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Digital Art History

June 30, 2009 by Roy Johnson

Teaching and learning art using IT

This is a collection of academic conference papers which look at the ways in which digital art history and the use of computers is affecting the ways in which art is both taught and studied. The papers cover issues such as the storage, access, and searchability of images; ownership and copyright. iconography and classification, and the analysis of art works using Computer Aided Design. There’s an account of a multi-media project for instance, Colour and Communication in 20th-Century Abstract Art, which teaches issues of tone, tint, and hue by making comparisons with music which are included as audio files alongside interactive exercises.

Digital Art HistoryNext comes a web-based project called The Cathedral as Virtual Encyclopedia – a virtual panoramic tour of Chartes cathedral. The really interesting and ambitious feature here is that the authoring team, lead by Stephen Clancy, have been digitally manipulating the panorama shots using Macromedia Director to produce a thirteenth-century version of the tour.

This is followed by an account of creating a multimedia database of the source materials archived by Georg Morgenstiern, professor of Indo-Iranian languages at the University of Oslo, Norway. The resulting collection of photographs, sound recordings, and movie clips can be seen at www.nb.no.

There is a short encomium for computer gaming which could safely have been left out of the collection. More interesting is an account of experimental new media art at the University of the West of England in Bristol – though the emphasis is on problems of curation rather than the ‘exhibits’ themselves. This is also true of an essay on the creation of a visually searchable database of images at London Guildhall.

The centrepiece of the book shows how computer graphics and visioning techniques can be used in the scientific analysis of paintings. Once the examples have been digitised using CAD software, new versions can be generated from different points of view; partly occluded objects can be completed; shapes and objects can be analysed; and a 3D version of the scene can be generated.

They show an amazing three dimensional reconstruction of Masaccio’s Florentine fresco, The Trinity. This paper is the work of three scholars in art history and engineering science working collaboratively at the University of Oxford and is probably the highlight of the collection.

As an e-learning author myself, I would sometimes have welcomed a little more technical detail, but there’s certainly enough here to stimulate anybody who want to see what’s possible in harnessing the power of IT to the teaching and learning in visual arts.

© Roy Johnson 2005

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Anna Bentkowska-Kafel et al (eds), Digital Art History, Bristol: Intellect, 2005, pp.118, ISBN 1841501166


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Filed Under: Art, Media, Online Learning Tagged With: Art, Computers, Cultural history, Digital art, Digital Art History, Education, New media, Online learning

Dora Carrington biography

September 17, 2009 by Roy Johnson

painter, designer, bohemian, bisexual

Dora Carrington - portraitDora Carrington (1893-1932) was an artist and bohemian who loved and was loved by both men and women. She was born Dora de Houghton Carrington in Hereford, the daughter of a Liverpool merchant. As a somewhat wilful youngster, she found her family background quite stifling, adoring her father and loathing her mother. She attended Bedford High School, which emphasized sports, music, and drawing. The teachers encouraged her drawing and her parents paid for her to attend extra art classes in the afternoons. In 1910 she won a scholarship to the Slade School of Art in London and studied there with Henry Tonks.

The Slade at that time was a centre of what we would now call radical chic. She embraced the bohemian opportunity it offered – going to live in Gordon Square in Bloomsbury, and immediately becoming entangled in romantic liaisons with fellow painters Paul and John Nash, Christopher (‘Chips’) Nevinson, and Mark Gertler, who had a very strong influence on this first phase of her life as an artist.

She also teamed up with fellow artists Dorothy Brett and Barbara Bagenal, and they started a new fashion at the school by cutting their hair into the shape of pudding-basins and wearing plain, deeply unfashionable clothes. They were called the ‘crop heads’. She did well at the Slade, winning several prizes and moving quickly through the courses. Despite her bohemianism however, her style of painting and drawing was firmly traditional, and it fitted with the aesthetic of the Slade at that time.

She was unaffected by the craze for Post-Impressionism which followed Roger Fry‘s famous 1910 exhibition at the Grafton Galleries which Virginia Woolf claimed changed human nature that year. Her personal life was dominated by the tempestuous relationship she conducted with Gertler and Nevinson which resulted in a form of unhappiness for all concerned. Although she behaved in a provocative manner, she refused to choose between them, or to have a sexual relationship with either of them.

The Art of Dora CarringtonGertler introduced her to the society hostess Lady Ottoline Morrell, and thus into the Bloomsbury Group. In 1914 she met D.H. Lawrence and David Garnett, then joined Roger Fry’s new artists’ co-operative, the Omega Workshops, where was moderately successful in her decorative art work. It was while visiting Morrell at Garsington Manor in 1915 that Carrington made a connection that was to change the rest of her life.

She was introduced to the writer Lytton Strachey (who was in love with Mark Gertler at the time). Gertler felt that since Strachey was a confirmed homosexual, he could safely encourage their friendship. When Strachey made a sexual pass at her, she retaliated by going to his room at night with the intention of cutting off his long red beard. He awoke on her approach, and she immediately fell in love with him. It was a love that would last for the rest of her life and would even cause her to follow him from life into death.

Possessed of a remarkable personal fascination, she seemed to cast a spell on those around her. She figures in a number of novels, among them D.H. Lawrence‘s Women in Love (as Minette Darrington); Wyndham Lewis’ The Apes of God (as Betty Blythe); Rosamund Lehmann’s The Weather in the Streets (as Anna Corey); and Aldous Huxley’s Chrome Yellow (as Mary Bracegirdle). However, Carrington’s behaviour was viewed rather critically by another regular visitor to Garsington – D.H.Lawrence:

“She was always hating men, hating all active maleness in a man. She wanted passive maleness.”

She was not well known as a painter during her lifetime as she painted only for her own pleasure, did not sign her works, and rarely exhibited them. She painted and made woodcuts for the Hogarth Press, which was founded by Leonard Woolf as a therapeutic exercise for his wife Virginia.

The Life of Dora CarringtonAlthough she had kept Gertler at bay for five years, she gave herself to Strachey from the outset – then ended up having a sexual relationship with both men at the same time, even though Strachey was really a homosexual. But in 1917 Carrington ended her relationship with Gertler, and went to live with Strachey in a rented mill house.

Carrington’s father died in 1918 leaving her a small inheritance that allowed her to feel more independent. The following year she met Ralph Partridge, an Oxford friend of her younger brother Noel, who assisted Leonard Woolf at the Hogarth Press. Both Carrington and Lytton Strachey fell in love with Partridge, who accepted that she would not give up her platonic relationship or living arrangements with Strachey. She married Partridge in 1921, and Strachey with characteristic generosity paid for their wedding. All three of them went on the honeymoon to Venice. Strachey wrily observed:

“everything is at sixes and sevens – ladies in love with buggers and buggers in love with womanisers, and the price of coal going up too. Where will it all end?”

However, this somewhat unusual domestic arrangement seemed to work for all three parties. Carrington divided her time between looking after Strachey and her own art work. She painted on almost any medium she could find including glass, tiles, pub signs, and the walls of friends’ homes. Meanwhile, she had an affair with Gerald Brenan, who was an old army friend of Ralph Partridge.

Brenan had moved to southern Spain, where the three of them visited him (a visit he describes in South from Granada). Following this she developed a lengthy correspondence with him. The affair lasted for years, and it was painful for both of them – particularly Brenan. In 1923 she met Henrietta Bingham, the daughter of the American Ambassador to the Court of St. James. Carrington actively pursued Henrietta and they subsequently became lovers. The relationship was also another ménage à trois, since Henrietta had previously been Strachey’s lover.

Dora Carrington biography

Yes – that’s Dora Carrington

The following year Strachey purchased the lease to Ham Spray House near Hungerford in Wiltshire. Carrington, Strachey, and Partridge lived there from 1924 until 1932. Her role there was to take care of the domestic chores, care for Strachey, and decorate the house. Her decision is ironic given her early rebellion against traditional roles for women in her day.

The decision might have also robbed her of time for her own art, though by her own account she was only happy when domestically settled. During 1925, Carrington met Julia Strachey, Lytton’s niece and a novelist who had once been a Parisian model and an art student at the Slade. Julia frequently visited Ham Spray, and though she was married to Stephen Tomlin, she briefly became another of Carrington’s lovers.

In 1926 Ralph Partridge started an affair with Frances Marshall, and went to live with her in London. This more or less (but not formally) ended his marriage to Carrington, although he continued to visit her most weekends.

In 1928 Carrington met Bernard (‘Beakus’) Penrose, a friend of Partridge’s and the younger brother of the artist Roland Penrose. She experienced renewed creativity while she had an affair with him, and collaborated with him on the making of three films. However, he wanted Carrington to make an exclusive commitment to him, a demand she refused because she could not end her relationship with Strachey. The affair, her last one with a man, ended badly when Carrington became pregnant and chose to have an abortion.

In November 1931 Strachey became violently ill and in late December he took a turn for the worse. Doctors were unable to correctly diagnose the problem, and in fact he had stomach cancer. Carrington attempted suicide by shutting herself in the garage with the car running, but Partridge rescued her and she recovered enough to spend the last few days of Strachey’s life taking her turn nursing him.

He died in January after seventeen years of living with her. She became depressed, borrowed a gun from a neighbour, and shot herself. She was found before she died and Ralph Partridge, Frances Marshall, and David Garnett arrived at Ham Spray House in time to say good-bye. She was just short of her thirty-ninth birthday.


Bloomsbury Group – web links

Bloomsbury Group - web links Hogarth Press first editions
Annotated gallery of original first edition book jacket covers from the Hogarth Press, featuring designs by Vanessa Bell, Roger Fry, and others.

Bloomsbury Group - web links The Omega Workshops
A brief history of Roger Fry’s experimental Omega Workshops, which had a lasting influence on interior design in post First World War Britain.

Bloomsbury Group - web links The Bloomsbury Group and War
An essay on the largely pacifist and internationalist stance taken by Bloomsbury Group members towards the First World War.

Bloomsbury Group web links Tate Gallery Archive Journeys: Bloomsbury
Mini web site featuring photos, paintings, a timeline, sub-sections on the Omega Workshops, Roger Fry, and Duncan Grant, and biographical notes.

Bloomsbury Group - web links Bloomsbury: Books, Art and Design
Exhibition of paintings, designs, and ceramics at Toronto University featuring Hogarth Press, Vanessa Bell, Dora Carrington, Quentin Bell, and Stephen Tomlin.

Bloomsbury Group - web links Blogging Woolf
A rich enthusiast site featuring news of events, exhibitions, new book reviews, relevant links, study resources, and anything related to Bloomsbury and Virginia Woolf

Bloomsbury Group - web links Hyper-Concordance to Virginia Woolf
Search the texts of all Woolf’s major works, and track down phrases, quotes, and even individual words in their original context.

Bloomsbury Group - web links A Mrs Dalloway Walk in London
An annotated description of Clarissa Dalloway’s walk from Westminster to Regent’s Park, with historical updates and a bibliography.

Bloomsbury Group - web links Women’s History Walk in Bloomsbury
Annotated tour of literary and political homes in Bloomsbury, including Gordon Square, University College, Bedford Square, Doughty Street, and Tavistock Square.

Bloomsbury Group - web links Virginia Woolf Society of Great Britain
News of events, regular bulletins, study materials, publications, and related links. Largely the work of Virginia Woolf specialist Stuart N. Clarke.

Bloomsbury Group - web links BBC Audio Essay – A Eulogy to Words
A charming sound recording of a BBC radio talk broadcast in 1937 – accompanied by a slideshow of photographs of Virginia Woolf.

Bloomsbury Group - web links A Family Photograph Albumn
Leslie Stephens’ collection of family photographs which became known as the Mausoleum Book, collected at Smith College – Massachusetts.

Bloomsbury Group - web links Bloomsbury at Duke University
A collection of book jacket covers, Fry’s Twelve Woodcuts, Strachey’s ‘Elizabeth and Essex’.

© Roy Johnson 2000-2014


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Down Below

October 19, 2018 by Roy Johnson

Down Below is a psychiatric memoir by the surrealist painter Leonora Carrington. She was the headstrong, rebellious daughter of an upper middle-class English family. At nineteen she ran away to Paris with the German artist Max Ernst who was married at the time. They lived together in the south of France and had dreams of a glorious future together. But at the outbreak of the Second World War he was arrested by the Gestapo as a ‘decadent aesthete’ and was lucky to escape to America. Left alone, Carrington was utterly devastated. She was forced to move to Spain, where she had a complete mental breakdown and was sent to a lunatic asylum. That is the background to this gruelling first-person account of her experiences.

Down Below

Her narrative takes the form of a diary which purports to be written over a few days in the summer of 1943: (in fact it was written and re-written later). She describes her departure from the Ardeche in a hallucinatory manner in which her mind seems detached from her body, and that body is only obliquely related to the material world through which she moves.

She escaped via Andorra to Madrid where she lapsed into a delusional and even paranoid state. She compulsively gave away her belongings, claimed that she was gang raped, and imagined herself merging with the animal world. Perhaps as an understandable reaction she began bathing compulsively. She believed that the citizens of Madrid were being hypnotised, and reported to the British Embassy her plans to bring about world peace by ‘metaphysical forces’.

The plans included liberating General Franco from his ‘political somnambulism’, all of which she transmitted even to the offices of ICI, where her father was a director. She was eventually tranquilised and taken to a sanatorium in Santander for the dangerously and incurably insane.

There she became violent, behaved like a wild animal, and was restrained with leather straps. None of the treatment improved her condition, and she was reduced to a naked, animal-like state, living in her own excrement. She imagined she had visitors – Prince Rainier of Monaco and the Marquis of Silva, both of whom (she claimed) had been hypnotised by an evil German called Van Ghent. Her family never visited her whilst she was incarcerated: they sent a governess instead.

All the furniture was removed from her room and she was given injections of Cardiazol, which induced epileptic fits of an appalling severity. This eventually seems to have improved her condition, for she was transferred to a less severe recuperation unit. However, she continued to suffer from quasi-religious delusions. She imagined that she was Jesus Christ, and she would soon become the reincarnation of Queen Elizabeth I.

Gradually, she was allowed more liberty and went to stay in an open ward which she called ‘Down Below’. From there she was eventually released and taken back to Madrid – but only to be threatened with another sanatorium in South Africa. A ship bound for Africa was ready and waiting in Lisbon. But when she was taken there she gave everyone the slip and threw herself on the mercy of the Mexican Embassy where she had a contact.

The stratagem worked. She formed a marriage of convenience with the Portugese diplomat Renato Leduc, and they sailed for New York, then to Mexico City, where she lived for the rest of her life. It’s a harrowing story – but one with a reasonably happy ending. She feared a relapse into lunacy, but was mercifully spared. She became celebrated in Mexico and established a reputation as a painter that has been growing ever since.

© Roy Johnson 2018

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Leonora Carrington, Down Below, New York: NYRB, 2017, pp.69, ISBN: 1681370603


Filed Under: Biography Tagged With: Art, Biography, Cultural history, Leonora Carrington

Edith Sitwell

January 1, 2018 by Roy Johnson

modernist poet and English eccentric

Edith Sitwell (1887-1964) was an English poet, and an upper-class eccentric renowned for her exotic clothing and over-sized jewellery. She was prolific as a writer, and in the 1920s and 1930s was classed as an avant-garde modernist. Her work was praised by critics and fellow poets, but she is now known almost exclusively for her poems Parade which were set for music-theatre performance by the composer William Walton.

Edith Sitwell

She was born into an aristocratic family at Renishaw Hall in Derbyshire, the eldest of three children who remained close throughout their adult lives. She disliked both her parents, never married, and spent much of her life living with her childhood governess.

Her remote and snobbish parents would only issue instructions to a butler and private servant. Other staff in the household were not permitted to speak to the masters. She developed a youthful love for Chopin, Brahms, and Swinburne- and when asked what she wanted to be when she grew up answered “A genius”.

Her father disapproved of education for women, so Edith was largely self-taught. However, her governess Helen Rootham was a powerful influence and provided an introduction to the world of modern art – Rimbaud in particular.

When Edith was twenty her famously beautiful mother was put on trial for fraud, and having been convicted, served a short jail sentence. The family never spoke about this incident – even to each other.

In 1913 at the age of twenty-five Edith was given her freedom and moved to live at Pembridge Mansions in Bayswater, London. By upper-class standards, this was quite a Bohemian location. It was at this point that she began writing poetry. The rooms at Pembroke Mansions became a cultural salon that attracted figures such as Aldous Huxley, Virginia Woolf, and Cecil Beaton.

Like many other artists and intellectuals of the modernist period she was opposed to the First World War. In 1916 she established a magazine Wheels that published the work of young unknown poets, including in its 1919 edition six pieces by Wilfred Owen, who had been killed in action the year before.

She fell in love with a handsome young Chilean painter called Alvaro Guevara. He however was infatuated with the heiress and left-wing activist Nancy Cunard. Edith consoled herself with the fame which followed her early success. It is assumed by her biographers that she remained a virgin for the rest of her life.

In 1923 her poems Facade were set to music by the young William Walton who Sitwell and her brothers had decided to champion. The result was a surrealist entertainment in which the poems were declaimed through a megaphone from behind a decorated curtain, accompanied by jagged and heavily syncopated music. It caused public outrage at the time, yet ironically it is the work by which she is now best known.

Her controversial social success, eccentric costume, and poetic experiments also generated a great deal of rivalry and animosity. Noel Coward lampooned Edith and her brothers as The Swiss Family Whittlebot, and F.R. Leavis observed that the Sitwells ‘belonged to the history of publicity’ – which in retrospect seems largely true.

She went to live in Paris with Helen Rootham, where she was introduced by Gertrude Stein to the second great love of her life – the Russian painter Pavel Tchelitchew. She devoted herself to him, became his muse and patroness, and travelled extensively with him, all the time seemingly unaware that he was a homosexual.

In 1930 Helen Rootham was diagnosed with cancer, which suddenly transposed Edith into the role of carer. She was living on a modest allowance from her father, and supplemented this by turning to journalism. She wrote articles for the newspapers in which she articulated her controversial views on issues of the day.

But on Helen Rootham’s death she also suffered another blow – Pavel Tchelitchew decided to emigrate to America. This was an emotional low point for Edith, and she was persuaded to return to the family’s ancestral home by her brother Osbert. (Her father had gone to live in a castle in Tuscany he spent thirty years restoring.)

1959 Interview with John Freeman

This move brought on a fresh lease of poetic life and further critical acclamation from the likes of Kenneth Clark and Cyril Connolly, who predicted that her work would outlive that of T. S. Eliot and W.H. Auden (in which he has so far been proven wrong). There was also an invitation to make a celebrity lecture tour in the United States. Further public accolades were heaped upon her, and even though she was regarded as something of a professional eccentric, she was made a Dame of the British Empire in 1954.

But fame did not bring her happiness. She became financially dependent on her brother, and she felt herself the poor relation. She imagined herself to be a ‘working woman’ but in fact ran up enormous debts in the family name.

Osbert was able to offer her summer residence in the Derbyshire stately home and winters in the Tuscan castle he inherited from his father – so she was not exactly slumming it. There was also the ‘season’ in London, when she lived at the Sesame Club in Mayfair, driven around in a chauffeur-driven Daimler of gigantic proportions. In her later years she became infirm and was confined to a wheelchair. She died in 1964, suffering from alcoholism and paranoia.

© Roy Johnson 2018

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Eminent Victorians

July 19, 2009 by Roy Johnson

iconoclastic biographies of nineteenth-century heros

This is a book which marked a decisive step into the modern world of the twentieth century, and a clean break with the Victorian and Edwardian attitudes which preceded it. Lytton Strachey was hardly known when he published the book in 1918: afterwards, he was almost as notorious as Oscar Wilde. It’s a group of biographical studies – of Cardinal Manning (1802-1892), Florence Nightingale (1820-1910), Dr Arnold of Rugby School (1795-1842), and General Gordon (1833-1885) in which Strachey overturns all the pious hagiographic work of his forebears and portrays these icons of Victorian life as ordinary beings locked in the social context of their age.

Eminent VictoriansHis sketches are witty, pungent, and very elegantly expressed put-downs which punctured the blind optimism of the age which had led up to the disasters of the first world war. Well, not exactly ordinary. These were people who felt they had a messianic duty to ‘serve’ the public, and all of them were fuelled by religious fervour. If there is one theme which unites these portraits it is the intellectual contortions and the exhausting spiritual struggles these people made in trying to reconcile contradictions in their religious belief system – in this case Christianity.

And Strachey is not blind to their good qualities. He has a certain admiration for Manning’s soul-searching as he wavered on the edge of Protestantism and Catholicism. His account of Nightingale in the Crimea is largely a critique of the War Office’s blundering and obstructiveness. And General Gordon is shown as almost a scapegoat for Britain’s imperialistic equivocations.

It has to be said that by modern standards, Strachey is hopelessly unrigorous as a historian. He plagiarises his principal sources, fails to cite his quotations accurately; gets his dates wrong; invents ‘facts’; and bends details to suit his narrative purpose. But the stories he creates have tremendous drive and interest.

The chapter on Cardinal Manning is more than just a potted biography for instance. Strachey deals with power struggles in the politics of ecclesiastical preferment and in particular the rivalry between Manning and Cardinal Newman. He’s very interesting on the significance of the Oxford Movement (for Roman Catholicism) in relation to the State in nineteenth-century Britain.

In the case of Florence Nightingale Strachey’s purpose is less to do with individual biography and much more to offer a scathing critique of government and military mismanagement in its conduct of medical support during the Crimean war. Only when the war ends, and she spends a further fifty years of her long life engaged in Good Works and social reforms does he focus on her personal life.

His targets are all well chosen, representing as they do Church, public service, Empire, and reforming social zeal. In the case of Thomas (Dr) Arnold, he shows the example of someone who attempted to re-shape the conduct of Rugby School in a form which others would follow. This regime included a curriculum of dead languages plus Christianity, the complete exclusion of any sciences, and an authoritarian regime of discipline with corporal punishment administered by a cadre of elite sixth-formers and the head himself for serious cases. But as Strachey points out

so far as the actual machinery of education was concerned, Dr Arnold not only failed to effect a change, but deliberately adhered to the old system. The monastic and literary conceptions of education, which had their roots in the Middle Ages, had been accepted and strengthened at the revival of Learning, he adopted almost without hesitation. Under him, the public school remained, in essentials, a conventional establishment, devoted to the teaching of Greek and Latin grammar.

Much of the same Christian evangelicism is present in the life of General Gordon (and it takes almost as a matter of course an anti-Semitic and anti-Muslim element). Strachey produces a narrative which is amazingly contemporary in revealing the connections between government, military, and the press which resulted in General Gordon being sent on a mission to ‘save’ Khartoum – only to find himself bogged down in an imperialistic quagmire which resulted in him paying with his life, waiting for a rescuing expeditionary force which arrived just forty-eight hours too late.

At any rate, it had all ended very happily – in a glorious slaughter of twenty thousand Arabs, a vast addition to the British Empire, and a step in the peerage for Sir Evelyn Baring.

© Roy Johnson 2009

eminent victorians Buy the book at Amazon UK

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Lytton Strachey, Eminent Victorians, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009, pp.336, ISBN 019955501X


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Eric Gill

August 29, 2015 by Roy Johnson

artist, engraver, typographist, stone carver, and more

Eric Gill (1882-1930) was a sculptor, a typographist, a wood engraver, and an influential artist-craftsman in the early years of the twentieth century. He is probably best known for his typeface Gill Sans which became ubiquitous from the 1920s onwards, but he was also famous in his own day for his radical views and eccentric appearance.. He took a highly moralistic, quasi- religious attitude to his work in art, but he has become the subject of bemused attention in recent years because of revelations about bizarre practices in his sexual life.

Eric Gill

Early years

He was born in Brighton in 1882, the second child of thirteen to a clergyman with a family background of missionary ‘work’ in the South Seas. The cultural atmosphere of Gill’s childhood was a combination of evangelical fervour and what became known as Muscular Christianity. He had a fairly undistinguished education, but he did meet a fellow day boy at school who introduced him to woodworking tools.

The even tenor of his youth was interrupted by the death of his favourite sister Cicely and his father’s conversion to Anglicanism and the family’s subsequent move to Chichester. More importantly for his future development, he discovered what he thought of as ‘the mystical power of the phallus’.

He enrolled at Chichester Art School and started drawing buildings in the town. The cathedral there played a big part in his personal life. It also introduced him to his first serious love affair – with Ethel Moore, the sacristan’s daughter whom he later married. But in 1900 he felt he had outgrown the town and set off to London to find his profession.

Apprenticeship

He entered a practice of church architects as a trainee, but his real intellectual development took flight when he enrolled at the Central School of Arts and Crafts and he encountered a world of radicalism, William Morris-inspired handicrafts, and the company of Edward Johnston, the calligraphist with whom he was to produce Gill Sans.

In London he also had his first sexual encounters (with prostitutes) which he characteristically related in detail to his girlfriend Ethel. By the time he was twenty-one he was sharing Johnston’s lodgings at Lincoln’s Inn Fields and participating in late night bachelor discussions on Truth, Religious Faith, and English hand-lettering. Almost by accident, he established a reputation as someone who could cut letters in stone, and commissions came to him regularly from this time onwards.

He obtained work contracts from Healds and W.H.Smith, the designs for the latter establishing what we would now call a corporate identity. His success led him to get married to Ethel, and they set up home in Battersea, where one of his first important patrons was Count Harry Kessler.

In 1905 he moved with Ethel to Hammersmith and joined a community of radical printers and craftsmen. Gill, plus his friends Johnston and Hilary Pepler were in the habit of writing letters late at night, then meeting at the local post box for the midnight collection, then carrying on their aesthetic debates until two and three o’clock in the morning.

The move left

He joined the Fabians the following year and lost no time on lecturing the Webbs and George Bernard Shaw on the inadequacy of their views on Art. He also joined in their enthusiasm for the idea of the New Woman by starting an open affair with Lillian Meacham, which his wife did her best to tolerate. What Ethel did not know was that at the same time he was also ‘fornicating’ with their domestic help Lizzie.

Eric Gill

In 1908 the family moved again to Ditchling, a country village near Lewes in Sussex. Here he advocated a life of rural simplicity – whilst spending much of his working week in London where he had kept on the flat at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Artistically, he added two skills to his repertoire – wood engraving and sculpture in stone. In London he was mixing with Jacob Epstein, Roger Fry, Ottoline Morrell, and other fringe Bloomsbury Group figures. He also came under the influence of Ananda Coomaraswamy, an Indian aesthete. When he produced an erotic carving of a man and woman copulating (bizarrely entitled Votes for Women) it was bought by Maynard Keynes for five pounds.

Family fun

Around this time Gill began incestuous relationships with his sisters Angela and Gladys, recording the fact in his diary quite casually, with no recognition at all that he was breaking a social taboo. What is even more amazing is the fact that he maintained these relationships throughout the remainder of his adult life.

At the same time he was going through a religious conversion – rather surprisingly to Roman Catholicism. He and his wife were received into the church in Brighton, she changed her name to Mary, and they celebrated the event by having Leonard and Virginia Woolf as house guests for the weekend.

They moved to another house on the outskirts of Ditchling, and he was joined in the area by his old Hammersmith colleagues Johnston and Pepler. He cultivated a Spartan, almost medieval close-to-the-soil existence, and when the war came he more or less ignored it.

Religion

He also threw himself enthusiastically into the rituals and beliefs of the Dominican order of the church, and took to wearing ecclesiastical garments, including the belt of chastity, which he wore with no apparent sense of irony. The guild that he formed with Pepler took itself very seriously and issued propaganda leaflets arguing against birth control and the use of Bird’s Custard Powder.

Ditchling became famous as a place for spiritual retreat, and Gill was celebrated as its presiding religious genius. But beneath the homespun cassock and the stonemason’s paper toque, he had started having sex with his own daughters. He recorded the details of his ‘experiments’ in his diaries, admitted misgivings to his religious confessors, and rationalised his behaviour with a new theory of phallic ‘Godliness’.

Eric Gill

In 1924 he felt oppressed by the public attention he had generated at Ditchling and moved to an abandoned abbey in the Welsh Black Mountains. The move resulted in him turning his attention back to engraving and typography. He became the principal designer and illustrator for Robert Gibbings’ Golden Cockerel Press, whose publications now seem the most distinguished of between-the-wars private presses. The relationship with Gibbings was particularly warm – close enough to include weekend threesomes in Berkshire with the publisher and his wife Moira whilst his wife Mary kept the monastic abbey going in the Black Mountains.

Readers who may be thinking there was something homo-erotic (or polymorphous perverse) in all these shenanigans will be confirmed in their suspicions when he records his impressions (and celebrations) of the male member in his diaries::

A man’s penis and balls are very beautiful things and the power to see this beauty is not confined to the opposite sex. The shape of the head of a man’s erect penis is very excellent in the mouth. There is no doubt about this. I have often wondered – now I know.

When he returned to the abbey he busied himself showing his new secretary Elizabeth Bill slides of semen under the microscope and inviting her to measure the size of his own beautiful penis before demonstrating it at work on her. Elizabeth had an ageing fiance, but she also had money, and when she bought a villa in the Basque country Gill was very happy to go and live there.

He was also taken up by Stanley Morison, adviser to the Monotype Corporation, and the typefaces he designed for him – Perpetua (1925), Gill Sans (1927), and Solus (1929) – are probably his greatest claim to fame as a designer. Doing so gave him the urge to move on once again, so he uprooted his entire household from Wales and went to live on an estate called Pigotts, near High Wycombe.

Animal farm

There he had a sculpture workshop, an art studio, and a printing press all in their own buildings. At a private level he started an affair with Beatrice Warde, the glamorous American typographist who was the mistress of his champion (and employer) Stanley Morison. Then suddenly in 1930 he had a mysterious seizure and lost his memory. It took him quite some time to recover, but when back to normal he found new ways of amusing himself. He started having sex with the family dog. This is a man who celebrated holy mass twice a day at an altar in his own home.

But the medical interlude in no way diminished his creative energies. In the early 1930s he composed his famous Joanna typeface and he completed his public commission Prospero and Ariel over the entrance to BBC at Langham Place. It is generally thought that these large scale public carvings were not as successful as his smaller, more domestic works, and he has also been criticised for spreading his talents across so many varied forms of visual art.

As commissions proliferated, so he became more famous at a Daily Express level. People wanted to know if he wore underpants beneath his stonemason’s smock. Domestically he enlarged his entourage by moving his latest mistress May Reeves into a caravan on the site at Pigotts. This gave him the convenience of sex with May and his wife (sometimes on the same night) without as it were leaving the premises.

In the later years of his life two changes came over him, and these were typically contradictory. First of all he became far more bourgeois – accepting physical comforts, employing a chauffeur, installing a black marble bath. But at the same time he became more politically radical, and espoused many of the left wing causes of the late 1930s – including workers control and support for the Republicans in Spain.

He became increasingly frail in the latter years of his life (though he was only in his late fifties) yet he embarked on two large scale projects which consumed all his energies. The first was his debut as an architect. He designed and supervised the building of a simple church in Norfolk in which he radically placed the altar in the centre of the building. The second project was a new and extra intense affair with Daisy Hawkins, a nineteen year old servant at Pigotts. She was unusually attractive, and he both made drawings of her and had sex with her on almost a daily basis for nearly two years.

Not surprisingly, this did not go down well with his two other sexual partners – his wife (in the house) and May Reeves (in the caravan). There was eventually a showdown and Daisy was exiled to Capel in Wales. But Gill simply followed here there, pursuing her from one room to another for sexual couplings, the locations of which were all systematically recorded in his diaries. But this late satyriasis was the last gasp of an exhausted figure. In 1940 he suffered from a number of debilitating ailments and was then diagnosed with cancer of the lung. It was that which killed him – at the age of only fifty eight.

© Roy Johnson 2015

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Fiona MacCarthy, Eric Gill, London: Faber and Faber, 2003. pp.416, ISBN: 0571143024


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Escaping the Delta

July 22, 2009 by Roy Johnson

Robert Johnson and the Invention of the Blues

Escaping the Delta isn’t a conventional biography of Robert Johnson, the most influential blues player ever, but a critical study of the blues itself as a social and musical phenomenon. It takes Johnson as a central, crucial figure and looks at the musical traditions out of which he sprang, looks at his recorded legacy in detail, then examines the manner in which his influence spread following his tragically early death. Elijah Wald takes the somewhat controversial view that the early blues players were simply playing what was for them popular music.

Robert Johnson “No one involved in the blues world was calling this music art. It was working-class pop music, and its purveyors were looking for immediate sales, with no expectation that their songs would be remembered once the blues vogue had passed.” He also poses difficult questions such as why Robert Johnson was ignored by the core black audience of his time yet is now celebrated as the greatest figure in blues history.

Wald is immensely well-informed on the social, historical, and musical background of his topic. All his claims about the relative popularity of musicians is backed up by statistics of the recordings they made, their record sales (where known), and even the most-played records on jukeboxes. Every page is littered with the names of blues musicians – men and women whose work he obviously knows inside out.

The book is structured in three parts – the first is a contextualisation of blues music in the USA in the years 1900-1930; the second is his account of the life of Robert Johnson and an analysis of his recorded legacy; and the third is his socio-musical account of what happened to the blues after his death.

 

He argues that commentators have persistently ignored the sophistication of black musicians, and failed to acknowledge that the blues might be only one of a variety of styles in which they played, depending on the occasion.

White urbanites, for obvious reasons, are fascinated by a creation myth in which genius blossomed, wild and untamed, from the delta mud, and are less interested in the unromantic picture of Muddy Waters sitting by the radio listening to Fats Waller, or a sharecropper singing Broadway show tunes as he followed his mule along the levee.

When he comes to Robert Johnson, the romantic, tempestuous life is sketched out in a single chapter; but this is followed by three devoted to a examination of Johnson’s complete oeuvre – a couple of dozen songs recorded at two sessions in 1936. He shows in fine detail where Johnson was following the blues tradition and where he was doing something new.

Following Johnson’s death in 1938, Wald then traces how the blues morphed into rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and soul music in the post war period. The torch was just about kept aflame by figures such as Muddy Waters. But by 1960 this flame was almost on the point of being extinguished when along came white English bands such as the Beatles and the Rolling Stones who re-introduced the blues and its original heroes to the USA – where they had come from in the first place.

It’s a controversial claim, but as usual he backs it up with plenty of evidence – not least from figures such as Muddy Waters himself:

I thinks to myself how these white kids was sitting down and thinking and playing the blues that my black kids was bypassing. That was a hell of a thing, man, to think about.

This is a passionately and intelligently argued study which situates blues music in the social and economic world out of which it grew. But what stands clear most of all is the towering romantic figure of Robert Johnson. Reading this book makes you ache to hear his wonderful music yet again.

© Roy Johnson 2005

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Elijah Wald, Escaping the Delta: Robert Johnson and the Invention of the Blues, New York: HarperCollins, 2005, pp.342, ISBN: 0060524278


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Essays on the History of Copyright

August 4, 2010 by Roy Johnson

This is a collection of academic essays that seeks to establish legitimacy for a relatively new intellectual discipline – the study of the history of copyright. The editors in their introduction maintain that new academic disciplines arise when it generally becomes felt that there is need for them. It is certainly true that many of the technological advances of the last twenty years (in the digitization, reproduction, re-purposing, transmogrification, and distribution of various media) have brought issues of copyright, ownership, and intellectual property rights into sharp focus. And it’s important to realise that this does not only affect the printed word: films, photographs, music, paintings, even simple trademarks and branding logos have all been the subject of amazingly expensive legal disputes recently.

Power and Privilege: Essays on the History of CopyrightThe essays as you might expect take a long historical perspective. Issues of copyright (indeed, even of authorship itself) did not arise as a problem until the invention of the printing press made the mass production of an important cultural object (the book) available in the fifteenth century. So, the collection begins with the granting of the first patent in 1469 for a five year printing monopoly in Venice. It’s interesting to note that since many of the first books put into general circulation were versions of Greek and Roman classics, it was their formal appearance, font design, and physical shape that was protected, not their intellectual content or authorship.

It was only later, as the number of original published works started to rise, that individual authors began to apply for what we would now call copyright; and in their cases it was permission to print and sell a single edition of a work over a long enough time span (five years) to give them a chance to cover initial costs.

In 1644 Milton issued his Areopagitica as a protest against state censorship and in favour of freedom of the press. The important point to stress here is that he was explicitly championing the free circulation of ideas. The licence-free period that followed saw the establishment of English newspapers, with sales by 1711 of up to 70,000 per week.

Meanwhile, in America, the arrival of the first printing press in Massachusetts was greeted with prohibitions, censorship, licensing, and colonial control. It was only after the War of Independence that authors successfully applied for copyright to their work.

There are chapters tracing the slight variations in law that sprang up in France, Italy, and Germany. All sorts of different systems were tried, from temporary arrangements affecting only a single work, to ‘perpetual copyright’.

There are (understandably) quite a lot of legal and even philosophical issues at stake in some of these battles over rights and regulations. These become even more complex as the first attempts were made in the late nineteenth century to establish international agreements. It should be remembered that authors such as Dickens were forced to struggle to establish their rights in the USA.

Many of today’s commercial strategies were already in play in previous centuries – so long as the technological means to create copies and profit were available. The painter Benjamin West made £400 for his famous 1771 depiction of The Death of General Woolfe, but almost one hundred times more from the engravings that were made from it.

It is also worth noting that two other factors complicated the drafting of legislation on these matters. One was the fact that the law (in Britain) was also being framed to protect the interest of the owners or the public against possibly unscrupulous artists. The second was that the idea that a work of art should be ‘new and original’ was a surprisingly late consideration, introduced only to the 1862 Fine Arts Copyright Bill.

There was also separate legislation covering copyright in works of dramatic art and performance rights. Amazingly, the nineteenth century world of theatre was rife with stenographers in the audience recording the text of new plays as they were acted out on stage. These were then sold on to other theatre managers, who often claimed copyright, rather than the original author.

What this impressive collection of articles does not do is bring the arguments up into the digital age. That is understandable when its very objective is to establish a long history on which to build a new discipline. But anyone with the slightest interest in these issues of copyright and intellectual property rights will be keen to know how digitization and ease of reproduction are changing many of the traditional assumptions. Mashups, print-on-demand, open source software, file-sharing, and the new ‘hybrid economies’ of eCommerce are changing the face of copyright, ownership, and commercial rights. To keep up with these issues, you will need to look beyond the traditionalists to the work of Lawrence Lessig, Chris Anderson, and Cory Doctorow.

It’s an interesting book production in its own right. OpenBook Publishers are a new business supplying academic print on demand (PoD) titles. The books they publish are available, free to view on line as searchable PDFs – but a file can quickly be turned into a conventionally printed and bound book for those who wish to pay for it. This title, I must say, is a handsome volume you would be pleased to have on your shelves.

History of Copyright   Buy the book at Amazon UK
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© Roy Johnson 2010


Ronan Deazeley et al (eds), Power and Privilege: Essays on the History of Copyright, Cambridge: Open Book Publishing, 2010, pp.438, ISBN: 190692418X


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Explosion in a Cathedral

September 29, 2018 by Roy Johnson

tutorial, study guide, commentary, political background

Explosion in a Cathedral (1962) is a major novel by Alejo Carpentier that deals with the effects of the French revolution in the Caribbean. Its central character is based on a real person, Victor Hughes, a baker’s son from Marseilles, who became a leading figure in events on the colonial island of Guadeloupe.

Explosion in a Cathedral

The novel was first published in Spanish with the title El Siglo de las Luces. The English version was translated from the French edition whose title was Le Siecle des Lumiers. Carpentier spoke French but wrote in Spanish. The English translation is by John Sturrock, and its title is taken from a painting that figures in the narrative and symbolises the explosive nature of the revolution.


Explosion in a Cathedral – commentary

The political background

The subject of Carpentier’s novel is the effects of the French Revolution in the Caribbean. At that time in the late eighteenth century (The Age of Enlightenment) the islands of this region were occupied by colonising Europeans – the French, the Dutch, the English, and the Spanish – all of whom were intermittently at war with each other.

A near-neighbour was America, which had undergone its own revolution in 1776. They had defeated their colonial occupiers the British, and declared the Rights of Man (written by Englishman Thomas Paine). All of these European powers (and America) were squabbling for the material wealth created by these Caribbean colonies – wealth generated by the use of slave labour.

The novel begins in Havana, Cuba, which at that time was under Spanish rule. The action then passes on to Guadeloupe, which the French adventurer Victor Hughes seizes from the English. His companion Esteban is then despatched to Cayenne, the capital city of French Guiana, after which he returns to Havana.

The main drama of the French revolution and its decisions unfold in Paris, outside the events of the fictional narrative. The revolution itself has already taken place, and is followed by the Terror in which many of the original leaders are executed. There is then a counter-revolution which reverses many of the radical proposals of the original revolutionaries.

During this process of upheaval the revolution accepted the principles of the universal rights of man – and abolished slavery, on which French (and other) colonies were entirely dependent. This decision was later diluted then reversed, but for a short while some of these colonies became for the first time in history republics governed by former slaves. Carpentier’s earlier novel The Kingdom of this World (1949) deals with this process in Hispaniola (Haiti).

Revolution as disruption

There were three political problems affecting the entire region of the Antilles (the Caribbean). First was the rapacious conflict between European colonising powers. In the scramble for wealth, countries formed strategic alliances with their enemies, then dissolved them just as quickly and formed new ones.

Second was the ever-changing decrees promulgated by the revolutionary centre in Paris. Mandatory rules were harshly imposed, then replaced by their opposites. One moment a leading figure could be a Supreme Hero, next he could be declared an Enemy of the People – and executed. The revolution was making up these rules as it went along.

And the rules didn’t just affect Paris: they applied throughout the whole of the newly-proclaimed republic, which included mainland France and its many colonies in the Caribbean and elsewhere. It is worth reflecting that Guiana, a country in Latin America almost on the equator, is still a colony of France, as is La Reunion, an island in the Indian Ocean. (Ironies of history: both of these colonies are now part of the European Union.)

The third problem was the delay of up to several weeks before any new decrees arrived in the Caribbean after a sea passage across the Atlantic. Events were changing rapidly in the metropolitan centre of Paris, but they could only reach the colonies via a lengthy sea voyage. The colonial outposts were often enforcing a set of rules that had already been superseded weeks or even months previously.

There was a fourth problem – well illustrated in the figure of Victor Hughes. When new regulations reached the colony, they were not always obeyed. Victor Hughes, as a purist from the first phase of the revolution, was prepared to export the guillotine as a symbol of the revolution’s fanatical desire to eliminate its enemies. But when the counter-revolution moderated this fanaticism, he refuses to accept its revised directives.

Carpentier assumes that his readers know these principal events and the leaders of the revolution. He generally alludes to the main figures – Robespierre, Danton, and Saint-Just – without naming them, and they are certainly not foregrounded.

Apart from Hughes, the main historical character who appears in the novel is the lesser-known Billaud-Varenne. He was an important figure during the Terror, but he had been overthrown during the events of the counter-revolution (Thermidor) and he had been exiled to Cayenne in French Guiana. He is reduced almost to a figure of fun – rotting in the colony to which the revolution exported its prisoners.

Esteban witnesses the same phenomenon when he (rather improbably) goes to southern France and finds the Basques resistant to new and long-delayed directives arriving from Paris. The revolutionaries re-name towns, but so far as the local people are concerned, Chauvin-Dragon remains Saint-Jean-de-Luz, just as it always has been.

Characters

Carpentier is trying to capture the sweep of grand scale historical events, and as such he does not concentrate so much on the psychology of individual characters as is common in many traditional European novels. In this he adopts a remarkably similar approach to the historical novels of the writer Victor Serge, which deal with the effects of the Russian revolution. The two writers were near-contemporaries, but there is little reason to believe that they were aware of each other.

The three principal characters in a traditional sense are the siblings Carlos and Sofia, plus their orphan cousin Esteban. Carlos plays almost no part in the story, most of which concerns Esteban’s travels and his reaction to revolutionary events.

Esteban follows Victor Hughes throughout the Caribbean (even to France at one point) and gradually becomes more sceptical about the revolution. He is uneducated, and clings to the traditional religious beliefs of his fellow countrymen. In this sense he represents the view of the average person.

He is intimately connected with the Caribbean and its land and sea. But he also has higher aspirations and goals, even if he is unable to articulate them in any meaningful manner.

Sofia, as a female representative of the historical period, is forced to take a passive, background role. She is close to her brother and her cousin, and she shares their enthusiasm for revolutionary principles. But she is unable to ‘find’ herself, even in her brief marriage to Jorge, until she leaves Havana and travels to join Victor Hughes, the man who has awakened her dormant sexuality. When he betrays his revolutionary principles, she deserts him and joins Esteban in Spain.

Revolution

Many critics of Carpentier’s novels observe that he often shows revolutions that degenerate into dictatorships, which then give rise to further revolts. They conclude from this that he has a cyclic view of history – one in which ‘history repeats itself’. That is, revolutions only lead to equally bloody counter-revolutions and no real progress is made. This seems to me an over-simplified and mistaken understanding of his work.

What Carpentier does not shirk as a responsible novelist is the fact that revolutions are violent and bloody events, often involving cruelty and injustice. But he does show very clearly that revolutions are a result of economic and class conflicts. More than that, he argues quite clearly that revolutions progress from below upwards, not as a result of decisions made by ruling elites.

In the context of the Caribbean, this is illustrated perfectly well by the case of the slave revolts – in which a dispossessed lower group (almost classless) rises against its oppressors – the owners and managers of the plantations. And as Carpentier points out, the abolition of slavery was not some altruistic diktat that arose from the good will of a Parisian committee. It was the outcome of numerous historical uprisings:

Ten years later the drums were beating in Haiti; in the Cap region the Muslim Mackandal, a one-armed man to whom lycanthropic powers were attributed, began a Revolution-by-Poison … Only seven years ago, just when it seemed that White Supremacy had been re-established on the continent, another black Mohammedan, Boukman, had risen in the Bosque Caiman in San Domingo, burning houses and devastating the countryside. And it was no more than three years ago that the negroes in Jamaica had rebelled again, to avenge the condemnation of two thieves who had been tortured in Trelawney Town.

A structural oddity

It should be reasonably clear that the structure of the novel is one that centres on the three orphaned relatives – Sofia, Carlos, and Esteban – confronted by a fourth man, Victor Hughes, who will change their lives. Esteban carries the main part of narrative events. It is through his eyes that we witness the early phases of the revolution in the Caribbean.

Later, the decay of revolutionary principles is witnessed by Sofia when she leaves Havana to join Hughes in his fiefdom at Cayenne in French Guiana. She becomes disenchanted by Hughes’ lack of principles and flees to Europe.

Carlos, who has been absent since the first pages of the novel, returns in its final chapter to uncover news of Sofia and Esteban in Madrid. They have remained committed to the earliest principles of the revolution and have disappeared into the fight to preserve them.

Yet there is an unexplained peculiarity about the structure of the novel. It actually begins with a short preface which is Esteban’s first-person account describing the erection of a guillotine on board La Pique as it sails for Guadeloupe. There is never any return to this first-person mode of delivering the story, nor is there any explanation offered for how this preface relates to the rest of the novel.

The reading experience

If you have not experienced the work of Alejo Carpentier before, your first exposure to this novel might seem rather strange, or the narrative almost laboured. He was trying to create a new approach to fiction which combined the traditions of European culture with the need to reflect the world of the central Americas and their exotic substance and histories.

In Explosion in a Cathedral he is also trying to show historical and political forces at work – with the result that interest in individuals takes a secondary place in the narrative. His emphasis is on social change and the ideological forces that shape society as a whole.

What no reader can be unaware of, even in translation, is his deep feeling for the physical world in which he sets the events of his narrative, the wide range of his interests, and the spectacular technical vocabulary with which he articulates his vision of the world.

Carpentier was a student of both music and architecture, and he has written on both these subjects, which are plainly evident in the novel. But he also demonstrates a profound feeling for topics as wide-ranging as oceanography, domestic furnishing, and even the fabrics of everyday clothing and the flavours and ingredients of ethnic cuisine.

The girandoles and chandeliers, the lustrous mirrors and glass shutters of Esteban’s childhood had reappeared … In a food shop, next door to a butcher’s where turtle meat was displayed alongside a shoulder of lamb studded with cloves of garlic, Esteban once more saw wonders he had quite forgotten – bottles of porter, thick Westphalia hams, smoked eels and red mullet, anchovies pickled in capers and bay leaves, and potent Durham mustard. Along the river cruised boats with gilded prows and lamps on their poops, their negro oarsmen wearing white loin-cloths, and paddling amidst awnings and canopies of bright silks or Genoa velvet. They had reached such a pitch of refinement that the mahogany floors were rubbed every day with bitter oranges, whose juice, absorbed by the wood, gave off a delicious aromatic perfume.


Explosion in a Cathedral – study resources

Explosion in a Cathedral (1962) – Amazon UK

El siglo de las luces (1962) – Amazon UK

Explosion in a Cathedral (1962) – Amazon US

El siglo de las luces (1962) – Amazon US


Explosion in a Cathedral – plot summary

Chapter One

Following the death of a rich plantation owner, his son Carlos, daughter Sofia, and their orphan cousin Esteban live in the grand but neglected family home in Havana, Cuba. They explore their father’s commercial warehouse but dream of escaping to more sophisticated lands. Educational and scientific apparatus is imported, and they live an existence of nocturnal intellectual questing.

After a year’s mourning they are visited by the Frenchman Victor Hughes who regales them with tales of his commercial travels. They all play charades and he becomes a regular visitor. When Esteban has an attack of asthma Victor produces the mulatto doctor Oge who cures him by burning plants growing nearby.

Following his cure, Esteban begins visiting a prostitute. A cyclone passes over the city, Sofia is attacked by a man and she realises that she is sexually desirable. Victor takes stock inventories in the warehouse and uncovers corruption by the family’s legal executors.

When rumblings of political unrest begin, they escape to a finca on the family estate. Victor and Oge expound their revolutionary views. They travel to the south of the island and join a ship sailing for Port-au-Prince in San Domingo. In Santiago de Cuba the town is over-run with refugees fleeing the uprising in the north of the island. They escape, but find insurrection and danger wherever they land.

Chapter Two

Esteban becomes enthused by revolutionary fervour, which he perceives as a mixture of Freemasonry and religion. Victor tells him this is counter-revolutionary, and that Jacobinism is the new morality. Esteban is tasked to foment revolutionary activity, and travels to the Basque country and southern France where he finds religious belief deeply embedded.

Esteban feels cut off from the centre of power and confused by the plethora of new regulations being issued from Paris. Hearing that Victor Hughes is in the region, he writes to him and is invited to join an expeditionary force going to Guadeloupe. The Spanish and the French are at war, and are being harassed by the British in Europe and the Antilles.

Victor Hughes becomes more authoritarian, and makes excuses for ‘unfortunate’ revolutionary excesses. He has a guillotine erected on board the ship, even though he is going to announce the abolition of slavery.

Guadeloupe and St. Lucia have been occupied by the British, but Victor Hughes orders an attack, which is successful at first. But Pointe-a-Pitre is put under siege. After four weeks Hughes drives out the aggressors and seizes control of half the island.

When an edict arrives from Paris he restores belief in the Supreme Being. Then the guillotine is erected and public executions begin, introducing a reign of Terror. When news of the fall of Robespierre reaches Guadeloupe, Hughes decides to continue as if nothing had changed. He puts Esteban on board as ship’s clerk on a voyage that is supposed to promote the revolution in the Antilles.

Chapter Three

Esteban is reunited with the aquatic world. The flotilla sails through the Antilles acting like pirates. They are joined by a boat carrying escaped slaves. The female passengers are raped, and the captain takes the whole group to a Dutch-controlled island where they can be sold. All bounty is returned to Victor Hughes in Guadeloupe.

As time goes on, there is a peace treaty between France and Spain – but Hughes ignores it and continues privateering and building up his business empire at Pointe-a-Pitre.

Guadeloupe grows ever more prosperous, but Hughes wishes to declare war against America because of their support of the British against the French. There is an opera performance given by the passengers of a captured ship, after which America declares war on France. Hughes realises he is about to be replaced by a directive from Paris. He gives Esteban letters of safe conduct for French Guiana.

Chapter Four

Esteban finds the capital Cayenne run down and under-developed. He feels that the revolution has failed because it does not have convincing Gods to replace those of Christianity that have been overthrown.

He takes money and provisions to Billaud-Varenne, the exiled revolutionary. Former commanders of the Terror are rotting in the prison-colony. Esteban transfers to nearby Paramarimbo in Dutch Suriname then, finally realising that there is no Heaven on Earth, he sails back home to Havana.

Chapter Five

Esteban is disappointed to find that Sofia is now married. He recounts his adventures, believing that the cost of the revolution has been too high. His cousins disagree: they cling to their original Jacobin beliefs. At Christmas they go to the elaborate finca of Sofia’s husband’s family. Esteban desires Sofia, but she rejects him.

As the Age of Enlightenment draws to a close, Sofia’s husband Jorge is afflicted with a virulent fever. Captain Dexter visits with news that Hughes has been re-established in Cayenne. Jorge dies, and Esteban secretly hopes that everything will return to normal.

But it is revealed that Sofia is in love with Victor Hughes and wishes to join him in Cayenne. Esteban tries to stop her but fails. When the police search the house for evidence of support for the revolution, Esteban delivers a long ‘confession’ giving her time to escape on Dexter’s ship the Arrow.

Chapter Six

Sophia is en route via Venezuela to join Hughes in order to promote the principles of the revolution in the Americas, since it seems to have failed in Europe. On arrival in Cayenne she is taken to Hughes’ private hacienda. Her relationship with Hughes is a success: she comes to life physically and still believes that she is destined for some sort of significant life experience.

Suddenly a new decree reintroduces slavery, and Hughes applies it just as ruthlessly as he did its abolition. He tries to create cultivated European gardens in what is essentially a wilderness. When the slaves suddenly revolt and escape into the jungle he organises troops to track them down – much to Sofia’s disgust. The expedition is a failure, and they return defeated and infected with fever.

The fever affects the entire town, and Hughes almost goes blind. When it lifts and he eventually recovers, Sofia leaves him and sets sail for Europe.

Chapter Seven

Carlos turns up at a house in Madrid and pieces together from gossip the story of Sofia and Esteban’s last days there. They threw themselves into a revolt against the French and were never heard of again.


Explosion in a Cathedral – characters
Esteban an orphan, originally asthmatic, follower of Hughes
Sofia spirited and intelligent, in love with Hughes
Carlos her brother
Victor Hughes a French adventurer, businessman, and former Jacobin revolutionary
Doctor Oge a revolutionary
Remigio a negro servant
Caleb Dexter American captain of the Arrow
Barthelemy captain of L’Ami du Peuple
Jorge Sofia’s husband who dies

© Roy Johnson 2018


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Father and Son

April 30, 2012 by Roy Johnson

A child pulled between religion, science, and poetry

Father and Son (1907) is a profoundly sad book which details the struggle between religious belief and scientific rationalism in the middle of the nineteenth century. It has the appearance of an autobiography, but author Edmund Gosse stresses more than once that it’s a ‘study of two temperaments’, by which he means the relationship between him and his father, Philip Gosse. It’s sad because his story details the terrible struggle between two people who obviously love each other dearly, but in ways which are completely different and even antagonistic.

Father and SonThe father is a strict, authoritarian, and evangelical Christian who wishes to control and mould a son entirely in his own image. The son feels oppressed, lonely, burdened with anxiety and self-doubt, and he is denied the pleasures and innocence of a normal childhood. On almost every page the reader is invited to sympathise with the fragile and tender feelings of a young boy who is denied any form of natural enjoyment, but is exhorted to prepare himself for Judgement Day. Before even the age of ten he is being commanded to prove the fervour of his commitment to the True Way to God.

His father Philip Gosse was a successful writer, a naturalist, and a member of the fundamentalist Christian sect of Plymouth Brethren. They believed that every word of the Bible was literally true because in their terms it was the actual word of God. All other religious beliefs were deemed heretical and their adherents doomed to hell and damnation – particularly Catholics. The Lord would only save those who truly believed, and who were prepared to be baptised (often for a second time) as adults.

To accept this ideology was only the beginning. After that it was the duty of every true believer to proselytise and convert non-believers to the True Way. The young Gosse had this drummed into him relentlessly in a domestic routine which was puritanical, cheerless, and devoid of any normal social pleasures.

The narrative documents his lonely childhood in Islington with no friends, the early death of his mother, and an amazing absence of any formal education. This was followed by a move to live in Devon when he was about ten years old – which provided a slight amelioration in the grimness of life. But it’s significant that this slim pleasure was found in gathering and documenting specimens of sea creatures in rock pools on the shore – which was precisely his father’s scientific specialism.

The central point of the drama comes in 1857 when his father published a work of theory (with the unfortunate title of Omphalos) which sought to reconcile Biblical accounts of creation (Genesis) with scientific evidence of the world’s evolution over millions and millions of years. His explanation was a version of what we now call creationism. He suggested that God made the world completely in six days – and that it already contained all the aeons of materials that we now see as historical evidence. Moreover, all its animal life was in a fully developed state of being.

Expecting great things from this work, he was mortified when it was badly received, and of course two years later in 1859 Darwin delivered the hammer blow of The Origin of Species which provided the explanation that is still accepted today and that constituted a challenge to religious belief that left it reeling.

Boarding school provided a slight relief from the physical presence of parental pressure. However, the interrogations his father had subjected him to personally were immediately replaced by an almost daily demanded for written evidence detailing proof of his son’s efforts to remain uncontaminated and free from the temptations of ‘infidelity’. At that time this meant adherence to the True Way and was code for a virulent strain of anti-Catholicism.

The young Gosse discovered Shakespeare and romantic poetry as a sort of alternative and antidote to the extreme puritanism his father continued to impose on him, but in the end he never shook off the shackles of religious belief. It’s interesting to note that this semi-confessional memoir and heart-rending account of a spiritually anguished childhood originally ended with Gosse in a religious fervour, imploring the Lord to take him away:

Come now, Lord Jesus, come now and take me to for ever with Thee in Thy Paradise. I am ready to come. My heart is purged from sin, there is nothing that keeps me rooted to this wicked world … take me before I have known the temptations of life, before I have to go to London and all the dreadful things that happen there.

It was the publisher Heinemann who insisted on his writing an Epilogue which brought the account to its natural conclusion – which was the eventual (partial) triumph of the son’s sense of personal identity over the tyranny of such an oppressive father figure.

The struggle between them continued even when Gosse was a young adult, living independently. Eventually he mustered sufficient courage to express mild reservations about evangelical Christianity and its exclusive claim to the Truth. But it is his father’s devastating and uncompromising riposte, holding to the logic of his fundamentalist belief which is the artistic conclusion of the narrative.

Some readers have said that it is the oppressive, scholarly, and Ahab-like figure of Gosse senior who emerges as the more admirable of the two characters (or ‘temperaments’) and that Gosse junior reveals himself as a feeble, complaining, and self-centred figure.

That’s why the book is so sad – because it’s almost impossible not to wish that this young child then young man could break away from his emotionally tyrannical father – having the confidence to throw off the system of belief that is being welded onto him like a suit of armour. But he never really succeeds.

Gosse went on to become a successful man of letters and was instrumental in introducing figures such as Ibsen and Gide into English literary culture, but this is the book for which he will be remembered. It’s rather like one of the Cotman or Crome watercolours that are evoked in the text – offering a pastoral and sentimental vision of English childhood that nevertheless captures the powerful ideological conflicts that affected the latter part of the Victorian era. It’s perhaps significant that the memoir was published only a few years before Lytton Strachey’s Eminent Victorians, a book that helped to draw a line under the same phenomenon for once and all.

Father and Son Buy the book at Amazon UK

Father and Son Buy the book at Amazon US

© Roy Johnson 2012


Edmund Gosse, Father and Son, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009, pp.241, ISBN: 0199539111


Filed Under: 19C Literature, 20C Literature Tagged With: 19C Literature, Biography, Cultural history, Edmund Gosse, Father and Son, Literary studies

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