Hugh Watson – An Appreciation

By Hugh Ingram

Hugh Watson's name has become something of a legend in the annals of twentieth century Conchology. The impact which he made upon this science and its devotees may be judged from his influential writings and from the controversy which they sometimes aroused. I would like to try to place on record the very different impact which he made upon an inexperienced young amateur who was privileged to know him personally.

I first visited Mr. Watson in November 1957, since when I may have seen him about four times. This may seem a brief acquaintance upon which to found an appreciation of such a man, but one of his remarkable gifts was the ability to crowd many impressions into one afternoon, with a minimum of wasted time. He used to say that he grew tired very quickly and could therefore talk for no longer than an hour, but one could seldom observe this time limit because his visitors were so few and he was so reluctant to see them leave. As far as I was concerned, this could not have been because he expected much information, though he was very patient with inexperience and would take great trouble to explain the complex details of his current taxonomic problems. Here, as always, he had a great ability to bring out the interest of a subject which many regard with boredom or even antipathy. He would present his arguments with a most attractive clarity and precision of thought and speech, and his replies to my questions were always phrased with a curious Edwardian courtesy exactly matching the interior of his old-fashioned study.

For many years he had been confined to his house, where a housekeeper and gardener looked after him. His health made it difficult for him to do much collecting, either on his own account or for his colleagues abroad. Collecting on his behalf was therefore a particularly great pleasure though he was hardly the person one would normally have chosen as an instructor in the art of preparing specimens and packing them for the post. His letters of acknowledgment, written in close, angular handwriting on the familiar cream postcards, were another aspect of the pleasure of his friendship.

Mr. Watson was in the habit of supplying his friends with lists of species not hitherto found in Cambridgeshire or in Britain, but which, he felt, had probably been overlooked. When I happened to mention that I had found it necessary to dissect some specimens in order to satisfy myself that they were not among his desiderata, he was delighted at the prospect of a new recruit to Malacology. He considered that Malacology was a much neglected science, and it must have been a great disappointment to him to have to give up lecturing on this subject at such an early age.

Most of us will only be able to regret his passing as that of an authority in his particular study. A few, more fortunate, can look back in gratitude to the memory of a great friend.