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(#3) Dawes Street: Dr. Charles Vickery Drysdale I last saw a particular girl – a girl born on the 29th of January 23 years ago – cycling eastwards down East Street into the night. As she pulled away and disappeared from view, I noticed on the corner facing me a closed-down Brook Cliniс. Just out of view, on the Dawes Street corner of the building, beamed a blue plaque, proclaiming: Dr. Charles Vickery Drysdale (1874-1961), a founder of the Family Planning Association, opened his first birth control clinic here in 1921. There is little to be found about Drysdale from a perfunctory glance over the Internet, apart from the facts plainly stated above. However, with a little digging, there are a number of interesting points. He was an advocate for contraception and birth control, professing views that were influenced by the social theories of Reverend Dr. Thomas Robert Malthus. Indeed, Drysdale served as both editor of the publication Malthusian between 1907 and 1916, and was President of the Malthusian League. While the neo-Malthusians were instrumental in the discussion of birth control and other secular matters, their ideology openly toyed with eugenics – with the reproduction of the working classes seen as a social problem. Here is a quote from Drysdale on the matter, which crystallises the simultaneously progressive and reactionary thinking: “(The Catholic Church) … can therefore only count on the support of the ignorant Irish Catholics, and not even them if birth control information penetrates to them … Rome has made no concessions … the State cannot lawfully forbid the marriage of the poor or the physically or mentally defective. Sterilisation is absolutely forbidden, and even segregation for the purpose of preventing marriage … Rome is fundamentally and unalterably opposed to eugenics.” (source) That aside, it is also noted that he was active in the movement to include women in the medical profession, teaching at the Female Medical College, which was established in London in 1864 as an off-shoot of the Female Medical Society. While it is sometimes hard to discern ideology and philosophy in this relatively liberated (UK-specific) society, full of “post-”s and “-isms”, it is startling to note how the (assumed) forward march of social policy has not always been compatible with our contemporary models of morality. Contraception and family planning are now individual issues, something discussed as part of female emancipation. It was not always so clear-cut. In the meantime, those looking for the Brook Clinic are advised to visit the Westmoreland Road centre. Click for high-res photo

(#3) Dawes Street: Dr. Charles Vickery Drysdale

I last saw a particular girl – a girl born on the 29th of January 23 years ago – cycling eastwards down East Street into the night. As she pulled away and disappeared from view, I noticed on the corner facing me a closed-down Brook Cliniс. Just out of view, on the Dawes Street corner of the building, beamed a blue plaque, proclaiming:

Dr. Charles Vickery Drysdale (1874-1961), a founder of the Family Planning Association, opened his first birth control clinic here in 1921.

There is little to be found about Drysdale from a perfunctory glance over the Internet, apart from the facts plainly stated above. However, with a little digging, there are a number of interesting points.

He was an advocate for contraception and birth control, professing views that were influenced by the social theories of Reverend Dr. Thomas Robert Malthus. Indeed, Drysdale served as both editor of the publication Malthusian between 1907 and 1916, and was President of the Malthusian League. While the neo-Malthusians were instrumental in the discussion of birth control and other secular matters, their ideology openly toyed with eugenics – with the reproduction of the working classes seen as a social problem. Here is a quote from Drysdale on the matter, which crystallises the simultaneously progressive and reactionary thinking:

“(The Catholic Church) … can therefore only count on the support of the ignorant Irish Catholics, and not even them if birth control information penetrates to them … Rome has made no concessions … the State cannot lawfully forbid the marriage of the poor or the physically or mentally defective. Sterilisation is absolutely forbidden, and even segregation for the purpose of preventing marriage … Rome is fundamentally and unalterably opposed to eugenics.” (source)

That aside, it is also noted that he was active in the movement to include women in the medical profession, teaching at the Female Medical College, which was established in London in 1864 as an off-shoot of the Female Medical Society.

While it is sometimes hard to discern ideology and philosophy in this relatively liberated (UK-specific) society, full of “post-”s and “-isms”, it is startling to note how the (assumed) forward march of social policy has not always been compatible with our contemporary models of morality. Contraception and family planning are now individual issues, something discussed as part of female emancipation. It was not always so clear-cut.

In the meantime, those looking for the Brook Clinic are advised to visit the Westmoreland Road centre.

(#1) Craven Street: Herman Melville. A diverted bus route takes me up Craven Street, a steep, narrow lane that boasts three notable residents. Neither Heinrich Heine (German Romantic poet), nor Benjamin Franklin (American statesman, writer, inventor, star of Day of the Tentacle) have been given blue Heritage plaques. That respect has been only granted to Melville. A fitting service, given his relatively late-blooming reputation. His books - including Moby Dick - fell out of print during his own lifetime, only to be eventually hailed as among his country’s greatest artistic works. A book many recognise, but few have read. The plaque carries on this trend; while his work may remain in digital print for perpetuity, his reputation is maintained through this blank, prosaic index card of a memorial: ‘Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, lived here in 1849’. Print of a different kind was on my mind, as I strode into Charing Cross station, and purchased - handing over plastic money with knuckles split by the cold - a copy of The New Yorker. A long-form profile of writer Neil Gaiman by Dana Goodyear jumps off the pages: a form of engrossing journalism too elongated for web browsing. I anticipate the maturation of e-readers, so that this currently-endangered discipline can flourish once more.

(#1) Craven Street: Herman Melville.

A diverted bus route takes me up Craven Street, a steep, narrow lane that boasts three notable residents. Neither Heinrich Heine (German Romantic poet), nor Benjamin Franklin (American statesman, writer, inventor, star of Day of the Tentacle) have been given blue Heritage plaques. That respect has been only granted to Melville. A fitting service, given his relatively late-blooming reputation. His books - including Moby Dick - fell out of print during his own lifetime, only to be eventually hailed as among his country’s greatest artistic works. A book many recognise, but few have read. The plaque carries on this trend; while his work may remain in digital print for perpetuity, his reputation is maintained through this blank, prosaic index card of a memorial: ‘Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, lived here in 1849’.

Print of a different kind was on my mind, as I strode into Charing Cross station, and purchased - handing over plastic money with knuckles split by the cold - a copy of The New Yorker. A long-form profile of writer Neil Gaiman by Dana Goodyear jumps off the pages: a form of engrossing journalism too elongated for web browsing. I anticipate the maturation of e-readers, so that this currently-endangered discipline can flourish once more.