Geoffrey S. Dawes: A Life in Science

Abstract

In view of his seminal role in the evolution of this field of study, it is perhaps not inappropriate to consider the contributions of Geoffrey Sharman Dawes (Fig. 4.1a). Born in Mackworth, Derbyshire, England, on 21 January 1918, Dawes was the youngest of five children. His father William Dawes (1874–1943), a graduate of Emmanuel College, Cambridge University, was the Vicar of Elvaston with Thulston in Derbyshire. His paternal grandfather, the Reverend Josiah William Dawes (1844–ca. 1914), a farmer and auctioneer, was also Vicar of All Saints Cathedral, Liverpool. His great grandfather was Josiah Belton Dawes (1813–1878). Initially, Geoffrey, called “pugface” by his brothers, attended the preparatory school Shardlow Hall and later the Repton School, also in Derbyshire. In his final year, Dawes was awarded the Senior House Prize for verse, a foretaste of his literary ability and distinction. As a youth, Dawes spent considerable time fishing and hunting in the countryside surrounding the commodious vicarage, Thurlaston Grange, in which he was raised. With a tennis court on the premises, he became first-rate in that sport. Although his parents planned for Geoffrey to follow the family tradition and attend Cambridge, he was awarded a place at New College, University of Oxford, where he gained first class honors in physiology. Following award of a Bachelor of Science degree (1939), he qualified in medicine (1943). On 15 April 1941, Dawes married Margaret Joan Monk born in 1918 in Singapore, the daughter of Harold Monk (1890–1930), the District Commissioner of Malaya, and Violet Jones (1891–1990). Over the years, they had four children: Caroline Harriet Maunsell, OBE, b. 22 August 1943; Alison Jennifer Williams, b. 3 June 1945; Nicholas William Dawes, DPhil, b. 20 June 1948; and Martin Geoffrey Dawes MD, b. 18 September 1954.

The whole question of imagination in science is often misunderstood by people in other disciplines. Whatever we are allowed to imagine in science must be consistent with everything else we know. Our kind of imagination is quite a difficult game. One has to have the imagination to think of something that has never been seen before, never been heard of before. At the same time, the thoughts are restricted in a straitjacket, so to speak, limited by the conditions that come from our knowledge of the way nature really is. The problem of creating something which is new, but which is consistent with everything which has been seen before, is one of extreme difficulty.

(Richard Phillips Feynman 1918)