Eleanor Ormerod, Ll. D., Economic Entomologist: Autobiography and Correspondence Ebook Tooltip Ebooks kunnen worden gelezen op uw computer en op daarvoor geschikte e-readers.

I was born at Sedbury Park, in West Gloucestershire, on a sunny Sunday morning (the 11th of May, 1828), being the youngest of the ten children of George and Sarah Ormerod, of Sedbury Park, Gloucestershire, and Tyldesley, Lancashire. As a long time had elapsed since the birth of the last of the other children (my two sisters and seven brothers), my arrival could hardly have been a family comfort. Nursery arrangements, which had been broken up, had to be re-established. I have been told that I started on what was to be my long life journey, with a face pale as a sheet, a quantity of black hair, and a constitution that refused anything tendered excepting a concoction of a kind of rusk made only at Monmouth. The very earliest event of which I have a clear remembrance was being knocked down on the nursery stairs when I was three years old by a cousin of my own age. The damage was small, but the indignity great, and, moreover, the young man stole the lump of sugar which was meant to console me, so the grievance made an impression. A year later a real shock happened to my small mind. Whilst my sister, Georgiana, five years my senior, was warming herself in the nursery, her frock caught fire. She flew down the room, threw herself on the sheepskin rug at the door, and rolled till the fire was put out. But she was so badly burnt that the injuries required dressing, and this event also made a great impression on me. Other reminiscences of pleasure and of pain come back, in thinking over those long past days, but none of such special and wonderful interest as that of being held up to see King William IV. Little as I was, I had been taken to one of the theatres, and my father carried me along one of the galleries, and raised me in his arms that I might look through the glass window at the back of one of the boxes and see His Majesty. I do not in the least believe that I saw the right man. However, it is something to remember that about the year 1835, if I had not been so frightened, I might have seen the King. In regard to any special likings of my earliest years it seems to me, from what I can remember or have been told, that there were signs even then of the chief tastes which have accompanied me through life—an intense love of flowers; a fondness for insect investigation; and a fondness also for writing. In my babyhood, even before I could speak, the sight of a bunch of flowers was the signal for both arms being held out to beg for the coveted treasure, and the taste was utilised when I was a little older, in checking a somewhat incomprehensible failure of health during the spring visit of the family to London. Some one suggested trying the effect of a supply of flower roots and seeds for me to exercise my love of gardening on, and the experiment was successful. I can remember my delight at the sight of the boxes of common garden plants—pansies, daisies, and the like; and I suppose some feeling of the restored comfort has remained through all these years to give a charm (not peculiarly exciting in itself) to the smell of bast mats and other appurtenances of the outside of Covent Garden market. My first insect observation I remember perfectly. It was typical of many others since. I was quite right, absolutely and demonstrably right, but I was above my audience and fared accordingly. One day while the family were engaged watching the letting out of a pond, or some similar matter, I was perched on a chair, and given to watch, to keep me quiet at home, a tumbler of water with about half a dozen great water grubs in it. One of them had been much injured and his companions proceeded quite to demolish him. I was exceedingly interested, and when the family came home gave them the results of my observations, which were entirely disbelieved. Arguing was not permitted, so I said nothing (as far as I remember); but I had made my first step in Entomology.