (Gravier 1971). In Paris et le désert français en 1972 Gravier reviewed how l’aménagement du territoire had been practised over the preceding quarter century, including schemes to equip and stimulate provincial cities, to control the capital and then to steer the growth of the Paris region (Gravier 1972). The latter set of projects stirred his anger, since ‘the triumphant capital has become a suffering capital. The megalopolis has become a “conglomeration” whose monstrous character should require a thorough revision of the master plan of 1964 and the planning documents that it inspired’ (241). Assessing what France and her European neighbours had done to reduce spatial inequalities, he concluded: The remedy consists in replacing our unequal society with one that reconciles nature and mankind, a society founded on ecological balance, a society in which all parts – from individual localities to Europe – will work

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in solidarity and respond to the ambition of creating a better life. Then Paris would no longer be absorbed by its ‘colonial’ ambitions, but would turn toward serving the nation, and everywhere the French desert would come into flower. (277)

Gravier’s final book, L’Espace vital: du paradis terrestre à l’aménagement du territoire, glanced as far back as the Neolithic revolution before focusing on a dozen contemporary challenges to ‘living space’ that ranged from managing water supply and recreation space to planning functional regions and world cities, complementing French examples with experience drawn from across the globe (Gravier 1984). Reviewers praised his depth of knowledge about France but felt that little was gained from the rapid overview of other countries (Benassi 1984, 185; Voldman 1984, 162).

Impact of the work of Jean-François Gravier Despite the enthusiastic preface written by former minister Raoul Dautry, Paris et le désert français attracted little attention when its print run of three thousand appeared in 1947. In its weekly supplement of 25 October 1947, Le Monde described it as ‘a remarkable book’, but its publication was ignored by geographical periodicals (Andréani 2008). One can only speculate why this might have been so. Perhaps Le Portulan failed to dispatch review copies, or alternatively journal editors might have felt that this work from a small publisher would not interest their readership, since it was neither a doctoral monograph nor a textbook by a schoolteacher or a university professor. Gravier’s activities for the Vichy regime might have made him unwelcome among certain scholars. By contrast, the Institut National d’Etudes Démographiques, which originated in the Fondation Alexis Carrel, reviewed the book with a minimum of delay (Reggiani 2007). The reviewer, ‘L.C.’, was almost certainly demographerhistorian Louis Chevalier (1911–2001). He was impressed by the ‘ease and talent’ whereby Gravier ‘considered economic and social questions and matters of health’, but could ‘not entirely agree with his programme for industrial location’ (L.C. 1947, 816). Chevalier maintained that, ‘given the present state of our population, it does not seem possible to envisage the industrialization of almost entirely depopulated areas or to decree, in an authoritarian way, a

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massive transfer of factories and manpower’ (816). Gravier’s project appeared ‘utopian’ and would have to contend with many social factors that obstructed effective decentralization. The reviewer concluded that the book was ‘inspired by high ideals and a useful wish to provoke a change in direction that might, however, be developed by more realistic plans for provincial industrialization such as those advanced by Gabriel Dessus and his team, to which Chevalier had belonged (816; Barjot 2002, 10). Almost three years after Gravier’s book appeared, the historical journal Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations carried a brief review by ‘L.F.’, most probably its editor Lucien Febvre (1878– 1956) (on Febvre see Geographers 23). The reviewer condemned the title as ‘bad and obscure’ and doubted whether it would arouse the curiosity of readers (L.F. 1950, 384). Nonetheless, the book was ‘full of attraction, spirit and generosity, containing a firm argument that France should be better inhabited, better balanced and more efficient’ (384). On these grounds he recommended it to historians and geographers, since it ‘is innovative and generates healthy, dynamic anger’ (384–5). When French geographers eventually came to acknowledge Gravier’s early books, they reviewed them in fewer than a dozen lines (Beaujeu-Garnier 1957, 130; Gibert 1957, 173). Gravier attributed the eventual success of the first edition of Paris et le désert français to the actions of a few individuals who were close to La Fédération (Pasquier 2003, 14). Thierry Maulnier (1909–88), whom Gravier knew when they were both involved with Combat, wrote an encouraging, if rather belated, editorial about the book in Le Monde of April 1948 (Maulnier 1948). PierreArmand Thiébaut passed a copy to député Eugène Claudius-Petit (1907–89) who read out sections in the National Assembly with real conviction. In September 1948, Claudius-Petit became minister for reconstruction and urbanism and introduced measures based on Gravier’s ideas over the next five years, despite initial reluctance among some politicians and members of the general public (Pouvreau 2003, 48). In February 1950 Claudius-Petit issued a brochure entitled ‘Pour un plan national d’aménagement du territoire’ that made the case for a national system of ‘horizontal’ spatial planning to complement ‘vertical’ planning of economic sectors that had been introduced in 1946. In August 1950 Claudius-Petit initiated a national fund for territorial planning that enabled industrial estates to be built. Between 1950 and 1954, sixty decentralization operations by the national government created 27,000

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jobs in the provinces, with spatial planning having become part of ‘the psychological climate’ (Pouvreau 2003, 48). In January 1955 a decree required official permission to be obtained before new industrial premises exceeding 500 square metres might be constructed in the Paris region. Later that year, grants and tax incentives were introduced to encourage companies to locate factories away from the capital, with the highest rates of support available in areas of high unemployment. Regional development corporations and schemes to decentralize branches of the civil service and higher education proliferated in the late 1950s and early 1960s in harmony with Gravier’s recommendations (Frémont, Allemand and Heurgon 2008; Merlin 2002). When the second edition of Paris et le désert français appeared in 1958 the Annales de Géographie received a copy but did not print a review (Engelhard 1959, 172). The new version gave an additional boost to Gravier’s decentralizing ideas but five years later the national government introduced two opposing innovations. The Délégation à l’aménagement du territoire et à l’action régionale promoted his philosophy, but the master plan from the national government for the ‘District de la région de Paris’, headed by Paul Delouvrier (1914–95), rejected the idea of controlling the capital and envisaged its possible growth from 8.4 million inhabitants in 1962 to 14 million at the end of the twentieth century. This quest for world-city gigantism was exactly the reverse of what Gravier proposed. After initial sympathies with Gravier, Delouvrier ‘rejected the idea of Paris and the French desert. He refused to consider that France had too large a head and that Paris was too big … Convinced in 1962 that future growth was necessary in the Paris region, Delouvrier rejected Gravier and his analysis in 1963 [and] Gravier was progressively demonised as an expert’ (Dard 2012, 38–9). The two contradictory policies co-existed in subsequent years, with the scope of l’aménagement du territoire being widened, as Gravier recommended, but Paris having its constraints on growth removed and a ring of satellite cities being constructed. Under the Socialist administration of the 1980s, elected regional assemblies came into being and strengthened the political voice of the provinces as Gravier wished, but the grands projets of President François Mitterrand (1916–96) reinforced the grandeur and prestige of the capital (Merlin 2002). For two decades after its appearance, Paris et le désert français was revered as a kind of ‘prayer book’ or even ‘bible’ by French planners and by students

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who were taught the theory and practice of l’aménagement du territoire in geography departments in French universities (Marchand 2001, 234). Implementation of spatial planning at the national level, controls on the growth of Paris, decentralization of employment, designation of functional regions around provincial ‘growth poles’, creation of elected regional assemblies and many other features reflected Gravier’s ideas. Forty years after the appearance of Gravier’s text, urban geographer Marcel Roncayolo (1926–2018) offered a densely argued critique. The title of the book, proposing a stark contrast between Paris and provincial France, was recognized as ‘intentionally provocative’ since: It tended to mix together facts of civil society and administrative organization, with aspects of industrial centralization and concentration … This approach prevented an analysis of the components of Parisian supremacy in the major disequilibrium of France. It also prevented, other than by demographic indicators, a specification of the flagrant differences within the ‘French desert’ … Gravier’s book associated logical assumptions, such as the movement of industrial firms to regions of demographic surplus, with more contestable claims that worked toward distributive justice … A certain confusion arose between spatial planning [of the whole of France] and policies for each functional region. (Roncayolo 1989, 605–6)

According to geographer Jean-Robert Pitte (b. 1949), on the positive side Gravier’s book challenged the political dominance of the capital that led to decentralization legislation in 1982–3, but on the negative side it oversimplified explanations for backwardness in the provinces, treating Paris as a ‘scapegoat and failing to acknowledge the city’s role as a symbol of the French nation throughout the world’ (Pitte 2002, 139). The hatred of urban life – ‘urbaphobia’ – that underlay Gravier’s proposals was rarely explored until recently (Provost 1999). In 1994 a Senate report on spatial planning quoted his work approvingly, and three years after his death Le Monde reported his ideas rather uncritically, declaring that Paris et le désert français ‘is more than a work of reference since it remains a witness, a symbol of the revolt against an unbalanced France, with an overwhelming capital– region where everything happened and the sleepy, boring provinces that made talented people leave for the “City of Light”’ (Andréani 2008). Since the turn of the century, attention has been directed to the antecedents of Gravier’s

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anti-urban bias as well as the ambiguities in his argument. His concern to revive rural life by attacking large cities, to strengthen the provinces at the expense of Paris and to decentralize employment to achieve these ends was in line with earlier far-right thinking and policies introduced by officers of the Vichy regime. Like them, Gravier drew on the ideas of far-right authorities such as Charles Maurras (1868–1952) in proclaiming the virtues of the family, rural life, regionalism and tradition. In so doing, he followed the myth that praised the royalist ancien régime and attributed the rapid growth of Paris – and relative weakening of the provinces – to revolutionary and imperial centralization after 1789. His promotion of the notion of l’aménagement du territoire came after Vichy’s Service de l’Equipement was reformulated in 1943 as the Direction de l’Aménagement to distribute public investment according to pre-determined ideas rather than scattering funds to equip existing localities. In the opinion of geographer-planner Bernard Marchand (b. 1934), official policies for spatial planning – influenced by Gravier’s writings – ‘tried to maintain population in the countryside by investing where there were few inhabitants, and hence neglected, sometimes wilfully, the needs of cities and their suburbs’ (Marchand 2001, 243). Despite its forceful style, direct language and memorable metaphors, Paris et le désert français was not free of ambiguities and weaknesses. Gravier referred repeatedly to ‘balance’ and ‘equilibrium’, and employs such adjectives as ‘optimal’ and ‘excessive’ without ever defining these terms. Unlike his precise use of census data to generate detailed maps of the ‘French desert’ reminiscent of those in the Atlas de France, his manipulation of demographic variables, such as rates of net reproduction and infant mortality, is less convincing (Archives Nationales Fontainebleau 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945). Urban death rates were certainly higher than in rural areas in the past – something which fuelled an early anti-urbanism that Gravier extended to the present; but by the twentieth century the demographic situation had changed and cities were healthier than the countryside (Marchand 2001, 237). According to Marchand: ‘The author plays with words that he does not define and with quotations that he does not hesitate to distort, and commits grave errors that prove an astonishing ignorance of such fields as economics’ (236). It is not without irony that J.-F. Gravier presented himself as ‘an economist’ in Who’s Who in France.

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Gravier had a mercantilist view that overall employment figures were rather fixed so that employment growth in the provinces had to be at the expense of employment in Paris or other large cities. In his schemes for spatial planning he emphasized manufacturing as a source of employment (showing that he cannot be simplistically categorized as an anti-urban advocate of farming and ‘back to the land’), but downplayed the importance of service activities and administration, dismissing these as being parasitic on the productive economy. He praised the virtues of regionalism and of reducing the role of the central state, without acknowledging that programmes for defining functional regions, allocating responsibilities to them, decentralizing employment, filtering immigrants and many other actions were possible only if there were a strong central power. Having declared the capital to be an evil genius determined to ruin the provinces, he conflated Paris as a place with Paris as the locus of centralized power (as well as an animate being with a will and consciousness of its own and an appropriate target for moral reprobation). In his own words: Greater Paris has not behaved like a metropolis that energizes its hinterland but like a monopoly company that devours the substance of the nation. Its action stimulated the first industrial revolution and sterilized most provincial economies, depriving them of their dynamic elements. With regard to decision making, creativity and high-order services, Paris confiscated the leading activities and left the rest of France to play a subordinate role. This absolute dependence resembles that of a colonial regime. (Gravier 1947a, 60)

Despite the many criticisms raised in recent years against Gravier’s work, few would disagree that the title of his major book was a stroke of genius, setting ‘Paris’ in opposition to ‘France’ and raising the alarming spectre of a rural ‘desert’ spreading across the nation’s provinces.

Conclusion Gaston and Jean-François Gravier both trained as geographers. Gaston was highly productive but died on the battlefield before reaching the age of thirty. His voluminous corpus of writing on Serbia is now largely forgotten. His son, Jean-François, was long-lived and produced work that influenced French

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planners and ‘applied geographers’ for a couple of decades. Linking the two lives was the formative teaching of Albert Demangeon at the University of Lille before the First World War and then at the Sorbonne in Paris. Demangeon counted Gaston among his friends as well as among his students. In the second half of the 1930s, Jean-François was inspired by his professor’s courses and in the 1940s went on to convert some of Demangeon’s scholarly ideas into policies for territorial planning. Paris et le désert français (1947) made J.-F. Gravier’s reputation, with subsequent editions and his other books selling well among students, planners and members of the educated general public. Translations of some of his works took the notion of l’aménagement du territoire into southern Europe. Many of his initial assumptions have been challenged recently. It is ironic that this proponent of decentralization ‘rarely left the 7th arrondissement of central Paris’ (Pitte 2002, 319), and that an advocate of natalism should die childless.

Acknowledgements I extend my thanks to Rory Hill, Jean Robert, Ian Thompson and the staff of the Centre de Documentation de l’Urbanisme at La Défense and of the 14–18 Memorial Museum at Souchez for help and encouragement.

Bibliography and sources 1. References on Gaston Gravier and his works Anon. (1919), ‘Les frontières historiques de la Serbie’, Geographical Review 8, 136. Brunhes, J. (1914), ‘La géographie de l’histoire, introduction à la seconde année du cours de géographie humaine’, Revue de Géographie 8, 1–70. Chevrier, F. (1951), ‘Biographie vosgienne: Gaston Gravier’, La Liberté de l’Est, 10 May. Clout, H. (2003), ‘In the shadow of Vidal de La Blache: Albert Demangeon and the social dynamics of French geography in the early twentieth century’, Journal of Historical Geography 29, 336–55. Demangeon, A. (1915), ‘Gaston Gravier: Nécrologie’, Annales de Géographie 23, 454–8. Demangeon, A. (1924), ‘Gaston Gravier’, in Association des Ecrivains Combattants, Anthologie des écrivains morts à la guerre, 1914–1918. Amiens: Hérisson, 324–31.

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Demangeon, A. (1933), Paris, la ville et sa banlieue. Paris: Bourrelier. Freeman, T. W. (1967), The Geographer’s Craft. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 72–100. Ginsburger, N. (2010), ‘La guerre, la plus terrible des érosions: Cultures de guerre et géographes universitaires, France–Allemagne, Etats-Unis, 1914–1921’. Doctoral thesis in contemporary history, Université de Paris Ouest-Nanterre. Ginsburger, N. (2015), ‘Les Balkans avec ou sans Cvijić’, in P. Clerc and M.-C. Robic (eds.), Des géographes hors-les-murs? Paris: L’Harmattan, 323–52. Haumant, E. (1919a), ‘Les frontières historiques de la Serbie, d’après Gaston Gravier’, Annales de Géographie 28, 144–7. Haumant, E. (1919b), ‘Avertissement’, in G. Gravier, Les Frontières historiques de la Serbie. Paris: Armand Colin, 1–2. Peurey, H. (2008), ‘Représentations nationales et territoriales dans la géographie des Balkans de la première moitié du XXe siècle, dualité professionnelle et engagement: L’exemple de deux géographes français: Gaston Gravier (1886–1915) et Yves Châtaigneau (1891–1969)’, Masters dissertation, Géographie, Université de Paris 1. Peurey, H. (2015), ‘Gaston Gravier, 1886–1915, et Yves Châtaigneau, 1891–1969: Les Balkans comme identité professionnelle?’, in P. Clerc and M.-C. Robic (eds.), Des géographes hors-les-murs? Paris: L’Harmattan, 301–21. The Collection Perpillou–Demangeon in the Bibliothèque Mazarine in Paris contains various letters sent to Albert Demangeon that relate to Gaston Gravier. The mairie at Givronne in the Ardennes contains information about Claire Derulle.

2. Works by Gaston Gravier 1910 ‘La plaine lorraine’, Annales de Géographie 19, 440–55. 1911a ‘L’émigration des Musulmans de Bosnie–Herzégovine’, Revue de Paris, 1 Jan, 213–24. 1911b ‘La question agraire en Bosnie-Herzégovine’, Questions Diplomatiques et Coloniales 32, 668–82. 1911c ‘La vieille Serbie et les Albanais’, Revue de Paris, 1 Nov, 201–23. 1911d ‘L’émancipation économique de la Serbie’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale de Paris 33, 417–31. 1912a ‘La presse yougoslave’, Questions Diplomatiques et Coloniales, 1 July, 13–17. 1912b ‘Le développement économique de la Serbie’, Annales de Géographie 21, 50–6. 1913a ‘La nouvelle Serbie’, Revue de Paris 15 November, 417–48. 1913b ‘L’Albanie et ses limites’, Revue de Paris 1 January, 200–24; 15 January, 433–48.

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1913c ‘Données statistiques pour la Bosnie-Herzégovine’, Annales de Géographie 22, 466–8. 1913d ‘Le Sandžak de Novi Pazar’, Annales de Géographie 22, 41–67. 1913e ‘The Sanjak of Novibazar’, Geographical Journal 41, 468–73. 1913f ‘Relationship between relief and settlement in the Šumadija’ (in Serbian), Bulletin of the Serbian Geographical Society 2, 265–75. 1914a ‘Recensement préliminaire de la population dans les nouveaux territoires serbes’, Annales de Géographie 23, 87–9. 1914b ‘Density of population in Serbia’ (in Serbian), Bulletin of the Serbian Geographical Society 3–4, 32–8. 1919 Les Frontières historiques de la Serbie. Paris: Armand Colin. (Reprinted 2010 by Nabu Press, Charleston, South Carolina, and 2016 by Wentworth Press, Sydney, Australia.) 1920 ‘La plaine dans la région vosgienne’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie de Lille 62, 107–29, 141–64, 217–46. 1921 ‘La Choumadia’, Annales de Géographie 30, 271–87, 351–61.

3. References on Jean-François Gravier and his intellectual milieu Andréani, J.-L. (2008), ‘Un hommage du Monde à Jean-François Gravier’, Le Monde 16 August. Barjot, D. (2002), ‘Préface’, in P. Caro, O. Dard and J.-C. Daumas (eds), La Politique d’aménagement du territoire: Racines, logiques et résultats. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 65–77. Bastié, J. (2006), ‘Jean-François Gravier, 1915–2005’, Acta Geographica 1520, 104–5. Couzon, I. (1997), ‘La place de la ville dans le discours des aménageurs du début des années 1920 à la fin des années 1960’, Cybergeo 37, 1–29. Couzon, I. (2001), ‘La figure de l’expert–géographe au miroir de la politique d’aménagement du territoire en France, 1942–1950’, in G. Baudelle, M.-V. OzoufMarignier and M.-C. Robic (eds), Géographes en pratiques, 1870–1945. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 159–71. Couzon, I. (2003), ‘“Les espaces économiques” de François Perroux: Organisation de l’espace et aménagement du territoire dans l’économie et la géographie française au milieu du XXe siècle’, Revue d’Histoire des Sciences Humaines 9, 81–102. Dard, O. (2002), ‘La construction progressive d’un discours et d’un milieu aménageur des années 30 au début des années 50’, in P. Caro, O. Dard and J.-C. Daumas (eds), La Politique d’aménagement du territoire: racines, logiques et résultats. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 65–77.

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Dard, O. (2012), ‘L’autre régionalisation: Jean-François Gravier au tournant des années 1960 et 1970’, Pour Mémoire numéro hors série, 36–41. Drouard, A. (1992), Une inconnue des sciences sociales: La Fondation Alexis Carrel. Paris: Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme. Frémont, A., Allemand, S. and Heurgon, E., eds. (2008), Aménagement du territoire: Changement de temps, changement d’espace. Caen: Presses Universitaires de Caen. Guyader, A. (2006), La Revue Idées 1941–1944: Des non-conformistes en Révolution nationale. Paris: L’Harmattan. Hellman, J. (1997), The Knight–Monks of Vichy France, Uriage, 1940–45. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Kessler, N. (2001), Histoire politique de la Jeune Droite, 1929–1942. Paris: L’Harmattan. Marchand, B. (2001), ‘La haine de la ville: “Paris et le désert français” de JeanFrançois Gravier’, L’Information Géographique 65, 234–53. Marchand, B. (2009), Les Ennemis de Paris: La haine de la grande ville des Lumières à nos jours. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Marchand, B. and Cavin, J. S. (2007), ‘Anti-urban ideologies and planning in France and Switzerland: Jean-François Gravier and Armin Meili’, Planning Perspectives 22, 29–53. Mazgaj, P. (2007), Imagining Fascism: The Cultural Politics of the French Young Right, 1930–1945. Newark: University of Delaware Press. Merlin, P. (2002), L’Aménagement du territoire. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Pasquier, R. (2003), ‘L’invention de la régionalisation à la française, 1950–1964’, Revue Française de Science Politique 53, 101–25. Paxton, R. O. (1972), Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944. New York: Columbia University Press. Peschanski, D. (1988), ‘Vichy au singulier, Vichy au pluriel. Une tentative avortée d’encadrement de la société, 1941–1942’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 43, 639–61. Pitte, J.-R. (2002), Philippe Lamour, 1903–1992. Père de l’aménagement du territoire en France. Paris: Fayard. Pouvreau, B. (2003), ‘La politique d’aménagement du territoire d’Eugène ClaudiusPetit’, Vingtième Siècle 79, 43–52. Provost, I. (1999), ‘Paris et le désert français: histoire d’un mythe’, doctoral thesis in sociology, Université d’Evry–Val d’Essonne. Reggiani, A. H. (2007), God’s Eugenicist: Alexis Carrel and the Sociobiology of Decline. New York: Berghahn. Roncayolo, M. (1989), ‘L’aménagement du territoire, XVIIIe–XXe siècle, in A. Burguière and J. Revel (eds), Histoire de la France. L’espace français. Paris: Seuil, 509–643.

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Weber, E. (1962), Action Française: Royalism and Reaction in Twentieth-Century France. Stanford: Stanford University Press. The Collection contemporaine of the Archives Nationales at Fontainebleau houses papers relating to the Ministère de Reconstruction et d’Urbanisme including two typewritten reports by J.-F. Gravier: 790657/1, Reconstruction et dispersion industrielle, 1945; and Note sur la reconstruction industrielle.

4. Selected works by Jean-François Gravier 1942 Régions et nation. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France 1947a Paris et le désert français: Décentralisation, équipement, population. Paris: Le Portulan. 1947b ‘Congestion cérébrale de la France ’, La Fédération 33, 16–18. 1949 Mise en valeur de la France. Paris: Le Portulan. 1950a ‘Productivité et population’, Population 5, 301–10. 1950b ‘Le plan Monnet et le relèvement économique de la France’, Revue Administrative 13, 6–10. 1954 Décentralisation et progrès technique. Paris: Flammarion. 1956a ‘Problèmes de la région parisienne’, Revue Economique 7, 971–7. 1956b ‘Organisation territoriale et expansion régionale’, Revue Française de Science Politique 6, 291–300. 1957 Auvergne–Aquitaine. Luxembourg: European Coal and Steel Community. 1958 Paris et le désert français (2nd edition). Paris: Flammarion. 1964 L’Aménagement du territoire et l’avenir des régions françaises (trans. into Italian and Spanish). Paris: Flammarion. 1970 La Question régionale. Paris: Flammarion. 1971 Economie et organisation régionales (trans. into Italian). Paris: Masson. 1972 Paris et le désert français en 1972. Paris: Flammarion. 1983 L’Espace vital: du paradis terrestre à l’aménagement du territoire. Paris: Flammarion

5. Reviews of works by Jean-François Gravier Beaujeu-Garnier, J. (1954), ‘Décentralisation et progrès technique’, L’Information Géographique 18, 125. Beaujeu-Garnier, J. (1957), ‘Les développements de la géographie de la population’, in G. Chabot, R. Clozier and J. Beaujeu-Garnier (eds), La Géographie française au milieu du XXe siècle. Paris: Baillière, 127–132.

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Benassi, M. (1985), ‘L’Espace vital: Du paradis terrestre à l’aménagement du territoire’, Population 40, 184–5. C. (Chevalier) L. (1947), ‘Paris et le désert français’, Population 2, 816. Engelhard, A. (1959), ‘Livres reçus’, Annales de Géographie 68, 171–3. F. (Febvre) L. (1950), ‘Paris et le désert français’, Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations 5, 384–5. Gibert, A. (1957), ‘Géographie de l’industrie’, in G. Chabot, R. Clozier and J. BeaujeuGarnier (eds), La Géographie française au milieu du XXe siècle. Paris: Baillière, 167–74. Maulnier, T. (1948), ‘La France, pays neuf ’, Le Monde 3 April. Pinchemel, P. (1971), ‘La question régionale, vue par J.-F. Gravier’, Annales de Géographie 80, 722–3. S. (Sauvy) A. (1954), ‘Décentralisation et progrès technique’, Population 9, 149. Veyret-Verner, G. (1954), ‘Décentralisation et progrès technique’, Revue de Géographie Alpine 42, 580–1. Voldman, D. (1984), ‘L’Espace vital: du paradis terrestre à l’aménagement du territoire’, Vingtième Siècle 3, 161–2. In 1957 the Ministère de la Reconstruction et de l’Urbanisme commissioned R. Leenhardt and S. Jezequel to make a film entitled ‘Paris et le désert français’. Comprising three sequences, it dealt with depopulation of the village of Gourdon (Lot), suburban sprawl at Goussainville (north-east of Paris) resulting from rural-urban migration, and planned industrialization of rural valleys exemplifying aménagement (http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xn5dj9_paris-et-le-desertfrancais-1957-realisation-roger-leenhardt-et-sydney-jezequel-resoudre-ledesquil_shortfilms).

Chronology of Gaston Gravier and Jean-François Gravier 1886

Gaston born 21 August at Liffol-le-Grand (Vosges)

1897–1904 Secondary schooling at the Collège de Neufchâteau 1904–5

Secondary schooling completed at the Lycée de Nancy

1906–8

Higher education at the University of Lille

1908

Completion of research on La plaine lorraine

1909

Studied for the agrégation examination but not successful; appointed teacher of French civilization at the University of Belgrade

1911

Founded the Société littéraire française in Belgrade; began to publish on Serbia

1913

Refused offer of a university post in Austria

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Married Claire Derulle 29 March; joined Lorraine regiment 2 August

1915

Jean-François born 14 April at Levallois-Perret (Seine), western Paris; Gaston killed 10 June at Souchez-Ablain-Saint-Nazaire

1919

Publication of Les Frontières historiques de la Serbie

1920

Publication of ‘La plaine dans la région vosgienne’

1926–34

Jean-François educated at Lycées Buffon, Janson-de-Sailly, and Henri IV in Paris; failed to qualify for entry to the Ecole Normale Supérieure

1934–8

Higher education at the Sorbonne, University of Paris

1938

Passed agrégation national examination in history and geography

1940–1

Taught French language and civilization at the University of Belgrade

1941–2

Chargé de mission at the Secrétariat Général de la Jeunesse; Director of the Ecole des Cadres at Le-Mayet-de-Montagne

1942–4

Chargé de mission at the Fondation Alexis Carrel

1945–9

Chargé de mission at the Ministère de Reconstruction et d’Urbanisme

1947

Publication of first edition of Paris et le désert français

1948–87

Contributor to La Vie française

1950–65

Chargé de mission at the Commissariat Général au Plan

1958

Publication of second edition of Paris et le désert français

1959

Awarded Grand Prix Gobert by the Académie française

1959–64

Member of the national Conseil Economique et Sociale

1963

Married Christiane Granier (née Martin), a widow

1965–83

Professor of regional economic organization at the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers in Paris

1974–81

Head of the department of territorial planning at the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers

1984

Awarded the Prix Conrad Malte-Brun by the Société de Géographie de Paris

1985

Appointed corresponding member of the Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques; member of the Société de Géographie de Paris

2005

Jean-François Gravier dies, 11 November in Paris

7

Two geographers, father and daughter: Pierre Foncin (1841–1916) and Myriem Foncin (1893–1976) Hugh Clout

The career of Pierre Foncin unfolded in the wake of the defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. Victory by the Germans was widely attributed to their superior knowledge of the terrain over which they fought as a result of the quality of geographical teaching in Prussian military academies (Broc 1974, 1977). The French government launched an enquiry into the combined teaching of history and geography, charging Louis-Auguste Himly (1823–1906), professor of geography at the Sorbonne, and Emile Levasseur (1828–1911), professor of economics at the Collège de France, to investigate the quality of instruction in the nation’s primary and secondary schools (see Geographers 1, 2, respectively). They concluded that history teaching needed improvement, while the teaching of geography scarcely existed (Faure 1891; Levasseur and Himly 1871). Action was needed in the national interest. It was in this milieu of patriotic fervour that the geographical career of Pierre Foncin developed as schoolteacher, university professor, prolific author of textbooks for schoolchildren, founder of learned societies, senior civil servant and advocate of colonialism and the diffusion of French language and culture both in ‘France overseas’ and in foreign countries. After writing a textbook on French history, he devoted most of his subsequent works to geography, publishing almost exclusively with the Armand Colin company. Myriem, his elder daughter by his second marriage, was greatly inspired by her father and took a geography degree at the Sorbonne. She began, but did not complete, doctoral research on the urban geography of Paris. A suite of articles reveals

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the quality of her work, especially on the Paris region. Her career developed not as a teacher or researcher but as a librarian and distinguished curator of the cartographic resources of the French national library, where she was a female pioneer in what was then a man’s world. She was also committed to schemes encouraging reading and the training of amateur librarians. Author of scholarly works on historic maps and compiler of catalogues of map resources, she acquired an international reputation for assisting the research of geographers and of historians of the map.

Pierre Foncin Education and early career Pierre François Charles Foncin was born on 2 May 1841 at Limoges (HauteVienne département). His father Joseph Foncin (1807–94) was a secondary school teacher of liberal Catholic persuasion, having come in sixth place in the grammar section of the national agrégation examination in 1833 for intending high school teachers (Broc 1976, 130; Foncin 1895). By 1841 he was headmaster of the Collège de Limoges, and later became an inspector of education and rector of the académie of the Mayenne with administrative responsibility for all aspects of state education in that part of western France. In 1858, he was created a Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur for his services to education. Pierre’s mother was Marie Thérèse Bonne Josephine Charlotte (née Groc, 1816–42). As a teacher, Joseph changed his place of employment several times before arriving in Limoges, hence Pierre attended state high schools (lycées) at Laval, where he obtained a prize for Latin composition, and Amiens, where his father was headmaster. Subsequently, Pierre was a boarder at Sainte-Barbe College in central Paris. By 1860 he was studying at the Lycée Louis-le-Grand in the capital and won first prize for oral French among candidates from all schools in Paris and Versailles. He studied at the Ecole Normale Supérieure (ENS) in the rue d’Ulm for the next three years. His history tutor was Victor Duruy (1811–94), who had taught the subject in various schools, was an accomplished author of textbooks and an enthusiastic lecturer to the general public (Nishiyama 2008, 45). Among Pierre’s contemporaries was Ernest

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Lavisse (1842–1922), who became an influential historian. At the ENS Pierre prepared for the very demanding concours d’agrégation d’histoire et géographie, coming last in the list of six successful candidates. Paul Vidal de La Blache (1845–1917) was not quite a contemporary, entering the ENS in the autumn of 1863, a few months after Pierre had moved on (Geographers 12) (Andrews 1986; Sanguin 1993). At the age of twenty-two Pierre Foncin began his career as a history teacher at the lycée in Carcassonne, a town that he grew to love and about which he wrote several books (Foncin 1865, 1877a, 1900a). In addition to his normal teaching duties, he delivered general lectures to the citizens of the town who appreciated his clear delivery and open-minded approach (Ozouf-Marignier 2001, 106). In 1865 he moved north to Troyes and continued with extramural activities. In the following April, back in Carcassonne, he married Anne Sylvestre (1841–87) (113). The couple had one daughter, Antoinette. Pierre and Anne returned to south-west France in the summer of 1886. For the next three years he taught at the lycée spécial at Mont-de-Marsan (Landes), where innovative techniques of instruction were employed according to a programme introduced by the minister of public education who was Victor Duruy, Foncin’s former tutor at the ENS. This aimed at forming future citizens to work in industry, trade and agriculture, and, rather than emphasizing classical languages, trained students in morality and religion, French language and literature, history and geography, arithmetic, book-keeping, economics and legislation (Duruy 1866, 4; Nishiyama 2008, 47). Foncin’s students agreed that ‘he was a perfect teacher … who marked the lives of his pupils’ (Duthil 1925–6, 8). Whilst at Mont-de-Marsan, he collaborated with a certain M. Vat (who contributed exercises for pupils) on a 706-page Cours complet de géographie and also prepared a text supporting the economic theories of Frédéric Bastiat (1801–50) (Foncin 1869; Foncin and Vat 1867). Together with enthusiastic fellow teachers, he established the Société des Lettres, Arts et Sciences de Mont-de-Marsan with the objective of diffusing the latest ideas in various branches of knowledge and stimulating local investigations. Despite this achievement, he found that the opportunities offered by this small town fell below his expectations and in 1868 he transferred to the vacant history post at the lycée in Bordeaux.

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Years in Bordeaux and Douai Foncin continued to deliver classes to the general public in this important trading city, and actively promoted secondary education for girls. At this time, in the wake of national defeat in the Franco-Prussian War, he drafted a short introductory textbook entitled Textes et récits d’histoire de France (Foncin 1873). Its opening words, written soon after the war, declared: Our fatherland needs the attention of all its children. Teaching of our national history will contribute to a clear and precise grasp of our past faults and our duties for the future … May this little book prove to our unfortunate brothers in Alsace and Lorraine [then under German occupation] that we never cease to think of them, and also remind us that regeneration of a people must begin with the education of its children, and that it is upon this that the salvation of France depends. (2)

By virtue of its strong Republican stance and relative lack of attention to religious matters and to the monarchy, the book aroused strong opposition from conservative teachers. In 1875 it was banned from use in schools but was reinstated three years later following a number of modifications by the author, including greater emphasis on the role of the Catholic church and the monarchy, and less enthusiastic treatment of the French Revolution and Napoléon Bonaparte (Nishiyama 2008, 53). The revised text enjoyed remarkable success, going through nine editions from 1879 to 1881. In 1872 the national congress of the Association Française pour l’Avancement des Sciences met in Bordeaux and the president of the local section concerned with ‘political economy, statistics and geography’ proposed the creation of a society for commercial geography in the city (Péhaut 1994, 78). The two main advocates of this innovation were Pierre Foncin, who had come to appreciate the potential utility of geographical knowledge in this trading city, and Marc Maurel (1826–1911), trader and industrialist who had been a special envoy for his then firm in the West African territory of the Sénégal (Depping 1881). He was a passionate convert to geography, arguing: ‘It is important to understand the globe and to know how it is inhabited and what each region produces under the triple influence of human intelligence, climate and geological composition’ (cited in Péhaut 1994, 79). As they formulated their ideas for a society for commercial geography, Maurel and Foncin assembled

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a committee of eight members, each of whom belonged to the trading and shipping community, with the exception of Foncin. The first general assembly of the Société de Géographie Commerciale de Bordeaux met on 14 November 1874 and a council of two dozen members was elected for a period of three years. Marc Maurel was chosen to be inaugural president, with Pierre Foncin serving as general secretary and editor of the society’s forthcoming bulletin (Broc 1978, 150). The aims of the new society, as specified on 21 November, included assembling information on the topography, mineral, agricultural and industrial products of every country; facilitating the emigration of young people wishing to settle abroad; keeping a register of such emigrants; setting up a network of international correspondents; and assembling a collection of products from abroad with clear information about where they were produced, their average annual yield and price (Lejeune 1993, 153). During the winter of 1873–4 Foncin delivered a course of public lectures in Bordeaux, dealing with commercial and industrial themes, and probably with the patronage of the city council (Ozouf-Marignier 2001, 109). In the following May the University of Bordeaux created a special lectureship for him and the course that he delivered on commercial geography attracted audiences of 300–400 people, mainly students, shopkeepers and members of the trading community. His first classes dealt with the geography of the Sénégal, its products and trading opportunities, and later sessions examined broader issues related to international commerce and colonization. He declared that he had been ‘passionately concerned with geography, and especially applied geography’ ever since he left the ENS, and he believed there was great potential for ‘a fertile alliance between geography and commerce’ (Foncin 1874–5a, 246; Ozouf-Marignier 2001, 110). Members of the chamber of commerce and the city council were impressed with his words, leading the mayor to write to the rector of the académie of Bordeaux (the organization responsible for all levels of state education in the region) arguing that ‘a course of this nature in our trading city would be of the greatest utility for numerous students in the Faculty of Arts and also for traders and shippers, in a word for the whole commercial population’ (cited in Ozouf-Marignier 2001, 111). The rector shared this opinion but the dean or arts was less convinced, believing that such a course should be offered by the chamber of commerce or a learned society rather than by the university. His counterpart in science was more favourably disposed

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toward the idea but the argument for creating a chair of geography somewhere in the university dragged on. At this frustrating time, Foncin drafted several introductory texts for schoolchildren and their teachers (Foncin 1873, 1875). The case for a university chair was strengthened when Foncin submitted his doctoral theses for examination at the Sorbonne in October 1876. Two pieces of work were required, a major thesis written in French and a minor work drafted in Latin. Foncin wrote a thirty-five-page pamphlet on the history of Carcassonne for his secondary thesis, and submitted a 622-page volume on the ministry of Anne Robert Jacques Turgot (1727–81) during 1774–6 as his major thesis (Foncin 1877a,b; Heffernan 1994). This work was dedicated to his father. Using contemporary pamphlets, letters and other archival documents, Foncin traced Turgot’s initial appointment as minister of the navy in July 1774, but concentrated on his subsequent appointment as controller-general of finance in August. He showed how Turgot prepared a regular budget, proposed to reorganize taxation and sought to establish free trade in grain. This latter project met with strong opposition and the poor harvest of 1774 led to a rise in the price of bread in the following year. Turgot supressed the ensuing riots and made further proposals to terminate the hated labour duties (corvées), as well as the privileges of craft guilds. These measures also proved unpopular and Louis XVI ordered him to resign on 12 May 1776. Turgot devoted the rest of his life to scientific and literary studies, and witnessed the collapse of some of the innovations he had implemented. As well as tracing the events of Turgot’s ministry and identifying elements in the royal court that opposed him, Foncin paid attention to his economic doctrine, his ideas on the role of the monarchy and on the rights of man and his beliefs on general aspects of morality (Heffernan 1994). The thesis was praised in the Revue Historique for its lucidity and critical qualities, with an anonymous reviewer declaring that ‘the admiration that the great minister inspired [in Foncin] never threatened his impartiality’ in his ‘mature, profound and complete exposition’ (Anon. 1877, 112). Readers would surely agree that he was ‘a master of his subject’. Historian Numa Fustel de Coulanges (1830–89) presented Foncin’s work to members of the Académie des Sciences Morales who discussed it at length before awarding it a prize (Nishiyama 2008, 47). With his doctorat d’état successfully defended, Pierre Foncin was appointed professor of geography at the University of Bordeaux on 20 November 1876.

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His chair was the first professorial post in the discipline to be established in provincial France, long after the chair at the Sorbonne (1812). Foncin’s lectures were very well received by students in the faculty of arts and by members of the commercial community. In his capacity as general secretary of the Société de Géographie Commerciale, he corresponded with comparable organizations in Paris, Lyon, New York, Amsterdam and several other great trading cities. He favoured the creation of a network of geographical societies in south-west France, identifying seven départements that were ‘naturally grouped around the Gironde, forming a geographical division with Bordeaux at the centre’ (Foncin 1874–5b, xiv–xv; Ozouf-Marignier 2001, 114). In 1878 he invited many of the towns of Aquitaine to join this proposed geographical network. Bergerac, Blaye and Périgueux were the first to respond positively, being followed by Rochefort, Libourne, Pau, SainteFoy-la-Grande, Arcachon, Agen, Moissac and Mont-de-Marsan. A delegate was identified in each of these towns, usually the local teacher of history and geography, who arranged for Foncin to deliver a rousing inaugural lecture, usually on a commercial or colonial theme, in order to muster support. By 1879 the network was known as the ‘Groupe géographique du Sud-Ouest’ and issued a bulletin every two months to circulate news of meetings to more than six hundred members and to disseminate commercial information even more widely; soon, a thousand copies of each issue were being printed. Foncin also dreamed of establishing a vast network of local geographical societies throughout France (Broc 1978, 150; Faure 1891, 116). Applying his geographical knowledge to local issues, he proposed a scheme to deepen the Canal des Deux-Mers in order to improve navigation and trade between the Gironde and the Mediterranean, and thereby reinforce the economy of Bordeaux (Broc 1978, 152). Foncin’s dynamism and success brought him to the attention of the national educational authorities in Paris and in April 1879 he was appointed rector of the académie of Douai in northern France, an area which was densely populated and had very many schools. This full-time administrative position took him away from Bordeaux, but he remained honorary secretary of the city’s geographical society. Teaching of geography at its university was entrusted to Jacques Gebelin (1848–98; lecturer in charge 1879–90 and then professor until his death in 1898), to Pierre Camena d’Almeida (1865–1943; professor

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from 1899 to 1935) and to Henri Cavaillès (1870–1951; appointed lecturer in 1922 and subsequently professor from 1931 to 1941) (Péhaut 1994, 90) (on Camena d’Almeida and Cavaillès see Geographers 7). From 1900 Henri Lorin (1866–1932) taught colonial geography at the Institut Colonial founded by the chamber of commerce and the city authorities of Bordeaux, but his teaching was often interrupted by his political activities, as he was elected député on several occasions (Péhaut 1994, 87). Having moved to Douai Foncin lost direct contact with students but he strongly promoted the idea of a northern network of geographical societies, which took the title of ‘Union géographique du Nord de la France’ in 1880. Over a dozen towns (or départements) joined this organization: Amiens, the Ardennes département, Arras, Avesnes, Béthune, Boulogne-sur-Mer, Cambrai, Charleville, Douai, Dunkirk, Laon, Lille, Saint-Omer, Saint-Quentin and Valenciennes (De Martonne 1924, 11). Together, they accounted for a membership of three thousand, with a central secretariat at Douai. Foncin used his trusted formula of visiting each town in order to deliver rousing speeches and to distribute prizes. As rector, with responsibility for all aspects of state education in Nord département, he promoted the teaching of geography and the Union géographique, as well as education for girls and training for schoolmistresses (Foncin 1880). In 1880, he was made a Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur for his services to education, just as his father had been honoured two decades earlier.

Inspector of education Foncin’s energy and vision singled him out for higher office. In 1881 the Minister of Education Paul Bert (1833–86), in the government of Léon Gambetta (1838–82), made him director of secondary schooling in place of Charles Zévort (1816–87). Bert particularly appreciated his promotion of female education. When the Gambetta regime fell in February 1882, Foncin was appointed Inspecteur général de l’instruction publique, with responsibility for checking and reporting on the quality of teaching of history and geography in primary and secondary schools and in higher institutions of education. In this capacity he travelled widely in France and made visits of inspection in Algeria, notably in 1882 and 1891 (Foncin 1883a, 1886; Nishiyama 2012, 56).

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When still a schoolteacher, Raoul Blanchard (1877–1962) recalled a meeting with Inspecteur Foncin at Saint-Quentin in 1903 (Geographers 32). He was waiting for me at the station, smiling beneath his beard. His first words were whether I knew the Musée Latour; we spent an hour and a half there and it was worth the visit. Then he took me to the best restaurant in town where he gave me a fine lunch; it was only over dessert that we got down to business and he remarked that he had put my name forward for the lycée job in Lille [which was a promotion]. (Blanchard 1963, 54)

As Inspecteur général Foncin had time to draft textbooks for the Armand Colin publishing house, with a version for pupils being complemented by a more detailed version for teachers. His Première année de géographie first appeared in 1875, and was followed by textbooks for the second and third years of study (Foncin 1875, 1883b, 1885). In 1887 his Géographie générale came out and was followed rapidly by his Géographie historique and an Atlas général d’histoire et de géographie (Foncin 1887a, 1888, 1889a). This productivity was remarkable since his wife Anne was in failing health and died during 1887. He continued to produce new textbooks, including a Géographie de la France (translated into English in 1902) and a Géographie générale du monde, as well as a collection of wall maps in 1893 (Foncin 1891, 1892a). His books were valued for their clarity of expression and inclusion of maps and diagrams, many of which were in colour. Their appearance and content benefited from the cartographic and editorial expertise of the Armand Colin company, and its ability to call on contributors for sections of text that Foncin could not handle. Under the heading ‘general geography’, he reviewed mathematical, physical and political geography, the last embracing history, population and economic activities. His conception of ‘applied geography’ retained the same categories, but treated economic issues in much greater depth. Thus his Première année de géographie began with preliminary ideas about the globe before discussing the geography of France in detail and then briefly reviewing physical and human conditions in Europe and the remaining continents (Foncin 1875). Designed to fit the national syllabus for study, and responding to various modifications to it, Foncin’s textbooks went through many revisions and editions, and continued to be updated following his death in 1916 by Elicio Colin (1874–1949) and others working for the Armand Colin firm.

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Foncin remarried in 1890, three years after the death of his wife Anne and in his fiftieth year. His second wife was Jeanne Marie de Pozzi (b. 1861) whose presence in his life seems to have encouraged his writing. At this time he purchased land on a coastal promontory in Provence where he had a villa – Lou Casteou dou Souleou – constructed in 1894 amidst a forest of cork oaks. The couple had two daughters, Marie (Myriem) Josephine Lucie (1893–1976, see below) and Mireille Henriette Marguerite (1895–1996). Foncin retained a strong interest in the theme of unity in diversity as expressed in the territory of France, deepening his knowledge of the country as he inspected numerous schools and colleges (Foncin 1894). He was greatly concerned at the concentration of administrative and economic power in the capital, sharing that view with members of the Fédération régionaliste française, including fellow geographers Vidal de La Blache, Lucien Gallois (1857–1941) and Jean Brunhes (1869–1930) (Berdoulay 1981, 133; Sagnes 2005) (see Geographers 24, 25, respectively). As early as 1885 he urged that ‘a methodical inventory of the small component pays’ of France be undertaken and that ‘some useful application, even in the administrative or political domain’, be found for them (Foncin 1885, 503). Thirteen years later he published ‘a project for administrative federalism’ in which he criticized most levels of administrative unit (communes, cantons and even départements) (Foncin 1898, 29; Gonzalez 1993). Only the 362 arrondissements of France received a measure of approval since they approached the size of pays that he had in mind (Foncin 1898, 36; Sagnes 2006). His views received support among politicians concerned with regionalism and decentralization (Dumont 2019; Ozouf-Marignier and Robic 2008, xxvi). In 1900 he re-stated his idea of a territorial inventory, declaring: I hope with all my heart that a great enquiry be conducted into the old pays of France, that this can be undertaken in the best conditions possible, that it be placed under the most competent geographical authorities and that it be completed. The important thing is not that it be done everywhere at the same time and straight away, but that it should begin and be set in progress, according to a well thought out programme … I will not hide my wish to see this vast study eventually assisting the administrative reorganization of the Republic, imprisoned up to now in the unitary and authoritative structure of royal and imperial centralization. (Foncin 1900b, 19–20)

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Foncin proposed exploration of natural, economic, historical and social parameters in order ‘to illuminate the original characteristics of each region. It is necessary to show how nature has influenced mankind, how people have influenced nature by their intelligence and work, to untangle general historical trends from local events, economic changes, education and culture … in order to paint a portrait’ (16). He insisted: It is necessary to know in depth the region that one seeks to describe; to know it by having lived there and strolled across it; and by sharing the life of its inhabitants. But that is not all. The great secret is to love it, for to love is to understand. (16)

He reiterated: ‘the real geographical divisions of France are not the provinces … The real geographical divisions of France have other names, consecrated by the respect of long generations … These are the pays’ (19). From his own experience of living at Lou Casteou dou Souleou, Foncin crafted a study of the Maures and the Estérel area, that he subtitled ‘an old pays of France’ (Foncin 1900c, 310). He prefaced this work with his belief that France suffered from excessive centralization that the Republic inherited, together with artificial and irrational administrative divisions, that ran against nature and were fabricated by the despotism of the State … We propose to replace the départements by regions similar to the historic provinces, and to group the communes, which are pointless and inert atoms, into vibrant units that would be none other than the old pays roughly corresponding with our arrondissements. (310)

As a seasonal resident Foncin declared his love for the area and proceeded to present its many characteristics. He concluded that the Maures and the Estérel area did not correspond precisely with the arrondissement of Draguignan and ‘like a body without a head’, lacked a chief town that was truly its own (339). He recommended giving administrative authority to the area and making Saint-Raphaël its centre. Ten years later he reworked his text into a small book, illustrating the monograph with photographs and maps, and reducing his methodological argument to a minimum (Foncin 1910). Not surprisingly, it was published by Armand Colin.

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In response to Foncin’s initiative, a number of regional studies were produced, not by geographers, but under the patronage of sociologist Henri Berr (1863–1954), such as those by Lucien Febvre (1878–1956; FrancheComté), Christian Pfister (1857–1933; Lorraine) and Marc Bloch (1886–1944; the Ile-de-France) (Bloch 1913; Febvre 1905; Pfister 1912; Sagnes 2005). These accounts were briefer than the regional monographs being written by the disciples of Vidal de La Blache at this time, and they were not drafted with the dual objectives of obtaining a doctorat d’état and proceeding to a professorial career (Clout 2009). Despite his affiliation with the Fédération régionaliste française, which published the text of his conference on ‘Régions et pays’, Pierre Foncin did not contribute to its journal, L’Action Régionaliste, or participate in its many activities (Charles-Brun 1911, 277–80; Foncin 1903a; Sagnes 2005). At the same time as his little monograph on the Maures and the Estérel appeared, the Fédération was losing interest in the idea of adopting pays (arrondissements) as the basis of administrative reform, placing greater emphasis on the significance of city-based functional regions being advocated by Vidal de La Blache and Jean Charles-Brun (1870–1946) among others (Charles-Brun 1911; Meyer 2004; Vidal de La Blache 1910; Wright 2004).

France and greater France In addition to being an inspector of education and a militant geographer advocating administrative reform, Foncin became strongly committed to the Alliance Française, subtitled on its letterhead ‘the national association for the propagation of the French language in the colonies and in foreign countries’. This hybrid organization, based in the private sector but with financial backing and moral support from the state, developed from an idea by Paul Cambon (1843–1924), resident general in Tunisia and later French ambassador to several European nations (Barko 2000). Its initial committee of support included such personalities as Ferdinand de Lesseps (1805–94), developer of the Suez Canal, scientist Louis Pasteur (1822–95), author Jules Verne (1828–1905) and publisher Auguste Armand Colin (1842–1900). The Alliance was founded officially on 10 March 1884 as a non-political and non-religious body in order to reinforce the position of French culture in the world, following national humiliation in 1870 (Horne 2017). To ensure

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no specific religious bias, it included a Catholic, a Protestant and a Jew on its founding board. Foncin performed a major role in the organization as longserving general secretary from 1883 to 1897, drafting a book on the Alliance Française for the Exposition Universelle of 1889 (Foncin 1889b). In 1897 he began a two-year period as Vice-President, assuming the presidency from 1899 to 1914. Under his dedicated and charismatic guidance, the Alliance supported schools, trained language teachers, allocated prizes, dispatched books, organized conferences and published a bulletin. Its frame of activity included not only parts of the rapidly expanding French empire but also centres throughout Europe and the Americas, and even France itself, since classes were provided for immigrant workers needing to become fluent in French (Barko 2000). A further objective was to attract foreign students to French universities in preference to German ones (Chaubet 2004). As an obituarist remarked, ‘Pierre Foncin devoted a great part of his life to the Alliance Française, editing its bulletin and organizing meetings and committees, with unfailing zeal and much appreciated tact’ (Anon. 1916, 201). In the words of Christian Pfister: ‘This scholar and professor was also a man of action, an apostle’ (Pfister 1917, 430). In his later years Foncin attended meetings of the Société de Géographie de Paris, served on the council of the Ecole Coloniale founded in 1889 to train civil servants for work overseas and belonged to ‘Le Progrès’ masonic lodge of the Grand Orient de France (Foncin 1892a; Rhein 1982). He continued to revise his many textbooks for Armand Colin, prepared another guidebook on Carcassonne, assembled a collection of geographical readings and wrote a book about explorers (Foncin 1900a, 1903b, 1911). In addition he returned to his life-long interest in the Turgot family that yielded an impressive number of priests, parliamentarians and provincial tax collectors and governors during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Foncin 1914). Foncin retained his post as general inspector of education until he retired in 1911, being succeeded by Louis Gallouédec (1864–1937) (Joumas 2001, 2006; Lefort 1992). The following year, at the age of seventy, he put himself forward as a candidate for the newly endowed chair of human geography at the Collège de France, but this distinguished post went to Jean Brunhes (1869–1930), almost three decades his junior. In 1913 Foncin was made Commandeur in the Légion d’Honneur for his promotion of education, French language and culture. He

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died at the family home of 1 rue Michelet in central Paris on 16 December 1916, aged seventy-five. At this dark moment in the First World War, Foncin was reported to have ‘remained unswervingly convinced of the final victory. His ardent patriotism turned away all doubts and soared above pessimism’ (Duthil 1925–6, 20).

Conclusion Foncin and his near contemporary Paul Vidal de La Blache came to geography through initial study of history. They shared the aim of promoting the discipline of geography in France, but their lives, though parallel, were substantially different. Vidal spent his career teaching at the University of Nancy, the ENS and the Sorbonne in Paris, and in this capacity influenced not only undergraduates but also a suite of young men who read for doctorates under his patronage and formed the next generation of geography professors. Together with Marcel Dubois (1856–1916) (Geographers 30), he co-founded the Annales de Géographie in 1891 to propagate his new holistic geography, and he edited textbooks for the Armand Colin publishing house. By contrast, Foncin spent most of his career as a lycée teacher, educational administrator and campaigner, with less than two years as full professor at the University of Bordeaux. His career of public service afforded him no direct opportunity to create a student following. Instead, he had a great impact on French schoolchildren as an author of geography (and history) textbooks for Armand Colin, the same company that published the Annales de Géographie and many of the doctoral monographs written by the protégés of Vidal de La Blache. He was indeed ‘a star author’ whose textbooks sold in millions (pers. comm. JeanYves Mollier, 8 Feb 2018). Without doubt, there was mutual respect between the extrovert Foncin and the rather shy Vidal, but the former has almost disappeared from the geographical memory (Claval 1998). Vidal gave Foncin the accolade of being the first scholar to publish in the Annales de Géographie. His article on ‘La France extérieure en 1891’ was an account of ‘greater France’ at the end of the nineteenth century, and a ringing endorsement of the virtues of colonial action (Foncin 1892c; Soubeyran 1997). He began by charting how France lost colonies during the eighteenth century, subsequently occupying

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‘an imperceptible place on the planet, after useless continental wars … and imperial campaigns that gave forth their vain fanfares to the four winds of Europe’ (Foncin 1892c, 2). From 1830, the tide began to turn and ‘greater France’ gradually came to comprise Algeria, territories of west Africa, southeast Asia and many other parts of the globe, ‘each of which merits its own study [for there are] so many versions of France beyond France’ (Foncin 1892c, 8). Foncin argued that there were political, social, commercial and moral cases for fashioning, retaining and enlarging a French empire. These were national echoes of his earlier case for establishing a society of commercial geography, his sustained commitment to the trading city of Bordeaux and his later promotion of the Alliance Française and the Ecole Coloniale (Foncin 1887b, 1900d). By virtue of their geographical differences, he observed, some sections of empire were appropriate only as military bases, others for commercial exploitation and yet others for settlement by French migrants. Of all the arguments to support colonial action, he believed ‘the most durable and powerful is our moral influence … To radiate our ideas and skills and the warm communication of our understanding’ (Foncin 1900d, 7). He was indeed a fervent advocate of France’s mission civilisatrice. A second expression of the respect in which Vidal held Foncin is found in the warm and unusually long (four-page) obituary that he committed to the Annales de Géographie (Vidal de La Blache 1917). He evoked Foncin’s dedication to the Alliance Française, for which he was ‘an indefatigable campaigner’, and praised his doctoral thesis on Turgot, arguing that this work of ‘economic history undoubtedly indicated the route to geography’ where he displayed ‘vast curiosity, a taste for observing the realities of life, and ardent patriotism’ (67). Like Vidal, Foncin held a unitary view of geography ‘not separating physical geography from political and historical geography, so as not to isolate the reality of things that are unified before our eyes’ (68). The two men shared a concern ‘to find, or to put it better, to create living territorial units to release France from the constraint of oppressive centralisation’ (68). Vidal proceeded to praise Foncin’s study of Les Maures et l’Estérel as ‘a model of these local monographs that he wanted to multiply’, appreciating his depiction of the ‘wild beauty’ of the area that he captured from his house located ‘between the forests and the vast horizon of the seas, on one of those promontories about which sailors in ancient times loved to consecrate a legend or a sanctuary’

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(69). At this time of empire, albeit set in the depths of European war, Vidal acclaimed Foncin to be ‘a fervent apostle of colonial policy’ and a man ‘with a generous heart and a high spirit’ (69). Along with the great statesmen of the Republic, ‘Foncin shared reforming vigour and a robust faith in the destiny of our fatherland’ (70). The two geographers have their place in the street names of Paris, with two short parallel streets, merely 250 metres apart, bearing their names in the 20th arrondissement. In addition Foncin left a daughter who continued, albeit in a rather different manner, her father’s contribution to geographical enquiry.

Myriem Foncin Education Marie (Myriem) Josephine Lucie Foncin was born in Paris on 2 May 1893, the elder daughter of Pierre Foncin and his second wife Jeanne Marie (née de Pozzi). Her childhood was divided between schooling in the capital and holidays spent at Lou Casteou dou Souleou sited on the Mediterranean coast between Le Rayol and Cavalaire. Encouraged by her ageing father, Myriem excelled in her schoolwork and was particularly interested in geographical enquiries (La Roncière 1978a,b). She enrolled to study history and geography at the Sorbonne and attended classes given by geographers Emmanuel de Martonne (1873–1955), Lucien Gallois and Albert Demangeon (1872–1940) (Geographers 12, 25, 11, respectively). From Gallois she acquired a fascination for cartography and historic maps, and Demangeon stimulated a profound interest in urban geography. De Martonne conveyed the fundamentals of physical geography, which Myriem explored more fully in a subsequent science degree, with courses in botany and mathematics, as well as additional physical geography, from which she graduated in 1914. She returned to geography for her diplôme d’études supérieures (equivalent to a master’s degree by research) under the supervision of Demangeon (Ginsburger 2015). She used Lou Casteou dou Souleou as a base for studying the cultivation and marketing of flowers and early vegetables on the Côte d’Azur, between Toulon and Menton. An abbreviated version of her work soon appeared in the Annales de Géographie (Foncin 1916).

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Despite the death of her father in December 1916, Myriem determined to proceed with further research on the development of Paris in recent centuries, with the objective of obtaining a doctorat d’état, as he had done four decades previously. Her enquiries began with a study of the historical geography of Versailles that was also published in the Annales de Géographie and traced how the settlement grew from a village to the home of the royal court, only to decline when it returned to Paris, and then became a railway suburb in the nineteenth century (Broc 2001, 179; Foncin 1919). Myriem Foncin’s interests were not entirely rooted in the past and she produced two papers that related to current issues for La Vie Urbaine, a journal edited by members of the newly created Ecole des Hautes Etudes Urbaines in the University of Paris. The first was a critical commentary on the procedure for producing a master plan to guide the future growth of the capital, with particular concern for the protection of hillsides (Foncin 1920a; Verdeil 2001, 207). This was soon followed by a study of the district of Belleville where Robert Garric (1896–1967) and his newly formed Equipes sociales started to bring education to members of the working class as a continuation of the inter-class solidarity that he encountered in the trenches during the First World War (Foncin 1920b; Garric 1924, 1928). Myriem joined the Equipes sociales and in 1923 set up a special branch for the education of women, very much in the spirit of her father’s early work. She established international professional contacts from an early age, attending the 12th International Geographical Congress at Cambridge in 1928, where she gave a paper on rural settlement in the Maures massif (Foncin 1928). As a socially committed, unmarried woman, Foncin needed to earn a living. Full-time employment diverted her energies from doctoral research but after an interruption of almost a decade she delivered a remarkable ‘programme of work’ to fellow members of the Association de Géographes Français. She declared that ‘it is astonishing that almost nothing has been done, from a geographical point of view, on greater Paris. Whilst theses have been devoted to different regions of France, and several towns have been the object of detailed monographs, Paris seems to have escaped [the attention of] geographers’ (Foncin 1929, 5). She enumerated an array of sources that might be interrogated and advocated undertaking case studies of selected streets, neighbourhoods and recent suburbs. These would be set into context by examining the capital’s recent population growth, its food supplies, traffic

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flows and employment in commerce and manufacturing. The challenge of such an exhaustive ‘programme of work’ was formidable and perhaps insurmountable for a single researcher. Myriem published case studies on two further neighbourhoods, Le Roule on the right bank of the Seine, and the Ile de la Cité, but full-time employment undoubtedly contributed to the fact that she did not complete her doctorate (Foncin 1931, 1934).

A career in the French national library Myriem Foncin received initial training in librarianship and Lucien Gallois wrote a glowing recommendation: ‘This young lady is very intelligent and is passionately keen on geography … I could not offer a candidate who is better prepared’ (cited in La Roncière 1978a, 321). On 1 June 1920, she was taken on by the Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BNF) in central Paris to work in the maps and plans section of the department of printed works. She would remain there for the rest of her working life. As the only female librarian in the whole BNF, she took responsibility for modern maps, thereby complementing the work of Charles du Bus (1885–1940) who was a specialist on ancient cartography. Her activity was soon recognized as indispensable to the efficient running of the section, but after the departure of Albert Isnard (1861–1949) in 1926, the post of chief curator (conservateur en chef) of maps and plans remained vacant for over a decade. The administration refused to promote du Bus and hesitated at the thought of elevating a woman to a curatorship, despite Foncin’s efficiency in routine matters of cataloguing and preparing bibliographies for publication, and her clear and innovative vision for the future of the section (Foncin 1939). For example, at the 15th International Geographical Congress in Amsterdam in 1938, she announced her project to coordinate a cartographic bibliography on an international scale (Foncin 1938). This was delayed by the Second World War and did not appear until 1948 (Foncin and Sommer 1948). Through the medium of the Association de Bibliothécaires Français (association of French librarians) Myriem Foncin organized courses throughout the 1930s for untrained staff working in small local libraries, hospitals and sanatoria. She set up an informal group of teachers, publishers and librarians to establish a book purchasing policy for such enterprises. This initiative reflected her commitment to the promotion

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of reading by ordinary people with only slight education. In 1939 she was promoted to head (chef) of section grade, but not yet conservateur en chef. During 1940 and 1941, she ran courses for staff responsible for collections of books in refugee camps and youth centres, and coordinated the dispatch of books to prisoner of war camps. In addition she liaised with architects for renovating the Tubeuf building, where the maps and plans section of the BNF was housed, and for creating four levels of underground storage facilities. Following her advice, work began in 1941 but was halted in the following year by the German occupying authorities, remaining in abeyance until 1946. By virtue of her dynamism, creative intelligence, efficiency and commitment, Foncin was finally promoted to the post of conservateur en chef of maps and plans on 16 March 1942, being the first woman to head a department in the BNF. She remained in that position until her retirement in March 1963. One of her first actions as conservateur en chef was to accept the collection of maps, books and periodicals of the Société de Géographie de Paris, preventing its being requisitioned and used by the Germans by instigating a complicated and lengthy programme of cataloguing in 1942 that rendered it unavailable for consultation (Anon. 1976). Five years later she received over twenty thousand maps, mostly in manuscript form, from the Hydrographic Service of the Navy, which illustrated French maritime and colonial activities during the ancien régime. Foncin was elected president of the association of French librarians (1945–7), and served a second term from 1958 to 1961 (Lethève 1993, 100). Continuing to supervise the renovation of the Tubeuf building, she brought out the first volume of the Bibliographie cartographique internationale, on behalf of the International Geographical Union and the French Comité National de Géographie (Foncin and Sommer 1948). Detailed studies of eighteenthcentury manuscript maps of Louisiana and of the Pyrenees exemplified her personal research (Foncin 1951, 1952). By the early 1950s Foncin’s international reputation was established and she was invited by the Library of Congress to spend three months in the United States, visiting a number of great libraries and explaining how she managed the maps and plans section of the BNF (Foncin 1953). In August 1952, she attended the 18th International Geographical Congress at Washington, DC, delivering a paper on the challenge of attributing accurate dates to historic maps (Foncin 1957a). In succession to Yves-Marie Goblet (1881–1955), she

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was elected secretary to the Commission for historic maps of the International Geographical Union, working alongside Roberto Almagià (1884–1962) as chair (on Goblet see Geographers 13). She joined the transcontinental excursion after the 18th Congress that took her to Chicago, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, Seattle, Los Angeles and the Grand Canyon, later sharing her enthusiasm in a lecture to members of the Société de Géographie de Paris (La Roncière 1978a, 322). In 1954 work on the Tubeuf building was completed and she published a valuable report on the new storage and display facilities (Foncin 1954). She received many visits by French and foreign librarians who sought to obtain a plan of her modernized department and details of pieces of furniture that she had designed specially to hold map sheets, globes, wall maps and other material. In 1956 she was elected secretary of the geography section of the Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, attending its annual conferences and publishing articles in its proceedings on the Blaeu globes, seventeenth-century manuscript maps, charts depicting the coast of Provence and the composition of a map collection held by Louis XIV and another housed in Burgundy (Foncin 1960a, 1964, 1970; Foncin and La Roncière 1962, 1965, 1966). In addition to a report on the range of geographical literature held in French libraries, she recorded recent acquisitions of manuscript maps by the BNF, described specific examples and commented on cartographic controversies (Foncin 1957b, 1960b, 1965, 1967; Foncin and La Roncière 1961). Often at international meetings in the company of Helen Wallis (1924–95), map curator in the British Museum (later British Library), and of Eila Campbell (1915–94), long-serving editor of Imago Mundi, Myriem Foncin was awarded the Gill Memorial Prize in 1961 by the Royal Geographical Society for her services to cartography (Mead 1995; Wallis 1994) (on Wallis see Geographers 38). Foncin took official retirement in 1963, the event being marked by the publication of her catalogue of nautical maps on velum conserved in the BNF (Foncin, Destombes and La Roncière 1963). The following year she was honoured by election to membership of the Légion d’Honneur (Lethève 1993, 99). During the remainder of the decade she continued to attend conferences, delivered scholarly papers and reported on the commission for historic maps (Foncin 1966). Her final years were divided between her home in Paris and Lou Casteou dou Souleou that she shared with her sister Mireille who was especially interested in work with small libraries (Lethève 1993, 162).

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Myriem Foncin died in hospital at Toulon on 5 January 1976, having devoted her life not only to librarianship but also to cartographic and geographical scholarship. She was truly a pioneer in a man’s world and is remembered for her dynamism, her generosity of spirit and her willingness to help finance certain social projects. Mireille, who died in 1996, survived her sister by almost two decades but as early as 1977 she donated the majestic white ‘Maison Foncin’, its botanic garden and the surrounding 15 hectares of cork oak woodland to the Conservatoire du Littoral (coastal conservation agency), on condition it be used for educational purposes and the conservation of nature in perpetuity. For four decades, members of the public were afforded access only during the Journées Européennes du Patrimoine, but in 2018 a permanent exhibition was installed in the Maison Foncin. Visits may be arranged through the tourism office of Cavalaire-sur-Mer. Five rooms trace the career of Pierre Foncin, the cartographic work of Myriem, the history of maps of Provence and the deep concern of Mireille for environmental protection.

Sources The Leonore database of the Ministère de la Culture relating to the Légion d’Honneur contains biographical information on Pierre Foncin and his father, Joseph. The Gallica database of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BNF) provides electronic access to the Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale (Bordeaux). The catalogue of the BNF lists the many publications of Pierre Foncin. Comprehensive lists of publications by Myriem Foncin were supplied by her colleague Monique de La Roncière (1916–2002) (1978a,b). I am grateful to Guy di Méo who suggested to me that it would be interesting to investigate the career of Pierre Foncin, his distant predecessor at the University of Bordeaux.

Bibliography 1. References on Pierre Foncin and Myriem Foncin and their intellectual milieux Andrews, H. F. (1986), ‘The early life of Paul Vidal de La Blache and the makings of modern geography’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 11, 174–82.

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Anon. (1877), ‘Essai sur le ministère de Turgot’, Revue Historique 3, 112. Anon. (1916), ‘Pierre Foncin’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie et d’Etudes Coloniales de Marseille 40, 200–1. Anon. (1976), ‘Nécrologie: Myriem Foncin, 1893–1976’, Acta Geographica 25, 31. Barko, I. (2000), ‘L’Alliance Française: les années Foncin (1883–1914). Contexte, naissance, mutations’, Documents pour l’Histoire du Française Langue Etrangère ou Seconde 25, 1–10, http://journals.openedition.org/dhfles/2948. Berdoulay, V. (1981), La Formation de l’école française de géographie. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques. Blanchard, R. (1963), Je découvre l’Université: Douai, Lille, Grenoble. Paris: Fayard. Bloch, M. (1913), Ile-de-France. Paris: Cerf. Broc, N. (1974), ‘L’établissement de la géographie en France: diffusion, institutions, projets, 1870–1890’, Annales de Géographie 83, 545–68. Broc, N. (1976), ‘Patriotisme, régionalisme et géographie: Pierre Foncin (1841–1916)’, L’Information Historique 38, 130–3. Broc, N. (1977), ‘La géographie française face à la science allemande, 1870–1914’, Annales de Géographie 86, 71–94. Broc, N. (1978), ‘Le rôle de la Société de Géographie de Bordeaux dans les premiers congrès nationaux de géographie’, Revue Géographique des Pyrénées et du SudOuest 49, 150–5. Broc, N. (2001), ‘Géographie au féminin: les premières collaboratrices des Annales de Géographie’, Annales de Géographie 110, 175–81. Chaubet, F. (2004), ‘L’Alliance Française ou la diplomatie de la langue, 1883–1914’, Revue Historique 306 763–85. Charles-Brun, J. (1911), Le Régionalisme. Paris: Bloud. Claval, P. (1998), Histoire de la géographie française de 1870 à nos jours. Paris: Nathan. Clout, H. (2009), ‘Patronage and the production of geographical knowledge in France: The testimony of the first hundred regional monographs, 1905–1966’, Historical Geography Research Series: Royal Geographical Society 41, 1–123. Depping, G. (1881), ‘La Société de Géographie Commerciale de Bordeaux’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale, 249–59. Dumont, G.-F. (2019), ‘Pierre Foncin, un géographe qui veut degager la France d’une centralisation oppressive’, in V. Aubelleand and N. Kada (eds), Les Grandes Figures de la décentralisation: De l’ancien régime à nos jours. Paris: Berger-Levrault, 301–15. Duruy, V. (1866), Discours prononcé par son excellence M. le ministre de l’Instruction publique, le 15 octobre 1866, à l’inauguration du lycée d’enseignement spécial de Mont-de-Marsan. Rennes: Oberthur.

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Duthil, J. B. (1925–6), ‘Pierre Foncin’, Revue de Géographie Commerciale, 5–20. Faure, C. (1891), ‘Les progrès de l’enseignement de la géographie en France’, Bulletin de la Société Neuchâteloise de Géographie 6, 96–125. Febvre, L. (1905), Franche-Comté. Paris: Cerf. Garric, R. (1924), Les Equipes sociales: esprit et méthodes. Paris: Editions de la Revue des Jeunes. Garric, R. (1928), Belleville: scènes de la vie populaire. Paris: Grasset. Ginsburger, N. (2015), ‘Les premières géographes universitaires en France: enquête sur les débuts d’une féminisation disciplinaire, 1913–1928’, Cybergeo 734, https:// doi.org/10.4000/cybergeo.27138. Gonzalez, D. (1993), ‘L’idée de pays dans la géographie au tournant du siècle’, in P. Claval (ed.), Autour de Vidal de La Blache: La formation de l’école française de géographie. Paris: CNRS, 123–9. Heffernan, M. (1994), ‘On geography and progress: Turgot’s Plan d’un ouvrage sur la géographie politique (1751) and the origins of modern progressive thought’, Political Geography 13, 328–43. Horne, J. (2017), ‘To spread the French language is to extend the Patrie: The colonial mission of the Alliance Française’, French Historical Studies 40, 95–127. Joumas, G. (2001), ‘Louis Gallouédec, 1864–1937. Un vulgarisateur de la géographie engagé en politique’, in G. Baudelle, M.-V. Ozouf-Marignier and M.-C.Robic (eds), Géographes en pratiques: 1870–1945 le terrain, le livre, la cité. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 117–22. Joumas, G. (2006), Louis Gallouédec, 1864–1937: Géographe de la IIIe République. Orléans: Paradigme. Lefort, I. (1992), La Lettre et l’esprit: Géographie scolaire et géographie savante en France. Paris: Centre National de Recherche Scientifique. Lejeune, D. (1993), Les Sociétés de géographie en France et l’expansion coloniale au XIXe siècle. Paris: Albin Michel. Lethève, J. (1978), ‘En souvenir de Myriem Foncin, 1893–1976’, Bulletin d’Informations de l’Association des Bibliothécaires Français 100, 161–2. Lethève, J. (1993), ‘Myriem Foncin, 1893–1976’, Bulletin d’Informations de l’Association des Bibliothécaires Français 158, 99–100. Levasseur, E. and Himly, A. (1871), Rapport général sur l’enseignement de l’histoire et de la géographie, adressé à M. le ministre de l’Instruction publique et des cultes. Paris: Dupont. Martonne, E. de (1924), ‘Geography in France’, American Geographical Society Research Series 4a, 1–70. Mead, W. R. (1995), ‘Helen Wallis, 1924–1995’, Geographical Journal 161, 240–1.

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Meyer, M. (2004), ‘A propos de Jean Charles-Brun et du régionalisme’, in J. CharlesBrun, Le Régionalisme [2004 edition]. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 7–44. Nishiyama, N. (2008), ‘Pierre Foncin, fondateur de l’Alliance Française et l’enseignement de l’histoire: formation intellectuelle d’un républicain au XXe siècle’, Revue Japonaise de Didactique du Français 3, 42–59. Nishiyama, N. (2012), ‘Formation intellectuelle et politique de Pierre Foncin, fondateur de l’Alliance Française, et la réforme de la politique éducative au XIXe siècle’, Revue Japonaise de Didactique du Français 7, 52–67. Ozouf-Marignier, M.-V. (2001), ‘Engagement politique et essor de la géographie: Pierre Foncin, de Bordeaux à Douai’, in G. Baudelle, M.-V. Ozouf-Marignier and M.-C. Robic (eds), Géographes en pratiques: 1870–1945 le terrain, le livre, la cité. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 105–16. Ozouf-Marignier, M.-V. and Robic, M.-C. (2008), ‘Préface’, in L. Gallois [1908], Régions naturelles et noms de pays. Etude sur la région parisienne. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques. Péhaut, Y. (1994), ‘Géographie, colonies et commerce à Bordeaux, 1874–1939’, in M. Bruneau and D. Dory (eds), Géographie des colonisations, XVe–XXe siècles. Paris: L’Harmattan, 77–94. Pfister, C. (1912), Lorraine. Paris: Cerf. Pfister, C. (1917), ‘Pierre Foncin’, Revue Historique 124, 430–1. Rhein, C. (1982), ‘La géographie, discipline scolaire et/ou science sociale? 1860–1920’, Revue Française de Sociologie 23, 223–51. Roncière, M. de La (1978a), ‘Myriem Foncin, 1893–1976’, Annales de Géographie 87, 320–5. Roncière, M. de La (1978b), ‘Myriem Foncin, 1893–1976’, Imago Mundi 30, 95–8. Sagnes, S. (2005), ‘Les pays de Pierre Foncin’, Ethnologies Comparées 8, 1–16, halshs. archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-00138208/document. Sanguin, A. L. (1993), Vidal de La Blache: un génie de la géographie. Paris: Belin. Soubeyran, O. (1997), Imaginaire, science et discipline. Paris: L’Harmattan. Verdeil, E. (1997), ‘La limite ville-campagne dans les projets d’aménagement de la région parisienne de 1919 à 1939’, in V. Berdoulay and P. Claval (eds), Aux débuts de l’urbanisme français. Paris: L’Harmattan, 205–15. Vidal de La Blache, P. (1910), ‘Régions françaises’, Revue de Paris 15 December, 821–49. Vidal de La Blache, P. (1917), ‘Pierre Foncin’, Annales de Géographie 26, 67–70. Wallis, H. (1994), ‘Eila Muriel Joice Campbell 1915–1994’, Geographical Journal 160, 361. Wright, J. (2004), ‘Charles-Brun et l’idee du régionalisme: réalisme et réconciliation’, in J. Charles-Brun, Le Régionalisme [2004 edition]. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 45–60.

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2. Selected works by Pierre Foncin 1865 Guide historique, archéologique et descriptif de Carcassonne. Carcassonne: Pomiès. 1867 (with M. Vat) Cours complet de géographie. Paris: Gedalge. 1869 De quelques préjugés d’économie politique, réfutés par F. Bastiat. Paris: Hachette. 1873 Textes et récits d’histoire de France. Paris: Armand Colin. 1874–5a ‘De la géographie commerciale’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale 1, 246–50. 1874–5b ‘Introduction’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale 1, v–viii. 1875 La Première Année de géographie. Paris: Armand Colin. 1877a De Veteri Carcassonis civitate, de pago carcassonensi et de romanis itineribus quibus ille peragrabatur. Paris: Baillière. 1877b Essai sur le ministère de Turgot. Paris: Baillière. (Reprinted by SlatkineMegariotis Reprints, Geneva, 1976.) 1880 ‘Fondation d’un cours normal supérieur d’institutrice à Douai’, Revue Pédagogique 5, 631–2. 1883a ‘L’instruction des indigènes en Algérie’, Revue Internationale de l’Enseignement, 3–47. 1883b La Deuxième Année de géographie. Paris: Armand Colin. 1885a La Troisième Année de géographie. Paris: Armand Colin. 1885b ‘Discours du Congrès régional de Bergerac’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale, 501–4. 1886 ‘Algérie’, in A. Rambaud (ed.), La France coloniale. Paris: Armand Colin, 42–127. 1887a Géographie générale. Paris: Armand Colin. 1887b ‘Une société de géographie régionale’, Revue de Géographie Commerciale 1, 119–28. 1888 Géographie historique; leçons en regard des cartes. Paris: Armand Colin. 1889a Atlas général d’histoire et de géographie. Paris: Armand Colin. 1889b L’Alliance Française. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale. 1891 Géographie de la France. Paris: Armand Colin. (trans. as France. New York: International Publishing Company, 1902). 1892a Géographie générale du monde: géographie du bassin de la Méditerranée. Paris: Armand Colin. 1892b Rapport général sur le fonctionnement général de l’Ecole Coloniale. Paris: Journaux Officiels. 1892c ‘La France extérieure en 1891’, Annales de Géographie 1, 1–8. 1894 La Patrie française. Paris: Armand Colin.

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1895 ‘Notice sur Joseph Foncin’, Bulletin de l’Association des Anciens Elèves de l’Ecole Normale, 3–7. 1898 Les Pays de France. Projet de fédéralisme administratif. Paris: Armand Colin. 1900a Guide de la Cité de Carcassonne. Toulouse: Privat. 1900b ‘Introduction à l’étude des régions et pays de France’, Revue de Synthèse Historique 1, 14–20. 1900c ‘Les Maures et l’Estérel: un vieux pays de France’, Revue de Paris 15 July, 310–42. 1900d ‘Bordeaux et l’esprit colonial’, Bulletin de la Société de Géographie Commerciale, 129–36. 1903a Régions et pays. Toulouse: Société Provinciale d’Edition. 1903b Lectures géographiques illustrées. Paris: Armand Colin. 1910 Les Maures et l’Estérel. Paris: Armand Colin. 1911 Les Explorateurs. Paris: Armand Colin. 1914 ‘Remarques sur la généalogie des Turgot’, Revue Historique, 64–84.

3. Selected works by Myriem Foncin 1916 ‘La culture et le commerce des fleurs et primeurs sur la Côte d’Azur, de Toulon à Menton’, Annales de Géographie 25, 241–62. 1919 ‘Versailles, étude de géographie historique’, Annales de Géographie 28, 321–41. 1920a ‘Quelques réflexions géographiques à propos du concours pour le plan d’aménagement et d’extension de Paris’, La Vie Urbaine 2 (5), 77–89. 1920b ‘Belleville’, La Vie Urbaine 2 (11), 1–24. 1928 ‘Habitat rural dans les Maures’, in International Geographical Congress, Cambridge, July, 1928, Report of the Proceedings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 359–60. 1929 ‘Etude géographique de Paris; essai d’un programme de travail’, Bulletin de l’Association de Géographes Français 6, 5–10. 1931 ‘La Cité’, Annales de Géographie 40, 479–503. 1934 ’Evolution comparée de deux quartiers de Paris, la Cité et le Roule’, in Comptes Rendus du Congrès International de Géographie, Paris 1931, tome III. Paris: Armand Colin, 91. 1938 ‘Un projet de bibliographie cartographique internationale’, in Union Géographique Internationale. Comptes Rendus du Congrès International de Géographie, Amsterdam, 1938. Comptes Rendus, vol. 2(1). Leiden: Brill, 201–5. 1939 Bibliographie cartographique française. Paris: Comité National de Géographie Française. 1947 Bibliographie cartographique française, 1938–1945. Paris: Comité National de Géographie Française.

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1948 (with P. Sommer) Bibliographie cartographique internationale. Paris: Armand Colin. 1951 ‘Quelques cartes manuscrites de la Louisiane au temps de la Compagnie d’Occident 1717–1731’, in Comitato cittadino per la Celebrazioni Colombiane V Centenario della naççita de Cristofor Colombo. Convegno Internatiozionale di Studi Colomiani: Genoa, vol. 3, 147–54. 1952 ‘La cartographie française des Pyrénées’, Pirineos 24, 327–72. 1954 ‘Some observations on the organization of a large map library’, World Cartography 3, 33–40. 1954 ‘Les nouvelles installations du Département des cartes et plans de la Bibliothèque Nationale’, Bulletin d’Informations de l’Association des Bibliothécaires Français 15, 1–12. 1957a ‘De la notion de date pour les cartes’, in International Geographical Union, Proceedings of the 8th General Assembly and XVIIth International Congress, Washington, August 1952. Washington: National Academy of Sciences, 431–2. 1957b ‘La documentation géographique dans les bibliothèques français’, in G. Chabot, R. Clozier and J. Beaujeu-Garnier (eds), La Géographie française au milieu du XXe siècle. Paris: Baillière, 315–21. 1960a ‘L’histoire d’une collection de cartes réunies pour Louis XIV’, in J. Cain (ed.), Mélanges d’histoire du livre et des bibliothèques offerts à Monsieur Franz Calot. Paris: Argences, 119–26. 1960b ‘Some manuscript maps recently acquired by the Département des cartes et plans’, Imago Mundi 15, 40–5. 1961 (with M. de la Roncière) ‘Les cartes sur vélin de la Bibliothèque de la Société de Géographie’, Acta Geographica 40, 16–22. 1962 (with M. de la Roncière) ‘Les globes de Blaeu, conserves à la Bibliothèque nationale’, Actes du 87e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes, Poitiers. Section de Géographie. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 75–89. 1963 (with M. Destombes and M. de la Roncière) Catalogue des cartes nautiques sur vélin, conservées au Département des Cartes et Plans. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale. 1964 ‘Une carte manuscrite du Vivarais en 1626 par Pierre Bertius’, Actes du 89e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes, Lyon. Section de Géographie. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 159–66. 1965 ‘A manuscript economic map of France, end of the XVIIIth century’, Imago Mundi 19, 51–5. 1965 (with M. de la Roncière) ‘Jacques Maretz et la cartographie des Côtes de Provence au XVIIe siècle’, Actes du 90e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes, Nice. Section de Géographie. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 9–28.

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1966 (with M. de la Roncière) ‘Congrès international de géographie, Londres. Travaux des commissions; cartes anciennes’, Annales de Géographie 75, 156–7. 1967 ‘The Vinland Map and the Tartar relation’, Annales de Géographie 76, 198–200. 1970 ‘Collection de cartes d’un château bourguignon, le château de Bontin’, Actes du 95e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes, Reims. Section de Géographie. Paris: Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 43–73.

Chronology of Pierre Foncin and Myriem Foncin 1841

Birth of Pierre Foncin at Limoges, on 2 May

1860–3

Foncin studies at the Ecole Normale Supérieure

1863

Foncin succeeds in the concours d’agrégation d’histoire et géographie

1963–8

Foncin teaches at lycées at Carcassonne, Troyes and Mont-de-Marsan

1868

Foncin moves to Bordeaux

1873

Publication of Textes et récits d’histoire de France

1874

Inauguration of the Société de Géographie Commerciale in Bordeaux on 14 November; P. Foncin appointed special lecturer in colonial geography

1875

Publication of Première année de géographie

1876

Foncin obtains doctorat d’état in October; appointed professor of geography at the University of Bordeaux on 20 November

1878

Foncin inaugurates the Groupe géographique du Sud-Ouest

1879

Foncin appointed rector of the académie of Douai in April

1880

Foncin heads the Union géographique du Nord de la France; made Chevalier of the Légion d’Honneur

1881 1882

Foncin made director of secondary schooling Foncin appointed Inspecteur général de l’instruction publique for history and geography; made honorary member of the Société de Géographie de Lille

1884

Foncin co-founder of the Alliance Française

1887

Death of wife, Anne Foncin

1889

Foncin joins council of the Ecole Coloniale

1890

Foncin marries Jeanne Marie de Pozzi; purchase of land to build Lou Casteou dou Souleou

1892

Foncin publishes inaugural article in the Annales de Géographie

1893

Birth of Marie (Myriem) Josephine Lucie on 2 May

1900

Publication of first version of ‘Maures et l’Estérel’

1911

Foncin retires as general inspector of education

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235

Foncin elevated to Commandeur of the Légion d’Honneur; Myriem Foncin graduates in history and geography; and in science (1914)

1916

Pierre Foncin dies in Paris, 16 December

1919

Myriem Foncin publishes first academic paper on Paris

1920

Foncin joins the Equipes sociales; on 1 June is appointed as junior librarian in the maps section of the French National Library

1939

Foncin promoted to head of section

1942

Foncin promoted conservateur en chef of maps and plans; receives maps, books and periodicals from the Société de Geography de Paris

1945

Foncin elected president of the French association of librarians (1945–7) and again in 1958–61

1947

Foncin receives manuscript maps from the Hydrographic Service of the Navy

1952

Foncin visits United States and attends the 17th International Geographical Congress

1954

Foncin supervises completion of the renovated Tubeuf building

1961

Foncin awarded Gill Memorial Prize by the Royal Geographical Society

1963

Foncin retires from French National Library in March

1976

Foncin dies at Toulon on 5 January

1977

The ‘Domain Foncin’ donated to the Conservatoire du Littoral

1996

Death of Mireille Foncin in Paris, 19 October, at the age of 100

Index This index comprises: 1. A general index, including personal names, country names, institutions, organisations and some thematic entries 2. A cumulative index of biobibliographies included in this and previous volumes of Geographers.

General Index Abyssinia (Ethiopia) 112 Africa, and see constituent countries 12, 33, 46, 50, 79, 81, 158, 173, 210, 221 Albania 172, 174, 175 Algeria 156, 188, 214, 221 Allix, André 114, 144–45 Álvarez, Jacobo García- v American Geographical Society 33–4, 59, 74, 75 Ancel, Jacques 178 Antigua and Barbuda 43 Argentina 5, 87, 106 Asia, and see constituent countries 33, 50, 81, 121, 221 Association de Géographes Français 154, 160, 223 Association of American Geographers 35–6, 38–9, 40–1 Australasia 42, 78, 98 Australia 41, 43, 58, 87–8, 100, 107, 178 Austria 171, 175, 205 Baigent, Elizabeth v, 1 Baker, Alan 6, 9 Balchin, William 21, 81 Barnes, Trevor 40, 60 Bastié, Jean 185 Beaver, Stanley 5, 11, 20, 81 Beckinsale, Robert Percy 87 Belgium vi, 32, 33 Berdoulay, Vincent v Bibliothèque Nationale de France 224–7 Birot, Pierre 20

Bishop, George 80, 98 Blanchard, Raoul 4, 15, 19, 215 Bonneville, Marc 143, 159, 161, 162 Bowen, Emrys George 82, 93 Braudel, Fernand 123, 144, 146 Brazil v, 87, 109, 113, 128, 129, 134, 140, 146 British Geomorphological Research Group 89, 96 Brown, Eric Herbert 4, 11, 16, 18, 20, 77–107 Brown, Michae 99 Brown, W.J. 99 Brun, Jean Charles- 218 Brunhes, Jean 4, 19, 178, 216, 219 Brunsden, Denys 91, 98, 100 Buchanan, Robert Ogilvie 81, 83 Burgess, Jacquelin A. (Jacqui) 40, 60 Buttimer, Anne 11, 154 Camena d’Almeida, Pierre 213, 214 Cambio, Lucio 146 Cambodia 3 Campbell, Eila 226 Canada v, 3, 9, 39, 79, 97 Cape Verde v Carter, Francis William (Frank) 10, 11 Cartography, including maps 3, 12, 18, 29, 32, 34, 35, 52, 56, 79, 89, 90, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 100, 111, 112, 115, 117, 118, 122, 128, 170, 172, 177, 179, 187, 192, 198, 208, 215, 222–227 Cavaillès, Henri 214

Index Célérier, Jean 3, 4, 13, 21 Chandler, Tony John 11, 95 Châtaigneau, Yves 178 Chatelain, Abel 5, 21, 152 Chile 87, 106 China 90, 98, 107, 148 Chisholm, Michael 89 Cholley, André 19, 111, 115 Church, Ronald James Harrison 81 City University of New York 36, 41 Clark, Andrew Hill 34 Clark University 35, 39, 41 Clarke, Colin 37, 60 Claval, Paul 134 Clayton, Keith 96, 99 Clout, Hugh viii, 1–235 Coleman, Alice 81 Collège d’Europe, Bruges 114, 128, 130, 140 Collège de France, Paris 17, 109, 114, 128, 130, 131, 140, 147, 207, 219 Columbia University 32, 33, 35, 39 Comité National de Géographie 225 Commercial geography 210, 211, 221 Commerçon, Nicole 135, 159 Cooke, Ronald Urwick 60, 90, 97, 100 Coppock, John Terrence 11, 12, 84 Cornish, Reginald Thomas 83 Cronon, William 52 Cvijić, Jovan 173, 178 Cyprus 148 Cuba 148 Czechoslovakia 32 Darby, Henry Clifford 4, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 17, 19, 34, 38, 82, 84, 85, 86, 93, 97, 98 Daus, Federico 87 Davis, William Morris 91 Delvert, Charles 13, 21 Delvert, Jean 3, 13, 21 Demangeon, Albert 12, 17, 111, 112, 113, 115, 117, 119, 130, 170, 171, 173, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 182, 186, 188, 200, 222 Derbyshire, Edward 90 Dickinson, Robert Eric 83 Dion, Roger 8, 114 Dresch, Jean 4, 6, 19, 155

237

Dubois, Marcel 4, 5, 19, 220 Dumolard, Pierre 159 Dylik, Jan 95 East, William Gordon 4, 20, 47 Ecole Normale Supérieure, Paris 109, 111, 135, 140, 179, 206, 208, 209, 211, 220, 234 Egypt 50, 148 Embleton, Clifford 93 Europe, and see constituent countries 4, 7, 12, 14, 30, 31, 33, 39, 42, 45, 48, 50, 52, 58, 59, 74, 79, 109, 114, 121, 126, 128, 130, 131, 134, 140, 147, 149, 151, 152, 186, 191, 193, 200, 215, 218, 219, 221, 222, 227 Faucher, Daniel 4, 5, 19 Fawcett, Charles Bungay 11, 83 Fel, André 4, 13, 15, 20 Ferretti, Federico v Fichelle, Alfred 176 Fiji 88 Finland 3, 83 First World War 8, 12, 14, 17, 111, 144, 175, 179, 188, 200, 220, 223 Fisher, Charles Alfred 82 Fogg, Walter 82 Foncin, Myriem 13, 18, 20, 207, 216, 222–230, 232–5 Foncin, Pierre 13, 18, 207–222, 227–235 France v, vi, 1–26, 30, 31, 32, 39, 48, 60, 80, 81, 109–235 Franco-Prussian War 207, 210 French, Richard Anthony (Tony) 11, 84, 100 Friedberg, Marcella Schmidt di v Gade, Daniel 43, 53, 54 Gallois, Lucien 19, 216, 222, 224 Garcia, João Carlos vi Garnier, Jacqueline Beaujeu- 4, 19, 122, 128, 146 Gebelin, Jacques 213 Gentilcore, Rocco Louis 85 Géographie Universelle 20, 111 Geomorphology 77–107 George, Pierre 4, 19, 114, 123, 134, 146, 147, 155

238

Index

Germany v, 8, 32, 121, 144, 175, 189, 207, 210 Gibert, André 128, 144 Glacken, Clarence James 35 Glasscock, Robin 9 Goblet, Yves-Marie 225, 226 Gottman, Jean 5, 11, 19, 32, 33, 60, 84, 120, 132 Gravier, (Marie René) Gaston 4, 13, 14, 17, 20, 169–178, 200–202, 205–6 Gravier, Jean-François 13, 17, 18, 20, 169, 179–200, 202–6 Greece 111, 130 Gregory, Kenneth John 90, 93, 96, 100 Groupe Géographique du Sud-Ouest 213, 234 Guilcher, André 20, 127 Guinea 33 Harris, Cole 48, 59 Harris, David 11 Hartshorne, Richard 34 Harvard University, including Harvard Law School and Radcliffe College 28, 29, 36, 38, 39, 41, 74 Harvey, David Charles 56 Hauser, Henri 179, 191 Heffernan, Michael v Hemming, John 89 Himly, Louis-Auguste 207 Hitchcock, Charles Baker 35 Iceland 87, 98, 108, 158 Indonesia 148 Institute of British Geographers 81, 82, 89, 90, 96, 107 International Geographical Congress (IGC) 6, 11, 34, 36, 38, 74, 84, 90, 106, 107, 223, 224, 225, 235 International Geographical Union (IGU) iii, v, 6, 90, 95, 225, 226 Ireland v, 126 Italy 5, 34, 52, 58, 111, 112, 113, 129, 130, 140, 147, 148, 151, 158, 161 Jagiellonian University, Kraków 95 Jahn, Alfred 95 Jamaica 36 James, Preston Everett 89

Japan v, 49, 82, 90, 107, 122, 148 Johnson, Basil 81 Johnson, Douglas W. 91 Johnson, James H. 11, 84, 85, 100 Johnson, Nuala 51 Johnston, Ronald John 11, 40, 60, 100 Jones, Emrys 82, 83 Jones, Michael 60 Juillard, Etienne 146, 152 Kidson, Clarence 81, 94 Klimaszewski, Mieczysław 95 Laferrère, Michel 146 Latin America, see South America Lebon, John Harold George 81 Lebanon 114, 140 Lebeau, René 144, 146, 148 Leibniz-Institut für Länderkunde v Leighly, John 34 Le Lannou, Maurice 7, 16, 17, 18, 20, 109–141, 144, 145, 146, 147, 157 Levainville, Jacques 4, 5, 20, 176 Linton, David Leslie 89, 91, 93, 96 Lithuania 28 Livingstone, David 53 Lorin, Henri 214 Lowenthal, David 1, 4, 5, 8, 11, 16, 18, 20, 27–75, 88 Luxembourg 32 Lyde, Lionel William 11, 19 Maconochie [formerly M’Konochie], Alexander 10 Malta 58 Manners, Gerald 11 Marchand, Bernard 198 Marignier, Marie-Vic Ozouf- v Marsh, George Perkins 34, 35, 42, 45, 52–4, 58, 59, 74, 75 Martin, Geoffrey 53 Martonne, Emmanuel de 111, 115, 179, 222 Mason, Kenneth 12 Massachusetts Institute of Technology 35 Mead, William Richard 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 11, 12, 15, 20, 34, 48, 79, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 91, 98, 100, 106, 226 Memorial University of Newfoundland 59, 75

Index Mercier, Guy v Meynier, André 5, 20, 113 Mexico 148 Middle East, and see constituent countries 34, 114, 140, 148, 188 Miller, Austin 92 Monash University 87, 107 Monbeig, Pierre 4, 19, 128, 155 Montenegro 174 Morocco 1, 2, 3, 4, 13, 21, 148 Müller, Nice Lecocq- 128 Muller, Charles Robert- 113 Munton, Richard 60 Musset, René 4, 19 Nascimento, Judite v Netherlands, The 213, 224 New Caledonia 148 New Guinea 88 New Zealand 41, 88 Nigeria 87, 106 North America, and see its constituent countries 35, 36, 37, 40, 41, 42, 81, 84, 148, 151, 154 Norway 58, 78 Novaes, Andre Reyes v, 1 Olsen, Constance 83 Osaka Prefecture University v Packard, William Percival 100 Papy, Louis 128 Parry, Maurice 81 Pelletier, Jean 146 Perpillou, Aimé 4, 12, 19, 127, 201 Phillips, Anthony 6 Pinchemel, Philippe 4, 19, 193 Pitte, Jean-Robert 197 Poland 95, 96, 98, 106 Portugal 5, 128 Price, Robert John 87 Prince, Hugh Counsell 4, 6, 7, 8, 11, 14, 15, 20, 36, 40, 74, 84, 85, 97, 100, 135 Prost, Brigitte 129, 135 Prussia, and see Germany 144, 207, 210 Puyo, Jean-Yves vi Rees, Alwyn David 82 Renucci, Jeannine 147, 161

239

Rice, R. John 93, 100 Richards, Keith 100 Riel, Marquita 39 Robequain, Charles 3, 4, 19 Robinson, David 60, 87, 100 Rochefort, Michel 146 Rochefort, Renée 4, 17, 18, 20, 130, 143–167, 213 Roncayolo, Marcel 21, 197 Royal Geographical Society (of London), including the Royal Geographical Society with the Institute of British Geographers 11, 16, 59, 75, 78, 80, 86, 89, 90, 91, 98, 100, 106, 107, 226, 235 Royal Scottish Geographical Society 59, 75 Russia, including USSR 32, 34, 49, 121, 171, 179 St Mary’s University College, Twickenham 42, 75 Sauer, Carl Ortwin 33, 34, 43 Schelhaas, Bruno v Second World War, including wartime political regimes 1, 8, 9, 12, 28, 29–33, 77, 79, 118, 151, 169, 180–82, 186, 187, 194, 198, 224 Seïté, Alice Saunier- 4, 5, 20 Sénégal 210, 211 Serbia 17, 169, 171–80, 199 Sheail, John 9 Siegfried, André 19, 32, 132 Sion, Jules 7, 111 Sivignon, Michel 130, 135, 147, 162 Slaymaker, Olav 6 Smailes, Arthur Eltringham 7, 83, 85 Société de Géographie Commerciale de Bordeaux 211, 213, 234 Société de Géographie Commerciale de Paris 172 Société de Géographie de Lille 177, 234 Société de Géographie de Paris 118, 127, 154, 185, 206, 219, 225, 226 Société de Géographie de Lyon 114, 130, 140, 152, 160, 161 South America, including Latin America, and see its constituent countries 33, 37, 87 Southern Connecticut State University v Spain 5, 99, 112, 148

240

Index

Sparks, Bruce 81 Spate, Oskar Hermann Khristian 81 Stamp, Lawrence Dudley 81 Steel, Robert 39, 40 Stevenson, Iain 6 Stoddart, David 90 Sutton, Keith 6 Sweden 38, 44, 74 Sweeting, Marjorie 90, 93 Tahiti 148 Tamami, Fukuda v Taylor, Eva Germaine Rimington 4, 19 Tibet 90, 107 Tunisia 99, 218 Turkey 34 Union géographique du Nord de la France 214, 234 United Kingdom including England, Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales v, vi, 1–26, 39–75, 77–107, 126 United States of America 27–39, 52, 84, 95, 97, 106, 112, 121, 181, 189, 225, 235 Universidad Carlos III de Madrid C v Universidad de Buenos Aires v Universidade de Cabo Verde v Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro v Universidade do Porto vi Université de Laval v Université de Pau et des Pays de l’Adour v, vi University College Dublin v University of Algiers 147 University of Belgrade 171, 178, 180, 205, 206 University of Bordeaux 211, 212, 220, 227, 234 University of California, Berkeley 33, 35, 42, 74 University of Cambridge including its constituent colleges 9, 12, 86, 189, 223 University of Catania 146 University of Clermont-Ferrand 13, 15, 20 University of Edinburgh vi University of Georgia (USA) 42 University of Glasgow 87 University of Grenoble 4, 8, 15, 117 University of Ibadan 87, 106

University of Indiana, Bloomington 85, 106 Université de Liège vi University of Lille 170, 173, 176, 177, 200, 205 University of Liverpool 82, 83 University of Łódź 95 University of London and its constituent parts and ex-constituent parts including Birkbeck College, King’s College, London School of Economics, Queen Mary College, University College, Warburg Institute 1– 26, 39–75, 77–107 University of Lyon and its constituent parts 17, 109, 113, 114, 118, 129, 130, 133, 135, 140, 144–167, 181 University of Messina 146 University of Milan v University of Minnesota 28, 61 University of Montpellier 111 University of Nancy 220 University of Nottingham v University of Quebec at Montreal / Université du Québec à Montréal 39 University of Oxford including its constituent colleges and press v, 11, 12, 41, 42, 82, 87, 90, 189 University of Palermo 146 University of Paris / Université de Paris, and its constituent parts including the Sorbonne 7, 12, 21, 109, 111, 114, 170, 189, 200, 206, 220, 223 University of Rennes 109, 113, 124, 126, 140 University of Strasbourg 146, 155 University of Syracuse 35, 45 University of the West Indies and its constituent parts including the Institute of Social and Economic Research 36, 74 University of Wales and its constituent parts including at Aberystwyth 82, 83, 91, 106 University of Washington 35, 42 University of Wisconsin–Madison 52 University of Wrocław 95 Vandersmissen, Jan vi Vant, André 147, 159, 162

Index Vassar College 34, 35, 42, 74 Verner Germaine, Veyret- 4, 13, 15, 20, 146, 152, 153 Veyret, Paul 4, 8, 13, 15, 20, 128 Vidal de La Blache, Paul 4, 18, 19, 20, 111, 115, 135, 170, 177, 179, 209, 216, 218, 220, 221, 222 Vietnam 3 Wallis, Helen 118, 226 Wallis and Futuna Islands (Polynesia) 148 Ward, Marion 80, 88, 91, 98, 100 Ward, Ralph Gerard 80, 88, 91, 98, 100 Warren, Andrew 89, 100 Waters, Ronald Sidney 89, 93 Watson, Edward 82 West Indies, including the Caribbean 5, 27, 34, 36, 37, 40, 41, 42, 43, 74

241

Wheatley, Paul 39, 83, 86, 88 Williams, Michael 11, 43 Wise, Michael 90 Withers, Charles W. J. vi Wood, H. John 81 Wood, Peter 10 Wooldridge, Sidney William 18, 77–107 Woolf, Penelope 7 Wright, John Kirtland 38, 41 Wynn, Graeme 45 Yacher, Leon v Yugoslavia, and see constituent parts 113, 140, 169–178, 200–202, 205 Zusman, Perla v

Cumulative Index Abreu, Mauricio de Almeida (1948–2011) 35, 145–62 Adair, John (1660–1718) 20, 1–8 Al-Biruni (Abu’Rayhan Muhammad) (973–1054) 13, 1–9 Al-Hasan see Leo Africanus Al-Kindi (801–873) 17, 1–8 Almangià, Roberto (1884–1962) 13, 11–15 Al-Muqaddasi (c. 945–c. 988) 4, 1–6 Ancel, Jacques (1882–1943) 3, 1–6 André, Isabel Margarida de Almeida (1956–2017) 38, 199–226 Anuchin, Dmitry Nikolaevich (1843– 1923) 2, 1–8 Apianus, Peter (1495 or 1501–52) 6, 1–6 Arbos, Philippe (1882–1956) 3, 7–12, 36, 209–49 Arden-Close, Charles Frederick (1865– 1952) 9, 1–13 Armstrong, Terence Edward (1920–96) 18, 1–9 Arqué, Paul (1887–1970) 7, 5–9 Aschmann, Homer (1920–92) 24, 1–27 Atwood, Wallace Walter (1872–1949) 3, 13–18 Aurousseau, Marcel (1891–1983) 12, 1–8

Baber, Mary Arizona (Zonia) (1862–1956) 30, 68–79 Baines, Thomas (1820–75) 23, 1–13 Baker, John Norman Leonard (1893– 1971) 16, 1–11 Baker, Samuel John Kenneth (1907–92) 22, 1–11 Banse, Ewald (1883–1953) 8, 1–5 Baranskiy, Nikolay Nikolayevich (1881– 1963) 10, 1–16 Barbour, George Brown (1890–1977) 23, 14–34 Barker, Mabel Mary (1885–1961) 33, 107–36 Bates, Henry Walter (1852–92) 11, 1–5 Baulig, Henri (1877–1962) 4, 7–17 Beaufort, Francis (1774–1857) 19, 1–15 Beaujeu-Garnier, Jacqueline (1917–95) 28, 133–48 Beaver, Stanley Henry (1907–84) 36, 129–56 Beckinsale, Robert Percy (1908–98) 22, 12–27 Bentivoglio, Marie (1898–1997) 38, 45–135 Berg, Lev Semenovich (1876–1950) 5, 1–7 Bernard, Augustin (1865–1947) 3, 19–27

242 Bingham, Millicent Todd (1880–1968) 11, 7–12 Birot, Pierre (1909–84) 34, 11–36 Blache, Jules (1893–1970) 1, 1–8 Blanchard, Raoul (1877–1965) 32, 6–32 Blaut, James Morris (1927–2000) 27, 107–30 Blodget, Lorin (1823–1901) 5, 9–12 Bobek, Hans (1903–90) 16, 12–22 Bonney, Thomas George (1833–1923) 17, 9–16 Bose, Nirmal Kumas (1901–72) 2, 9–11 Bowen, Emrys George (1900–83) 10, 17–23 Bowman, Isaiah (1878–1950) 1, 9–18 Brahe, Tycho (1546–1601) 27, 1–27 Bratescu, Constantin (1882–1945) 4, 19–24 Braudel, Fernand (1902–85) 22, 28–42 Brawer, Abraham Jacob (1884–1975) 12, 9–19 Brigham, Albert Perry (1855–1929) 2, 13–19 Broek, Jan Otto Marius (1904–74) 22, 43–62 Brooks, Alfred Hulse (1871–1924) 1, 19–23 Brooks, Charles Franklin (1891–1958) 18, 10–20 Brown, Eric Herbert (1922–2018) 39, 77–107 Brown, Ralph Hall (1898–1948) 9, 15–20 Brown, Robert Neal Rudmose (1879– 1957) 8, 7–16 Bruce, William Speirs (1867–1921) 17, 17–25 Brunhes, Jean (1869–1930) 25, 1–12 Buache, Philippe (1700–73) 9, 21–7 Bujak, Franciszek (1875–1953) 16, 23–30 Busching, Anton Friedrich (1724–93) 6, 7–15 Buttimer, Anne (1938–2017) 37, 13–40 Buxton, Elizabeth Mary (1926–2009) 38, 45–135 Camden, William (1551–1623) 27, 28–42 Camena d’Almeida, Pierre (1865–1943) 7, 1–4 Capot-Rey, Robert (1897–1977) 5, 13–19

Index Carandell y Pericay, Juan (1893–1937) 30, 107–33 Carey, Henry Charles (1793–1879) 10, 25–8 Carter, George F. (1912–2004) 26, 27–49 Cavaillès, Henri (1870–1951) 7, 5–9 Chataigneau, Yves (1891–1969) 35, 63–95 Chatterjee, Shiba P. (1903–89) 18, 21–35 Chisholm, George Goudie (1850–1930) 12, 21–33 Cholley, André (1886–1968) 31, 104–18 Chorley, Richard John (1927–2002) 28, 67–90 Christaller, Walter (1893–1969) 7, 11–16 Chulalongkorn, King of Siam (1853–1910) 21, 65–1 Church, James Edward, Jr (1869–1959) 22, 63–71 Clapperton, Hugh (1788–1827) 28, 149–67 Clark, Andrew Hill (1911–75) 14, 13–25 Clements, Frederic Edward (1874–1945) 18, 36–46 Clermont-Ferrand, the first five professors of geography at (1882–2009) 36, 209–49 Codazzi, Augustin (1793–1859) 12, 35–47 Colamonico, Carmelo (1882–1973) 12, 49–58 Colby, Charles Carlyle (1884–1965) 6, 17–22 Conea, Ion (1902–74) 12, 59–72 Cook, James (1728–79) 20, 9–23 Cooley, William (1795–1883) 27, 43–62 Copernicus, Nicholas (1473–1543) 6, 23–9 Coppock, John Terence (Terry) (1921– 2000) 26, 6–26 Cornish, Vaughan (1862–1948) 9, 29–35 Cortambert, Eugène (1805–81) 2, 21–5 Cosgrove, Denis Edmund (1948–2008) 29, 127–50 Cotton, Charles Andrew (1885–1970) 2, 27–32 Cowles, Henry Chandler (1869–1939) 10, 29–33 Cressey, George Babcock (1896–1963) 5, 21–5 Cuisinier, Louis (1883–1952) 16, 96–100

Index Cumberland, Kenneth (1913–2011) 31, 137–60 Cvijić, Jovan (1865–1927) 4, 25–32 d’Abbadie, Antoine (1810–97) 3, 29–33 Daly, Charles Patrick (1816–99) 28, 107–20 Dana, James Dwight (1813–95) 15, 11–20 Dantín-Cereceda, Juan (1881–1943) 10, 35–40 Darby, Henry Clifford (1909–92) 26, 79–97 Darwin, Charles (1809–82) 9, 37–45 David, Mihai (1886–1954) 6, 31–3 Davidson, George (1825–1911) 2, 33–7 Davis, William Morris (1850–1934) 5, 27–33 de Brahm, William Gerard (1718–99) 10, 41–7 de Capell Brooke, Arthur (1791–1858) 32, 149–64 de Charpentier, Jean (1786–1855) 7, 17–22 de Margerie, Emmanuel (1862–1953) 32, 33–53 de Martonne, Emmanuel (1873–1955) 12, 73–81 Dee, John (1527–1608) 10, 49–55 Deffontaines, Pierre (1894–1978) 30, 175–97 Defos du Rau, Jean (1914–94) 37, 133–154 Demangeon, Albert (1872–1940) 11, 13–21 Denis, Pierre (1883–1951) 35, 63–95 Derruau, Max (1920–2004) 36, 209–49 Díaz Covarrubias, Francisco (1833–89) 19, 16–26 Dicken, Samuel N. (1901–89) 13, 17–22 Dickinson, Robert Eric (1905–81) 8, 17–25 Dimitrescu-Aldem, Alexandre (1880– 1917) 3, 35–7 Dion, Roger (1896–1981) 18, 47–52 Dokuchaev, Vasily Vasilyevich (1846– 1903) 4, 33–42 Doughty, Charles Montagu (1843–1926) 21, 1–13 Doveton, Dorothy Mary (1913–1981) 38, 45–135 Drapeyron, Ludovic (1839–1901) 6, 35–8

243

Dresch, Jean (1905–94) 31, 81–103 Dryer, Charles Redaway (1850–1927) 11, 23–6 Drygalski, Erich von (1865–1949) 7, 23–9 Dubois, Marcel (1856–1916) 30, 134–51 Dunbar, (Isobel) Moira (1918–1999) 38, 45–135 Dunbar, William (1749–1810) 19, 27–36 East, William Gordon (1902–98) 35, 121–44 Elton, Charles Sutherland (1900–91) 21, 14–27 Eratosthenes (c. 275–c. 195 bc) 2, 39–43 Estienne, Pierre (1923–96) 36, 209–49 Evans, Emyr Estyn (1905–89) 25, 13–23 Everest, Sir George (1790–1866) 15, 21–36 Eyre, Edward John (1815–1901) 15, 37–50 Fabricius, Johann Albert (1668–1736) 5, 35–9 Fairgrieve, James (1870–1953) 8, 27–33 Faucher, Daniel (1882–1970) 31, 119–36 Fawcett, Charles Bungay (1883–1952) 6, 39–46 Febvre, Lucien (1878–1956) 23, 35–49 Fedchenko, Alexei Pavlovich (1844–73) 8, 35–8 Fel, André (1926–2009) 36, 209–49 Fenneman, Nevin Melancthon (1865– 1945) 10, 57–68 Fitzroy, Robert (1805–65) 11, 27–33 Fleure, Herbert John (1877–1969) 11, 35–51 Foncin, Myriem (1893–1976) 39, 207–35 Foncin, Pierre (1841–1916) 39, 207–35 Forbes, James David (1809–68) 7, 31–7 Formozov, Alexander Nikolayevich (1899–1973) 7, 39–46 Forrest, Alexander (1849–1901) 8, 39–43 Forrest, John (1847–1918) 8, 39–43 Forsaith, Dorothy (1885–1972) 38, 45–135 Fox, Cyril (1882–1967) 23, 50–60 Franz, Johann Michael (1700–61) 5, 41–8 Freeman, Thomas Walter (1908–88) 22, 72–90 Freshfield, Douglas William (1845–1934) 13, 23–31

244 Gachon, Lucien (1894–1984) 36, 209–49 Gallois, Lucien (1857–1941) 24, 28–41 Gannett, Henry (1846–1914) 8, 45–9 Garcia Cubas, Antonio (1832–1912) 22, 91–8 Gavira Martin, José (1903–51) 19, 37–49 Geddes, Arthur (1895–1968) 2, 45–51 Geddes, Patrick (1854–1932) 2, 53–65 Geikie, Archibald (1835–1924) 3, 39–52 Gentilli, Joseph (Giuseppe) (1912–2000) 25, 34–41 George, Pierre (1909–2006) 29, 35–56 Gerald of Wales see Giraldus Cambrensis Gerasimov, Innokentii Petrovich (1905– 85) 12, 83–93 Gilbert, Edmund William (1900–73) 3, 63–71 Gilbert, Grove Karl (1843–1918) 1, 25–33 Gillman, Clement (1882–1946) 1, 35–41 Giraldus Cambrensis (c. 1146–1223) 21, 28–45 Glacken, Clarence James (1909–89) 14, 27–41 Glareanus, Henricus (1488–1563) 5, 49–54 Gmelin, Johann Georg (1709–55) 13, 33–7 Goblet, Yann-Morvran (1881–1955) 13, 39–44 Goode, John Paul (1862–1932) 8, 51–5 Gottmann, Jean (1915–94) 25, 42–59 Gould, Peter Robin (1932–2000) 24, 42–62 Gourou, Pierre (1900–99) 25, 60–80 Goyder, George Woodroffe (1826–98) 7, 47–50 Gradmann, Robert (1865–1950) 6, 47–54 Grano, Johannes Gabriel (1882–1956) 3, 73–84 Gravier, Gaston (1886–1915) 39, 169–206 Gravier, Jean-François (1915–2005) 39, 169–206 Greely, Adolphus Washington (1844– 1935) 17, 26–42 Gregor, Howard F. (1920–2000) 27, 131–42 Gregory, Augustus Charles (1819–1905) 23, 61–72

Index Gregory, Francis Thomas (1821–88) 23, 61–72 Gregory, John Walter (1864–1932) 23, 73–84 Gregory, Stanley (1926–2016) 37, 39–104 Grenard, Fernand (1866–1942) 35, 63–95 Grey, George (1812–98) 22, 99–111 Grigoryev, Andrei Alexandrovich (1883–1968) 5, 55–61 Guilcher, André (1913–93) 33, 43–68 Guyot, Arnold Henry (1807–84) 5, 63–71 Hägerstrand, Torsten (1916–2004) 26, 119–57 Hall, Sir Peter Geoffrey, (1932–2014) 36, 11–49 Hall, Robert Burnett (1896–1975) 25, 81–92 Hare, F. Kenneth (1919–2002) 25, 93–108 Harris, David Russell (1930–2013) 35, 33–62 Hassert, Ernst Emil Kurt (1868–1947) 10, 69–76 Hatt, Gudmund (1844–1960) 28, 19–40 Hauser, Henri (1866–1946) 26, 50–66 Haushofer, Karl (1869–1946) 12, 95–106 Hepple, Leslie Wilson (1947–2007) 29, 73–96 Herbertson, Andrew John (1865–1915) 3, 85–92 Herbertson, Fanny Louisa Dorothea (1864–1915) 38, 45–135 Herder, Johann Gottfried (1744–1803) 10, 77–84 Hettner, Alfred (1859–1941) 6, 55–63 Heyleyn, Peter (1599–1661) 28, 1–18 Himly, Louis-Auguste (1832–1906) 1, 43–7 Ho, Robert (1921–72) 1, 49–54 Höhnel, Ludwig von (1857–1942) 7, 43–7 Holmes, James Macdonald (1896–1966) 7, 51–5 Howitt, Alfred William (1830–1908) 15, 51–60 Hughes, William (1818–76) 9, 47–53 Huguet del Villar, Emilio (1871–1951) 9, 55–60 Hull House Geography (1889–1963) 33, 137–65

Index Hult, Ragnar (1857–99) 9, 61–9 Hutchings, Geoffrey Edward (1900–64) 2, 67–71 Ibn Battuta (1304–78) 14, 1–11 Iglésies-Fort, Josep (1902–86) 12, 107–11 Iizuka, Koji (1906–70) 28, 57–66 Ilešic´, Svetozar (1907–85) 11, 53–61 Isachsen, Fridtjov Eide (1906–79) 10, 85–92 Isida, Ryuziro (1904–79) 15, 61–74 James, Preston Everett (1899–1986) 11, 63–70 Jobberns, George (1895–1974) 5, 73–6 Johnston, Alexander Keith (1844–79) 26, 98–109 Jones, Llewellyn Rodwell (1881–1947) 4, 49–53 Kant, Edgar (1902–78) 11, 71–82 Kant, Immanuel (1724–1804) 4, 55–67 Keckermann, Bartholamäus (1572–1609) 2, 73–9 Keltie, John Scott (1840–1927) 10, 93–8 Kendrew, Wilfrid George (1884–1962) 17, 43–51 Kennedy, Barbara Anne (1943–2014) 38, 45–135 Kim, Chong-ho (c. 1804–66) 16, 37–44 Kingsley, Mary Henrietta (1862–1900) 19, 50–65 Kirchoff, Alfred (1838–1907) 4, 69–76 Komarov, Vladimir Leontyevitch (1862– 1914) 4, 77–86 Koslov, Pyotr Kuz’mich (1863–1935) 34, 127–64 Kraus, Theodor (1894–1973) 11, 83–7 Kropotkin, Pyotr (Peter) Alexeivich (1842–1921) 7, 57–62, 63–9 Krümmel, Johann Gottfried Otto (1854– 1912) 10, 99–104 Kubary, Jan Stanislaw (1846–96) 4, 87–9 Larcom, Thomas Aiskew (1801–79) 7, 71–4 Lattimore, Owen (1900–89) 20, 24–42 Lautensach, Hermann (1886–1971) 4, 91–101

245

Lawton, Richard (1925–2010) 32, 104–23 Learmonth, Andrew Thomas Amos (1916–2008) 29, 97–126 Lefèvre, Marguerite Alice (1894–1967) 10, 105–10 Leichhardt, Friedrich (1813–48) 17, 52–67 Leighly, John (1895–1986) 12, 113–19 Le Lannou, Maurice (1906–92) 39, 109–41 Lelewel, Joachim (1786–1861) 4, 103–12 Lencewicz, Stanislaw (1899–1944) 5, 77–81 Leo Africanus (Al-Hasan ibn Muhammad al Wazzân az-Zayyâtî) (c. 1499–1550) 15, 1–9 Leopold, Luna Bergere (1915–2006) 30, 80–106 Lepekhin, Ivan Ivanovich (1740–1802) 12, 121–3 Levainville, Jacques (1869–1932) 35, 163–83 Levasseur, Emile (1828–1911) 2, 81–7 Lewis, William Vaughan (1907–61) 4, 113–20 Lhwyd (Lhuyd), Edward (1660–1709) 24, 63–78 Li Daoyuan (fl c. ad 500) 12, 125–31 Linton, David Leslie (1906–71) 7, 75–83 Llobet i Reverter, Salvador (1908–91) 19, 66–74 Lluch i Martin, Enric (1928–2012) 35, 95–120 Lobeck, Armin Kohl (1886–1958) 22, 112–31 Lomonosov, Mikhail Vasilyevich (1711– 65) 6, 65–70 Lowenthal, David (1923–2018) 39, 27–75 Lyde, Lionel William (1863–1947) 30, 1–21 MacCarthy, Oscar (1815–94) 8, 57–60 McConnell, Anita (1936–2016) 36, 157–80 McGee, William John (1853–1912) 10, 111–16 MacKinder, Halford John (1861–1947) 9, 71–86 MacMunn, Nora Eileen (1875–1967) 38, 45–135 McNee, Robert Bruce (1922–92) 25, 109–21

246 Magellan, Ferdinand (c. 1480–1521) 18, 53–66 Makarov, Stepan Osipovich (1848–1904) 11, 89–92 Makiguchi, Tsunesaburo (1871–1944) 20, 43–56 Malthus, Thomas Robert (1766–1834) 20, 57–67 Marinelli, Giovanni (1846–1900) 33, 69–105 Marinelli, Olinto (1874–1926) 33, 69–105 Marsden, Kate (1859–1931) 27, 63–92 Marshall, Mary (1917–1983) 38, 45–135 Martineau, Harriet (1802–76) 21, 46–64 Marx, Karl (1818–83) 19, 75–85 Mason, Kenneth J. (1887–1976) 18, 67–72 Massey, Doreen Barbara, (1944–2016) 38, 15–44 Mather, Cotton (1918–99) 23, 85–96 Mattres, François Emile (1874–1948) 14, 43–57 Maurette, Fernand (1878–1937) 35, 63–94 Maury, Matthew Fontaine (1806–73) 1, 59–63 May, Jacques M. (1896–1975) 7, 85–8 Mead, William Richard (1915–2014) 36, 89–128 Mehedinti, Simion (1868–1962) 1, 65–72 Melanchthon, Philippe (1497–1560) 3, 93–7 Melik, Anton (1890–1966) 9, 87–94 Mendöl, Tibor (1905–66) 28, 41–56 Mentelle, Edmunde (1730–1815) 11, 93–104 Mentelle, François-Simon (1731–99) 11, 93–104 Meuriot, Paul (1861–1919) 16, 45–52 Meynier, André (1901–83) 36, 181–207 Mihailescu, Vintila (1890–1978) 8, 61–7 Miklouho-Maclay, Nikolai Nikolaevich (1846–88) 22, 132–40 Mill, Hugh Robert (1861–1950) 1, 73–8 Milne, Geoffrey (1898–1942) 2, 89–92 Milojevic´, Borivoje ŽÆ (1885–1967) 23, 97–104 Mitchell, Thomas Livingstone (1792– 1855) 5, 83–7 Monbeig, Pierre (1908–87) 32, 54–78

Index Mongkut, King of Siam (1804–68) 21, 65–71 Mueller, Ferdinand Jakob Heinrich von (1825–96) 5, 89–93 Muir, John (1838–1914) 14, 59–67 Munster, Sebastian (1488–1552) 3, 99–106 Mushetov, Ivan Vasylievitch (1850–1902) 7, 89–91 Musset, René (1881–1977) 31, 74–80 Myres, John Linton (1869–1954) 16, 53–62 Nakanome, Akira (1874–1959) 20, 68–76 Nalkowski, Waclaw (1851–1911) 13, 45–52 Nansen, Fridtjof (1861–1930) 16, 63–79 Nelson, Helge (1882–1966) 8, 69–75 Neustruev, Sergei Semyonovich (1874– 1928) 8, 77–80 Newbigin, Marion Isabel (1869–1968) 28, 121–32 Nielsen, Niels (1893–1981) 10, 117–24 Oberhummer, Eugen (1859–1944) 7, 93–100 Obruchev, Vladimir Afanas’yevich (1863–1956) 11, 105–10 Odauchi, Michitoshi (1875–1954) 26, 110–18 O’Dell, Andrew Charles (1909–66) 11, 111–22 Oestreich, J. W. Karl (1873–1947) 28, 91–106 Ogawa, Takuji (1870–1941) 6, 71–6 Ogilby, John (1600–76) 20, 77–84 Ogilvie, Alan Grant (1887–1954) 29, 1–34 Orghidan, Nicolai (1881–1967) 6, 77–9 Ormsby, Hilda (1877–1973) 5, 95–7 Pallas, Peter Simon (1741–1811) 17, 68–81 Park, Mungo (1771–1806) 23, 105–15 Parsons, James Jerome (1915–97) 19, 86–101 Partsch, Joseph Franz Maria (1851–1925) 10, 125–33 Paulitschke, Philipp (1854–99) 9, 95–100 Pavlov, Alexsei Petrovich (1854–1929) 6, 81–5

Index Pawlowski, Stanislaw (1882–1940) 14, 69–81 Peel, Ronald (1912–85) 25, 122–39 Penck, Albrecht (1858–1945) 7, 101–8 Pennant, Thomas (1726–98) 20, 85–101 Perpillou, Aimé Vincent (1902–76) 31, 56–63 Perron, Charles-Eugeène (1837–1909) 20, 102–7 Petermann, August Heinrich (1822–78) 12, 133–8 Philippson, Alfred (1864–1953) 13, 53–61 Pinchemel, Philippe (1923–2008) 29, 57–72 Pittier, Henri-François (1857–1950) 10, 135–42 Platt, Robert Swanton (1891–1964) 3, 107–16 Playfair, James (1738–1819) 24, 79–85 Plewe, Ernst (1907–86) 13, 63–71 Poey, Andrés (1825–1919) 24, 86–97 Poey, Felipe (1799–1891) 24, 86–97 Pol, Wincenty (1807–72) 2, 93–7 Polo, Marco (1254–1324) 15, 75–89 Porter, Josias Leslie (1823–89) 26, 67–78 Potter, Mary E. (fl. 1939–1987) 38, 45–135 Pounds, Norman John Greville (1912– 2006) 30, 22–45 Powell, John Wesley (1834–1902) 3, 117–24 Pred, Allan (1936–2007) 29, 151–75 Price, Archibald Grenfell (1892–1977) 6, 87–92 Prince, Hugh Counsell (1927–2013) 34, 63–96 Privat-Deschanel, Paul (1867–1942) 35, 63–94 Pumpelly, Raphael (1837–1923) 14, 83–92 Putnam, Donald Fulton (1903–77) 21, 72–84 Radó, Sándor (1899–1981) 33, 167–202 Raffles, Thomas Stamford (1781–1826) 24, 98–108 Raimondi del Acqua, Antonio (1826–90) 16, 80–7 Raisz, Erwin Josephus (1893–1968) 6, 93–7 Ratzel, Friedrich (1844–1904) 11, 123–32

247

Ravenstein, Ernst Georg (1834–1913) 1, 79–82 Reclus, Elisée (1830–1905) 3, 125–32 Reclus, Paul (1858–1941) 16, 88–95 Reisch, Gregor (c. 1470–1525) 6, 99–104 Rennell, James (1742–1830) 1, 83–8 Revert, Eugène (1895–1957) 7, 5–9 Reynolds, Joan Berenice (1870–1950) 38, 45–135 Rheticus, Georg Joachim (1514–73) 4, 121–6 Ribeiro, Orlando (1911–97) 31, 30–55 Richter, Eduard (1847–1905) 10, 143–8 Richthofen, Ferdinand Freiherr von (1833–1905) 7, 109–15 Ritter, Carl (1779–1859) 5, 99–108 Robequain, Charles (1897–1963) 32, 79–103 Rochefort, Renée (1924–2012) 39, 143–67 Rodd, Francis, Lord Rennell (1895–1978) 35, 9–32 Roe, Frank Gilbert (1878–1973) 18, 73–81 Roe, John Septimus (1797–1878) 21, 85–96 Romer, Eugeniusz (1871–1954) 1, 89–96 Rosberg, Johan Evert (1864–1932) 9, 101–8 Rosier, William (1856–1924) 10, 149–54 Roxby, Percy Maude (1880–1947) 5, 109–16 Rühl, Alfred (1882–1935) 12, 139–47 Russell, Richard Joel (1895–1971) 4, 127–38 Rychkov, Peter Ivanovich (1712–77) 9, 109–12 Salazar Ilarregui, José (1823–92) 23, 116–25 Salisbury, Rollin D. (1858–1922) 6, 105–13 Sánchez Granados, Pedro C. (1871–1956) 20, 108–18 Santos, Milton Almeida dos (1926–2001) 37, 41–68 Sauer, Carl Ortwin (1889–1975) 2, 99–108 Saunier-Seïté, Alice Louise (1925–2003) 38, 137–163 Sawicki, Ludomir Slepowran (1884–1928) 9, 113–19 Schlüter, Otto (1872–1959) 6, 115–22

248

Index

Schmithüsen, Josef (1909–84) 14, 93–104 Schmitthenner, Heinrich (1887–1957) 5, 117–21 Schrader, Franz (1844–1924) 1, 97–103 Schwerin, Hans Hugold von (1853–1912) 8, 81–6 Scoresby, William (1789–1857) 4, 139–47 Semënov-Tyan Shanskiy, Pëtr Petrovich (1827–1914) 12, 149–58 Semënov-Tyan Shanskiy, Veniamin Petrovich (1870–1942) 13, 67–73 Semple, Ellen Churchill (1863–1932) 8, 87–94 Shaler, Nathaniel Southgate (1841–1906) 3, 133–9 Shen Kuo (1033–97) 11, 133–7 Sheppard, June Alice (1928–2016) 37, 155–178 Shiga, Shigetaka (1863–1927) 8, 95–105 Sibbald, Robert (1641–1722) 17, 82–91 Siegfried, André (1875–1959) 30, 152–74 Sievers, Wilhelm (1860–1921) 8, 107–10 Singh, Chandra Pal (1939–2000) 23, 126–39 Sion, Jules (1879–1940) 12, 159–65 Smith, George Adam (1856–1942) 1, 105–6 Smith, Joseph Russell (1874–1966) 21, 97–113 Smith, Neil (1954–2012) 34, 205–44 Smith, Wilfred (1903–55) 9, 121–8 Smith, William (1769–1839) 23, 140–51 Smolenski, Jerzy (1881–1940) 6, 123–7 Sölch, Johann (1883–1951) 7, 117–24 Solé i Sabarís, Lluís (1908–85) 12, 167–74 Somerville, Mary (1780–1872) 2, 100–11 Sorre, Max (1880–1962) 27, 93–106 Spate, Oskar Hermann Khristian (1911– 2000) 34, 165–86 Spence, Catherine Helen (1825–1910) 22, 141–56 Spencer, Joseph Earle (1907–84) 13, 81–92 Stamp, Laurence Dudley (1898–1966) 12, 175–87 Steers, James Alfred (1899–1987) 34, 37–62 Steinmetz, Sebald Rudolf (1862–1940) 24, 109–24 Stöffler, Johannes (1452–1531) 5, 123–8

Stokes, John Lort (1811–85) 18, 82–93 Strnad, Antonin (1746–99) 32, 137–48 Strzelecki, Pawel Edmund (1797–1873) 2, 113–18 Sweeting, Marjorie Mary (1920–1994) 38, 45–135 Talbot, William John (1908–95) 32, 124–36 Tamayo, Jorge Leonides (1912–78) 7, 125–8 Tansley, Arthur George (1871–1955) 13, 93–100 Tatishchev, Vasili Nikitich (1686–1750) 6, 129–32 Taylor, Eva Germaine Rimington (1879– 1966) 31, 1–29 Taylor, Thomas Griffith (1880–1963) 3, 139–43 Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre (1881–1955) 7, 129–33 Teleki, Paul (1879–1941) 11, 139–43 Tenison-Woods, Julian Edmund see Woods, Julian Edmund Tenison Teran-Alvarez, Manuel de (1904–84) 11, 145–53 Thompson, David (1770–1857) 18, 94–112 Thornthwaite, Charles Warren (1899– 1963) 18, 113–29 Tillo, Alexey Andreyevich (1839–1900) 3, 155–9 Topelius, Zachris (1818–98) 3, 161–3 Torres Campos, Rafael (1853–1904) 13, 102–7 Toschi, Umberto (1897–1966) 11, 155–64 Tricart, Jean (1920–2003) 33, 11–41 Troll, Carl (1899–1975) 3, 111–24 Tulippe, Omer (1896–1968) 11, 165–72 Ullman, Edward Louis (1912–76) 9, 129–35 Vacher, Antoine (1873–1920) 31, 65–71 Vallaux, Camille (1870–1945) 2, 119–26 Valsan, Georg (1885–1935) 2, 127–33 Van Cleef, Eugene (1887–1973) 9, 137–43 Van Paassen, Christiaan (1917–96) 22, 157–68

Index Vavilov, Nikolay Ivanovich (1887–1943) 13, 109–16, 117–32 Vedova, Giuseppe Dalla (1834–1919) 23, 152–62 Vernadsky, Vladimir Ivanovich (1863– 1945) 7, 135–44 Veyret, Paul (1912–88) 37, 105–132 Veyret-Verner, Germaine (1913– 73) 37, 105–132 Vicens Vives, Jaume (1910–60) 17, 92–105 Vidal de La Blache, Paul (1845–1917) 12, 189–201 Vila i Dinares, Pau (1881–1980) 13, 133–40 Visher, Stephen Sargent (1887–1967) 34, 187–204 Viven de Saint-Martin, Louis (1802–96) 6, 133–8 Volz, Wilhelm (1870–1959) 9, 145–50 Voyeikov, Alexander Ivanovich (1842– 1916) 2, 135–41 Vuia, Ramulus (1881–1980) 13, 141–50 Vujevic, Pavle (1881–1966) 5, 129–31 Waibel, Leo Heinrich (1888–1951) 6, 139–47 Wallace, Alfred Russel (1823–1913) 8, 125–33 Wallis, Helen Margaret (1924–1995) 38, 137–163 Wang Yung (1899–1956) 9, 151–4 Ward, Robert DeCourcy (1867–1931) 7, 145–50

249

Warntz, William (1922–88) 19, 102–7 Watson, James Wreford (1915–90) 17, 106–15 Wellington, John Harold (1892–1981) 8, 135–40 Weulersse, Jacques (1905–46) 1, 107–12 Wheatley, Paul (1921–99) 24, 125–45 Whittlesey, Derwent Stainthorpe (1890– 1956) 25, 128–58 Wilkes, Charles (1798–1877) 15, 91–104 Williams, Michael (1935–2009) 30, 46–67 Wise, Michael John (1918–2015) 36, 51–87 Wissler, Clark (1870–1947) 7, 151–4 Woods, Julian Edmund Tenison (1832– 89) 21, 114–22 Wooldridge, Sidney William (1900–63) 8, 141–9 Wright, John Kirtland (1891–1969) 22 Wu Shang Shi (1904–47) 13, 151–4 Xu Hongzu (1587–1641) 16, 31–6 Yamasaki, Naomasa (1870–1928) 1, 8, 113–17, 141–9 Yi Chung-Hwan (1690–1756) 21, 123–30, 169–81 Yonekura, Jiro (1909–2002) 27, 143–51 Zheng He (1371–1433) 20, 119–25 Zimmermann, Maurice (1869–1950) 34, 97–126

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