On the 25th March, 1925 the American writer Flannery O’Connor was born. She spent all her life in Georgia, and her writing was inspired by the people and the culture that surrounded her. This was a Southern state with a unique reputation. It was characterised by its deep religious piety, but it also attracted notoriety for something altogether darker and unsettling.
Smalltown Georgia in the forties and fifties was not an especially tolerant place. It maintained an outward civility but it remained hostile to anyone who was perceived as different. Black people, especially young black men were subject to the worst kind of prejudice and discrimination. In the pre-civil rights era, an astonishing 531 lynchings occurred, the second highest number of extralegal executions within the entire southern United States.
O’Connor writes in an unsparing and pitiless tone about this climate of suspicion and fear, and the obstinacy displayed by the people living within it. It is a stark contrast to the wholesome and glamourised image of the south as evinced by Margaret Mitchell in her romantic novel “Gone With The Wind”. In Mitchell’s imagination this is a rich and lush landscape inhabited by a happy and harmonious set of people unscathed by slavery. O’Connor’s version of the south is bleak, and steeped in bathos. Her 1952 novella “Wise Blood” illustrates this perfectly. The narrative is nihilistic and cynical. It is purposefully stripped of any superficiality and romance to reveal the decadent underbelly.
The book uncovers the harsh reality of post-war America. It is a battle scarred nation that is wrestling with its identity. Many of the characters are solitary figures who privately struggle with afflictions of one kind or another. Empathy is entirely absent and all that emerges from the story is the sense that desperation is the most valuable commodity. This is exploited for maximum gain. It is a merciless system where the most vulnerable are manipulated and corrupted to enrich others.
However the individuals depicted are not presented as helpless victims of fate, they are painted as proud, dignified and singular in their suffering. They are the embodiment of martyrdom. They resemble Biblical figures who strive only to seek meaning in a place and time that has no real semblance of meaning, and seems just random and cruel. O’Connor herself had her own private health battles, and died aged only 39, but her legacy endures.
On the 9th March 1997 the Welsh screenwriter and novelist Terry Nation died. He was remembered with fondness and affection as a stalwart of British television, and the pioneering force behind television classics like “Doctor Who” and “Blake’s 7”. He was a tour de force in British broadcasting for many decades, and his example remains unmatched. He wasn’t just respected by his contemporaries in broadcasting, he was also immensely popular with audiences.
However it is sad to reflect that imaginative, challenging television does not exist anymore, and it is less likely to be commissioned by a staid and declining art form. He was the heir to science fiction and folk horror innovators like Nigel Kneale. Kneale’s numerous films and programmes were disturbing reflections of a rapidly changing nation.
He chronicled the difficulties of living in twentieth century Britain, exploring its uneasy relationship with the rest of the globe and vice versa. He observed how tradition jarred with modernity and how superstition conflicted with reason. He had a profound insight into the sensibility of a nation wrestling with the new whilst continuously clinging to the past. He had more of an understanding than the glut of metropolitan commissioners and producers that inhabited the echelons of British broadcasting, as he came from the Isle of Man.
His output on the small screen exemplified the problems when modern, universalist notions were imposed on well established communities with enduring local traditions. Many will inevitably resist such an imposition, and cling to their old ways as these are more familiar to them. Our ancestors viewed themselves as an integral part of the natural world, as opposed to the modern belief that we are separate from it. There was no attempt to battle with the forces of nature, or to dominate and subdue them. This was simply unthinkable.
The future was unfamiliar and strange. Such an intangible notion would have seemed an artifice, yet Kneale’s characters stand on the threshold between the past and the future. They are gazing into an abyss. They are standing on the precipice looking down on an open chasm of unfamiliarity, confusion and disorientation. In “Quatermass and the Pit”, an archaeological dig at a defunct Tube station recovers the remains of a Martian spaceship. This one discovery challenges the preconceptions and prejudices surrounding what actually constitutes humanity, and even material reality itself.
It is later revealed that these Martians interbred with proto-human hominids to maintain their survival on Earth. Clearly alien and human are merely social constructs, and the distinction between them is purely arbitrary. In the final serial of “Quatermass” a new generation of Planet People yearn to escape into another cosmic dimension. Amidst the malcontent, armed street gangs tour the barricaded streets.
This is Kneale’s bleakest vision of the future. There is no hope left in the shell of this urban wasteland, only the ghosts of a past that no-one remembers. Alien and human are disconnected, and atomised. All that remains is the overwhelming desire for annihilation, and the vain belief that they will ultimately regenerate in another manifestation in a faraway solar system.
Time travel, and alien beings were a popular combination of subjects for prime time television. It was this interesting juxtaposition of themes that inspired the work of Terry Nation. Nation was originally a comedy writer, but branched out into science fiction when he realised the immense commercial potential. In 1963 he conceived “The Daleks” for the second series of Doctor Who. These were alien creatures created after a nuclear bomb, and who survive purely on the radiation in the atmosphere. They are war like, and in constant battle with their pacifist foes the Thals. The Doctor’s nemesis is Davros, the progenitor of the Daleks.
Terry Nation continued to contribute to Doctor Who until 1979. He was also commissioned to write “Survivors” in 1975. This was a television series that imagined the last human lives on a planet devastated by a deadly plague. Three years later he was responsible for the science fiction series “Blake’s 7”. This followed a group of criminals and political prisoners escaping from the evil “Terran Federation” on a spaceship of an unknown origin.
Blakes 7 ended in 1981, and Nation sought new creative opportunities in Los Angeles. He was a scriptwriter for “Macgyver” and “A Fine Romance”. He was also the author of numerous works of fiction. Nation’s creations have left an indelible mark on generations of British people, and they have even shaped our consciousness and our very identity. It is hard to imagine what our psychology would have been like without his stellar work, and we will continue to celebrate him.
On the 17th February, Christians all around the globe will observe Shrove Tuesday. It is an occasion of great significance, as it is the day before Ash Wednesday and the tradition of the Lenten fast. In many cultures, Shrove Tuesday is traditionally a day of feasting marked by communal indulgence and celebration. Pancakes are made with the richest ingredients. Families participate in the cooking and games like pancake racing are all part and parcel of community celebration.
In more devout communities, Lent is a time of complete abstinence. During this period a plain vegan diet is adopted and eggs, butter and sugar are totally forbidden. However Shrove Tuesday is a day when these strict dietary rules are ignored, in fact the direct opposite is true. Pancakes are topped with jam, chocolate and sweetened lemon. It is a day dedicated to fun, and family celebration before the austere ceremonies of Lent begin. Lent is not just about fasting, it is a time of atonement and reflection on past sins and dishonourable behaviours.
Our ancestors understood the significance of events like these, and the profound meaning embedded within every ceremony and spectacle. They were more aware of occasions when food was scarce, and were eternally grateful when there was a surfeit. The connection between honourable behaviour and heavenly reward was inextricable. They literally believed that this was true. Human wickedness may have material rewards in the mortal realm, but the punishment in the hereafter was guaranteed. “Shrove” is a now obsolete English word meaning absolution. Derivations of this word include “shriven” and “to shrift”. Also the phrase “short shrift” is still in common parlance, albeit with a slightly different meaning and connotation.
In everyday conversation, “short shrift” is only understood as receiving unsympathetic treatment, but originally it referred to the quick method of absolution granted to a condemned prisoner destined for the gallows. The religious aspect to this term has vanished, along with the religious nature of Shrove Tuesday itself.
However in Shakespeare’s time, religion was integral to the discourse. His audience would have been god fearing and devout. He utilised these sensibilities for his own dramatic purposes, creating dastardly caricatures who meet misfortune as a consequence of their behaviours.
His play “Richard III” was effectively Tudor propaganda. The last Plantagenet King is presented as a grotesque, the personification of evil. The brutality of his character is exaggerated for theatrical effect. His scheming and callous disregard for human life is all laid bare.
The King’s cold condemnation of Lord Hastings, who he believes is plotting against him is revealed. He sentences Hastings to death, and on the day of his execution these same ominous words are uttered by Richard’s closest aides Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and are appended rather chillingly with “the King longs to see your head”. However the King’s underhand tactics were destined to end badly, in a humiliating defeat at the Battle of Bosworth.
The history plays of Shakespeare, and the intricate poetry, inspired by Biblical truth continue to resonate. Throughout the festivities, it is apt to recall the poignancy and piquancy of these lost words and phrases as a distillation of a simpler time.
On the 7th January, 1891 the African-American writer, anthropologist, folklorist and filmmaker Zora Neale Hurston was born. She grew up in Eatonville, Florida, one of the first autonomous black principalities in the United States. Her father was the Mayor, and a Baptist minister in the town.
She was educated at a Baptist boarding school in Jacksonville but was forced to leave after her father failed to pay her tuition fees. She worked as a maid and attended night school, before leaving for University in Washington. While on the course she grew fascinated by anthropology and folklore.
It opened up her mind to other cultures, which seemed so remote and distinct from the earthy humour and superstition of her hometown. However, as her upbringing was so detached from the experience of white Americans, it gave her a much greater sense of appreciation for the wisdom that she acquired growing up in an all black neighbourhood. She realised that her memories of the stories, traditions and rituals had a profound significance. She decided to continue to pursue anthropology as an academic subject, and she also composed short stories and satirical pieces.
In 1925 she was granted a scholarship at Columbia University, and three years later she received her B.A in anthropology. Her literary and scholarly talents were recognised by the philanthropist and literary patron Charlotte Osgood Mason. She provided Hurston with a stipend of $200 a month to help further her research into folklore. In 1935 she published her first literary anthology on African-American folklore called “Mules and Men”. This was swiftly followed by the novels “Their Eyes Were Watching God” and “Moses, Man of the Mountain”. Her extensive research work took her to the Southern states of America and also the Caribbean, where she collected stories and testimonies from the African diaspora.
In 1938, another collection of folklore was published. It was called “Tell My Horse” and it details the syncretic beliefs of the post-colonial world. Hurston’s work was overlooked in her lifetime, as she was overshadowed by literary titans like Richard Wright and Langston Hughes. Both Wright and Hughes were overtly partisan in their political beliefs, and this inevitably gave them more gravitas culturally. Hurston only reflected her experiences, and did not perceive herself as a propagandist for the cause of racial equality. Her objectivity, and obvious affection for the community of Eatonville resonates in her writing.
On the 1st January, 1988 the first English language edition of the novel “Love in the Time of Cholera”, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez was published. It was something of a gift to the Anglophone literary world, as it opened up a new and exciting frontier of writing and writers.
The culture of post-colonial Latin America was once hidden from the rest of the world. It was a region that was considered mysterious and exotic, and Marquez was an expert and a vivid voice describing this colourful and multidimensional corner of the world.
The novel is set in an era where tradition and modernity converge. It is a confusing time for the characters who inhabit a place of instability and uncertainty. The confusion stems from the imbalance between pragmatic duty, loyalty and the affairs of the heart.
The characters are suspended on a precipice, a precarious line between the old world and the new world. This is illustrated with a dramatic and auspicious scene, the occasion of a hot air balloon ride on the eve of the twentieth century.
The main protagonists are the fastidious, correct, upright Doctor Urbino, his wife Fermina, and her lost love Florentino. Florentino is a humble shipping clerk who, as the story unfolds, works his way up to become the manager of the company.
He is revealed to have poetic aspirations and dreams. Their initial courtship is clandestine, and fails when by chance the doctor arrives in Fermina’s life. She is persuaded by her family to marry him.
The contrasts between enlightenment and superstition, medicine and primitivism could not be more stark. The parallels between the epidemic of cholera and the pathology of love are intensely moving. Urbino seems immune to affection, and perceives marriage as purely pragmatic. He is puzzled by the very idea of romantic love, and how it is possible between two opposing genders.
Urbino dies, allowing the revival of Fermina and Florentina’s love affair. Even in old age, their love has refused to die. It has left a permanent imprint. Marquez detailed an alluring and magical world that has continued to charm.
On the 20th of November, 1752 the English poet Thomas Chatterton was born. He was born in Bristol to a family who played an important and prestigious role in the office of sexton for St Mary Radcliffe Church. His mother, Sarah Chatterton was a part-time seamstress. His father, also called Thomas, was a numismatist who died shortly after he was born.
He was educated at Edward Colston’s charity school, reputedly on the site of a ruined Carmelite convent. His childhood was steeped in mystery and myth, but also difficulty and poverty. This inauspicious start in life did not bode well for his future. In spite of his efforts to establish himself as a professional poet he died at the tragically young age of 17. His death occurred in murky circumstances. Many assumed that he had taken his own life.
However other commentators have suggested that his demise may have been accidental, as his death was attributed to arsenic poisoning. Arsenic was a common treatment for venereal disease at that time. Nonetheless his death still created a myth that lingers to this day, of the tortured, doomed and misunderstood poet destined for obscurity.
His death and the legend that surrounded it influenced other writers and artists for at least a century afterwards, and beyond. In 1835 the French playwright Alfred de Vigny wrote the visionary drama “Chatterton”. The troubled Victorian poet and Catholic mystic Francis Thompson believed that he was saved from suicide by the comforting presence of Chatterton’s ghost.
The myth was also immortalised in the popular imagination by the pre-Raphaelite artist Henry Wallis in his 1856 painting “The Death of Chatterton”. In 2010 the outsider artist George Harding was inspired to create his own interpretation of this iconic image in the painting “Everything is Real except God and Death”, inspired by his experience as an in-patient at Bethlem hospital.
Harding re-imagined the mythic figure of Chatterton, and re-created the infamous death scene with himself at the centre. However in the painting, Harding is not dead, but in a state of madness and confusion. In the grip of his delusion, he has no head, in its place is the Eye of Providence. The painting illustrates that disturbing and unsettling no-man’s land that exists between reality and insanity in which death itself has no meaning.
Chatterton’s extraordinary life and death provides a dark inspiration for those who have found themselves adrift in society. Chatterton was an imaginative and sensitive child. When he was six he amused himself with solitary pursuits, and spent entire days reading and writing. At school he was prone to daydreaming, and neglected his academic work. He started writing poetry at the age of eleven, and this was encouraged by his mother.
He was fascinated by history, particularly folklore and many of his earliest writings illuminate the old myths and tales of England. The ancient legends and landscapes of England, especially Bristol animated his verse. This was something that he cultivated while still a schoolboy at Colston’s school. It was staggering to consider that he was only sixteen, and unlike many youths of today who are only too keen to forge ahead and create new ideas for the future, he was more inclined to look back into the past.
Chatterton adored the rarefied world of Medieval England. This was a period replete with ornate mythology and lore. It was a realm so captivating that he would frequently lose himself within it. He even adopted the persona of a Medieval poet, and attempted to appropriate the syntax and style. He created the pseudonym “Thomas Rowley”. The “Rowley” poems are an astounding testament to his literary and linguistic talents, honed at such a young age.
Chatterton believed that the character that he imagined, of a Medieval scholar, scribe and Priest, was so convincing, that he could fool the literary establishment. He appealed to the great and good of Bristol. He told them that he had discovered a neglected masterpiece written by an unknown and unrenowned poet from the fifteenth century. However they were unwilling to remunerate him.
Unchastened by this rejection, he sent his appeal further, to the esteemed Horace Walpole, who initially believed his account until he was informed of Chatterton’s age. He was sceptical of the veracity of the poems, and consulted his friend Thomas Gray. Gray instantly declared that the poems were fake. Walpole wrote a denouncing letter to Chatterton in which he called his poems “facile”, and the correspondence ended.
The rejection wounded him, and it sent Chatterton on a path to self-destruction, and led to his untimely demise. It seems tragic now to consider that he died not knowing that his work of medieval parody and pastiche would become a major influence on the Romantic poets, and inspire further generations of English poets.
On the 21st October, 1772 the English poet, literary critic, philosopher and theologian Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born. Coleridge was a prominent member of a rarefied group of writers and artists known collectively as the Romantics. This was an intellectual movement dedicated to the cultivation of the human imagination, regarded as the ultimate source of enlightenment and the key to the development and progression of civilisation.
In our modern understanding of the term, Romantics are idealistic dreamers with an excessively optimistic perception of human nature and its destiny. Romantics were the heirs of utopians, who themselves had too much faith in humankind, at least in terms of solving the almost intractable problems of existence. However we are living in a time of cynicism and scepticism, and these concepts do not have much significance or resonance, but in the past these ideas were considered radical.
Writers associated with utopianism include the moral philosopher William Godwin.
In 1793 Godwin published “An Enquiry Into Political Justice”. This essay fired the imagination of a young William Wordsworth. He implored others, in a spirit of reckless extravagance to “throw aside your books of chemistry” and urged his contemporaries to focus on Godwin’s theories instead. Coleridge himself was encouraged by his message and composed a “hymn” honouring him, announcing in emphatic tones.
“For that thy voice, in Passion’s stormy day,
When wild I roam’d the bleak heath of Distress,
Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way-
And told me that her name was HAPPINESS.”
At this time, Coleridge was young and fiery and determined to rid the world of all of its iniquities.
He was a bold and ambitious young man with tremendous zeal. However he was also afflicted with a sensitivity that was frequently misunderstood and maligned by mainstream society and its institutions. He was invalided out of the Army, and in spite of early academic promise, failed to graduate from Cambridge University. He published his first volume of poetry in 1796, which also featured poems from Charles Lamb and Robert Southey.
One year later he moved to a cottage in Nether Stowey, Somerset. He resided there for a year and created his best work, including “Kubla Khan”. This visionary, extraordinary poem was composed after an opium induced dream. The poem describes Xanadu, the summer capital of Mongol China. It details Emperor Kublai Khan’s pleasure dome, situated next to a holy river. The poem is a testament to the sacred and hallowed elements of the natural world.
Voyages into far flung lands are enduring themes in English literature. These are mythic tales which are not meant to be literally true. These are works designed to represent a national sensibility. These reflect a common experience living on a cold, dark island cut off from the rest of the world. The yearning for escape to more exotic climes speaks to an insular people who have a deep longing for a land of promise, a paradise, or even a garden of Eden.
Coleridge and his fellow Romantics were deeply committed to the artistic recreation of Godwin’s utopia. Utopia is more of a symbol than an actual destination, it represents the centre of goodness and harmony. The political philosophy of utopia has dwindled, but the art it inspired has left a lasting and profound legacy.
On the 21st September, 1832 the Scottish poet, historian and novelist Sir Walter Scott died. His personal reputation was mixed, owing to his allegiance with the Union and his political sympathies for the Tory party. In the eyes of his ideological allies he was a hero for championing the United Kingdom as a political and cultural entity, but his detractors dismissed him as a traitor, for repudiating the noble cause of Scottish independence.
His artistic legacy, however, remains assured. He created a distinctly Scottish literary culture which continues to be celebrated. Scott’s contribution to the canon has been incalculable. He is considered by many literary critics to be the inventor of the “historical novel”, and his example influenced the work of other distinguished novelists of the genre such as Georgette Heyer.
The literature of the British Isles is characterised by the conflation of myth with history. Poets and playwrights have always found inspiration in legendary figures like King Arthur, but Scott was the first to portray, and romanticise these characters in the novel form. One example is the 1819 novel “Ivanhoe”, a fictional depiction of medieval England under the Norman yoke. The eponymous hero, Sir Wilfred Ivanhoe is a Saxon, disinherited by his father for pledging allegiance to the Norman King Richard I. His betrayal is doubly painful as he is betrothed to Lady Rowena, a descendant of Saxon nobility.
The princess was originally promised to wed Lord Athelstane, a pretender to the English throne due to his ancestral connection to the last Saxon King Harold Godwinson. Ivanhoe is persuaded by the King to accompany him to fight in the Third Crusade. His conduct in battle is courageous and exemplary and he ultimately wins over the hearts and minds of his enemies.
Scott had similar sensibilities to other artists and writers of the period, who looked fondly back to the medieval times. In contrast to the cynicism and scepticism of the nineteenth century, this vision of the past was definitive and constant. It was a unified society founded upon solid religious and cultural principles.
This characteristically conservative rendition of British history was not universally admired or even accepted. His critics were extremely literal minded and misunderstood the purpose of his work, and were dismayed that he chose to romanticise the past. It seemed that his fellow compatriots were far more content to write tales of grievance, and exaggerated or mythologised the perennial battles between the native Scots and the English usurpers.
Scott was resolute about his work and refused to write bombastic, Anglophobic propaganda. It was tempting to write formulaic pieces for monetary gain, but it would belie his principles. He did not want to degrade himself, and he had enough acuity to see that these were simply vain attempts to undermine the Union. When partisan causes like these infiltrate literature, the art form dies. It is lazy, and shallow to write purely on the basis of a set of caricatures. It also reveals a lack of imagination.
However, caricature itself has a function in literature, but not at the exclusion of other elements. Caricature engenders familiarity, and helps to illustrate a general theme for the purpose of allegory. It has a benign use, but when it is crudely applied for the purpose of propaganda the intention is overtly malign. The reader is compelled to believe that the caricature is literal rather than figurative, and that the narrative is actual truth rather than mere allegory.
Scott reinterpreted the story of “Rob Roy” as an affectionate tribute. He did not wield the legend of a proud warrior as a stick to beat the English, but to honour and reaffirm the courage and resilience of the Scottish people. Scott was in the vanguard of a Romantic literary tradition, a movement of writers and artists who sought to arouse strong feelings in an age of increasing materialism.
The materialists were adamantly opposed to the concept of tradition. They proposed that modernity and futurism should supplant the old ideas. However romanticism was a visceral reaction to the amorality of these rationalists who emerged in the years of revolution. These uncompromising radicals and reactionaries sought to tear down the foundations of European civilisation. Their ultimate aim was to cleanse humanity, divest it from every challenge and erase every difficulty. Science was considered to be the solution for everything that stifled human progress.
His appeal to sentiment in the face of cold reason was timely, as chaos rapidly unfolded across Europe. This hollow eyed mechanistic philosophy only served to deaden the imagination. Scott knew that a continent cast adrift from its moorings is ultimately headed towards disaster. European civilisation itself was a triumph of human imagination. The revolutions across Europe were proof that when ingenuity dies, society descends into primitivism and barbarism.
Scott was an avowed Monarchist as well as a Unionist and a Tory. Pitifully, even now, many people are perplexed by the actual existence of a Scottish Tory, as if that is an inherent contradiction. Scott always sought a compromise between these supposedly competing identities. He was content to reside in a realm that made sense to him, in spite of the bafflement of others. He knew that as a Scotsman, he would have to endure a certain level of political and cultural subordination under the aegis of the Union, and the Crown.
The Crown was founded upon shaky ground, and historically the Celtic nations have always struggled to relate to this institution. This disconnection threatened the Union itself, and the continuity of the sovereign state. The Hanoverian era proved to be a test for the continuity of the British Monarchy. King George III was descended from Prussian Royalty, and in spite of the fact that he was born in Britain, Scottish people did not feel that he represented them.
In 1822, George was due to make an official visit to Edinburgh. This was the first visit to Scotland by a reigning monarch since the coronation of King Charles II in 1651. Scott was appointed by the King as the organiser of the fortnight’s extravaganza. Scott managed to find Scottish royal regalia for the procession at Edinburgh castle. He also persuaded the King’s cohort to wear Highland dress at the banquet at Parliament House, the scene where centuries earlier Scotland ruled as a separate political entity.
The highlight of the banquet occurred when the King decided to raise a toast to the “Clans and Chieftains of Scotland”, prompting the chief of the Macgregor clan to toast “the Chief of Chiefs-the King!”. The two week celebration was a success and the pageantry, pomp and ceremony exemplified the best of the United Kingdom, helping to seal the Union and the survival of the Crown.
Scott spent his final years in financial difficulty, but he dedicated these last years to writing. In fact he became an industrious writer. In the last six years of his life he published six novels, two short stories, two plays and a journal. Scott’s assiduous attention to his art paid off, as shortly after his death the revenue from his books paid off all his debts. Although the greatest debt is his personal devotion to his country.
On the 30th July, 1818 the English writer and literary scion Emily Bronte was born. She was the fifth sibling in an illustrious and talented family, her elder sister Charlotte spoke of her as “a native and nursling of the moors”. The Brontes lived amidst the foreboding presence of the Yorkshire moorland, literally inhabiting a landscape that almost had human characteristics of its own.
This distinctive environment shaped the young Brontes. It was a major influence on their writing. A profound sense of time and place provided the inspiration for their most famous works. They were also the inheritors of a new literary sensibility which elevated the natural world to a semi-mythic status.
This is evident in Emily Bronte’s poetry, an all pervading feeling of awe and magic imbues her verse, as she expounds,
“Almighty ever-present Deity!
Life, that in me has rest
As I undying Life, have power in Thee!”
In contrast, another poem is much darker and fatalistic, as she laments,
“O for the time when I shall sleep
Without identity,
And never care how rain may steep
Or snow may cover me!”
Bronte was an unmistakable part of the wilderness of Yorkshire, and this native and wild spirit inspired the figure of Catherine Earnshaw, the main protagonist in her stark and Gothic novel “Wuthering Heights”.
Earnshaw’s short but eventful life is as fateful as the creatures that inhabit the heath. It is as tragic and as bleak as the surroundings suggest, to “wuther” means to “howl” or “eddy”. This landscape is open and bare, with black hollows and crags. Wind and rain are perennial features in this cold and forbidding location. It is a perfect place for ghosts to roam.
However it is her doomed romance with Heathcliff that ultimately seals her fate. Heathcliff, haunted by Cathy’s ghost, succumbs to death himself. Yet, as the novel concludes, the torment that afflicted these characters soon ends,
“I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.”
The protagonists, cursed by their mortal enemies have finally returned to the land that gave them life, and now preserves their memory for eternity.
Bronte herself had a short, tragic but eventful life. She died from tuberculosis aged just thirty. However her startling precious literary talents are her greatest legacy. It must be acknowledged that she owed a debt to the stunning Yorkshire landscape that breathed life into her work.
On the 30th June 1685 the English poet and dramatist John Gay was born. He was a renowned and celebrated satirist and a friend and contemporary of Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope. These writers were part of an artistic collective called the Scriblerus Club. The club was an informal gathering of esteemed literary figures dedicated to cultivating and expanding their craft through the mutual exchange of ideas.
The club shared similarities with other literary salons in continental Europe, where contentious theories of the day were debated at length in coffee houses. However, there was an important cultural distinction which differed from the affairs of the high-minded intelligentsia of Paris or Vienna, in that its primary purpose was to mock the earnestness and pomposity of the self-appointed intellectuals.
The English have always regarded intellectuals with suspicion, and sometimes with scorn. Continental Europeans, in contrast, have a tendency to place learned people on a pedestal, and would never even consider the prospect of questioning their reputation, let alone make fun of them. In England though, many suspected that there were individuals with affectations and pretensions, but in reality they had no real intellect or literary talent whatsoever.
While the greatest literary minds on the Continent collaborated to produce work of the utmost profundity, in London the atmosphere was infused with cunning and mischief. The Scriblerians were focused solely upon the art of satire. They invented a character who embodied the shallow cynicism of the eighteenth century intellectual, Martin Scriblerus, and named the club after him.
Scriblerus is insincere, dull and vapid. His entire personality is fake, designed chiefly to impress the publishing houses, and as a consequence will adopt any fashion or cause for his own gain. He even passes off other people’s work as his own, to acquire personal glory without putting in any thought or effort.
In the summer of 1716, Swift made a suggestion to Pope about writing a play set in Newgate prison. Gay was inspired by this suggestion, and the result was the tour de force, “The Beggar’s Opera”. This proved to be so influential that it spawned numerous imitations. It is widely considered to be a satire on the corrupting influences of the Whig administration, and the perceived tyranny and thievery of the leader, Sir Robert Walpole.
The character of Macheath, a devious highway robber, was modelled on Walpole. Audiences loved it, and recognised the allusions. The opera exposes the hypocritical nature of the rich and powerful, who frequently escape punishment while the poor and weak are always condemned for the same crimes.
It is timely to revisit this, as the current administration of the UK is being accused of enacting two-tier justice, and condemning the poor and weak to their fate. Humour is often the best weapon to attack such regimes. It is much more powerful to wield wit in self-defence, as it is clever and insidious in its methods and execution.
Ponderings 