CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play a gentle spirit
SPENSER
CLIMATE may be defined as an expression of our integrated experiences of âweatherâ. As a word it comes to us from the Greek, from long before the days of instruments, so we may well look into the classical background. In the countries of the Mediterranean whence we derive many of the concepts implicit in our speech the overwhelming power of the summer sun has always impressed mankind. The short, sharp shadows of July, the white glare, the very rapid evaporation and the scorched remnants of grass are today a vivid recollection in the minds of many travellers. Throughout the Mediterranean coastlands there is moreover a very high proportion of sunny hours in the summer months. It is no wonder, therefore, that the Greek philosophers considered that climate was primarily dependent on the altitude of the sun, that is on latitude. Greek geographers were accustomed to recognise seven âclimatesâ between the Equator and the Poles.
Around the Mediterranean and throughout much of South-Central Europe the seasonal rhythm is simple and relatively well-defined. The cloud, wind and intermittent rain of winter along the Mediterranean coasts stand in sharp contrast with the drought of summer. Further inland to the northward, there is a broad region where a definite season can be expected during which frost occurs, and there is a risk of snow; while through Burgundy and South-Central Europe the lowland summer is always warm enough for the ripening of crops. Occasional catastrophic thunderstorms and floods may occur causing local devastation but even the coolest and most cloudy summer is not calamitous over a wide area in the sense that is found towards the north-west margins of Europe.
Gradually as men move towards the north-west coastlands of Europe the wind plays an increasing part in their consciousness. For many months it can be said that the sun gives light, and at times an agreeable warmth. But it is the quality or âfeelâ of the air that we in the British Isles perceive first as we go out of doors. Ultimately this arises from the fact that the air arrives from a variety of different sources, and undergoes a varying degree of modification on its way towards us. The climate of the British Isles and the consequent appearance of the landscape owes much to latitude, notably in respect of the great seasonal variation in the amount and intensity of light; but still more is due to our position and maritime surroundings, especially with regard to wind.
Not that the Greeks were unmindful of the effects of wind. Winter in the Mediterranean is a season during which, as depressions pass, markedly different types of air pervade those coastal chaffering-places beloved by Mediterranean man. Boreas was the north wind, coming off the snowy continent of Europe to give cold clear air with good visibility and a nearly cloudless sky over the country round Athens; Notos, from the south, was recognised as warm, humid and enervating by comparison. In Rome blustery tramontana and languid sirocco play the like part. But the Atlantic shores of Europe offer the same contrasts with greater boisterousness throughout the year. It is a northern composerâSibelius of Finlandâwho has given expression in music to the tremendous majesty, persistence and interminable energy of the northern winter storms. The northern mythology of the early Scandinavians characterised the sun as feminine. We can perceive the hint in the actions of those descendants who through the centuries have thrust, crept or clawed their way into the maternal bosom of Southern Europe, by contrast with those who faced the open Atlantic and even ventured across it.
The climate of the British Isles is such that the inhabitants enjoy, but are not subordinate to, the power of the sun. It has accordingly been stigmatised by Latin Europe. Tacitus left a renowned note on the subject: âThe climate is objectionable with frequent rains and mists, but there is no extreme coldâ. Dumas gave vent to the views of the romantic Sturm-and-Drang period, âLâAngleterre est un pays ou le soleil rassemble Ă la luneâ. By contrast, more discriminating observers have often found room for praise; and Englishmen themselves, especially those who have not dwelt for long elsewhere, or have resisted the seductions of lands nearer the equator, are evidently very proud of their climate. As a Venetian Ambassador said in 1497, âThe English are great lovers of themselves and of everything belonging to themâ. Of Charles II, it is recorded that he never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one; a view which would not be entirely upheld by the Royal Society, formed with his encouragement in 1663. Charles was a keen observer; and his saying that âThe English climate is the best in the world. A man can enjoy outdoor exercise on all but five days in a yearâ has been echoed by most energetic Englishmen.
In 1944 on a delightful May morning in Suffolk, an American enlisted man said, âI like this weather of yours. You can work all the year round without sweatingâ. From America, too, the late Professor Ellsworth Huntington acknowledged the advantages of the climate of south-east England, no light tribute from such an energetic scion of Yale.
Appreciation of the British climate depends largely on temperament. That it has not been conducive to idleness has been reflected in the characteristics of the people; be it remembered that the urge to go and do something useful, to keep moving, to use oneâs intelligence, to protest against indolence, to stir up controversy and to censure the offcomer is also increasingly marked to the northward. Unreasonable activity and exertion are, however, gently damped downâthe Englishmanâs own expression. Undue assertiveness in colour, music, architecture, opinion or sentiment is out of keeping; it is ânot doneâ; gentle gradations of colour and fluctuations of mood are associated with the lack of the sharp shadows, the harder lines and fiercer contrasts of more southern lands. Some, be it noted would say âcruder contrastsâ; others derive from the sharpness of contrast a stimulus to activity. Accordingly opinion as to the goodness or badness of the British climate is likely to vary immensely from time to time between different leaders of opinion in this and other countries. Judgment can only be given by results, particularly in the realm of stockbreeding according to Mary Borden; and we may extend the argument to the results in the realm of originality of mind and accomplishment among the inhabitants for at least fifteen centuries past. To what degree this is the result of racial mixture, natural selection, or environmental influence it is not the purpose of this book to explore. We shall instead embark upon the discussion of climate, having especial regard to its significance as a factor in the moulding not merely of landscape but of the many other elements that go to make up the British scene.
Shakespeareâs intuitive appreciation of the qualities of his ideal island led him to put into the mouth of Calibanâthe unlettered but sentient nativeâ
Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Yet there are but few days when this cannot equally be said of that English countryside which Shakespeare knew. That our airs give delight and hurt not goes far to explain the attractions as well as some disadvantages of this country of ours; a point of view to be developed in later chapters.
The many-faceted British scene indeed has the fascination of a well-cut diamond by contrast with the crude regularity of a simple crystal. Like a diamond it owes much to the artifice of man; the eighteenth-century landscape gardeners are responsible for the characteristics of much of Southern and Central England. Eighteenth-century landowners were likewise active in Scotland as the varied charms of Roxburgh and the Lothians still show. But the glitter of the facets owes much to the light; in regard to our varied British landscape this is primarily a result of our climate. We shall try to embark on a discussion of British weather particularly as its complex effects are perceived by our several senses when we go out-of-doors. Even indoors; our satisfaction with what many Americans are apt to cherish as the ruefully enjoyable ineffectiveness of our ancestral domestic heating arrangements also owes much to the curious qualities of our outdoor climate. In humid air approaching saturation when there is little or no wind vigorous exertion quickly leads to discomfort through overheating, although with the same amount of clothing it is too cold to sit still. Our normal winter indoor clothing allows for this compromise at somewhere between 50° and 55° in damp weather. With a bright source of radiant heat such as a fire, we sit and work quite comfortably in rooms between 55° and 60°, a temperature at which the gentle evaporation from the skin in the humid air does not add to that sense of dryness to which our skins are unaccustomed. Fires are generally dispensed with, in the daytime, as soon as the noon temperature begins to exceed 60°, that is from early May to early October in Southern England. But it is significant that Continental ideas of heating are beginning to spread in our greatest mart for fashion, propaganda and advertisement, and the urbanised monotony of the great shops and hotels of London might be exchanged without comment with that of like institutions in many great cities abroad. Is it any wonder that our city populace is showing signs of forgetting that the fundamental needs of lifeâfood, water, shelter and transportâare still subject to one of the most erratic climates in the world?
WEATHER MAPS
For those unfamiliar with the notation used in weather maps, of which a number appear in subsequent chapters, a short key will serve;
Fig. 4 may be referred to. The winding lines are isobars; by joining places with equal barometer readings (after reduction to sea level) they illustrate the distribution and shape of regions of low and high atmospheric pressure at any given time. Pressures are in millibars (1000 mb. can be taken as 29.53 âinches of mercuryâ); mean annual pressure at Kew is 1015 mb. Figures beside stations are temperature in degrees F. Wind direction is shown by the shaft of the arrow, force by the number of flèches. One short and two long flèches means force 5 on the Beaufort scale, i.e. between 17â24 m.p.h. or, in sailorsâ language, a fresh breeze. Four long flèches means force 8 (38â45 m.p.h.) and is described as a gale. Lack of an arrow means a calm. State of the sky and prevailing weather are indicated by shading of the circle or by a symbol at the head of the arrow. Thus
= blue sky, not more than one quarter clouded;
increasing proportions of cloud,
overcast;
rain,
snow,
sleet;
fog,
haze. Fronts, that is lines on either side of which there is a marked difference in the qualities of the air, are shown:
a warm front, at which warmer air is advancing and rising over cooler air ahead; the symbol indicates direction of advance of the system.
a cold front, i.e. cold air advancing and undercutting warmer air ahead; symbols again show the direction in which the front is advancing.
an occlusion, across which there is in general little difference in temperature at the ground; the differen...