Things That Happen In A Story: Genesis, the Odyssey, Dickens & Sherlock Holmes

 [NB. This piece is full of spoilers, so if you haven't read The Odyssey, Bleak House, The Hound of the Baskervilles, other Holmes stories, and prefer not to know what happens in them, you may want to delay reading this until you have read them.]

The story of how Jacob steals the blessing of their father Isaac from his older twin Esau is in Genesis ch. 27. Rebekah is Isaac's wife, and the mother of Esau and Jacob.

Genesis Chapter 27

1 And it came to pass, that when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his eldest son, and said unto him, My son: and he said unto him, Behold, here am I.

2 And he said, Behold now, I am old, I know not the day of my death:

3 Now therefore take, I pray thee, thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and take me some venison;

4 And make me savoury meat, such as I love, and bring it to me, that I may eat; that my soul may bless thee before I die.

5 And Rebekah heard when Isaac spake to Esau his son. And Esau went to the field to hunt for venison, and to bring it.

6 And Rebekah spake unto Jacob her son, saying, Behold, I heard thy father speak unto Esau thy brother, saying,

7 Bring me venison, and make me savoury meat, that I may eat, and bless thee before the LORD before my death.

8 Now therefore, my son, obey my voice according to that which I command thee.

9 Go now to the flock, and fetch me from thence two good kids of the goats; and I will make them savoury meat for thy father, such as he loveth:

10 And thou shalt bring it to thy father, that he may eat, and that he may bless thee before his death.

11 And Jacob said to Rebekah his mother, Behold, Esau my brother is a hairy man, and I am a smooth man:

12 My father peradventure will feel me, and I shall seem to him as a deceiver; and I shall bring a curse upon me, and not a blessing.

13 And his mother said unto him, Upon me be thy curse, my son: only obey my voice, and go fetch me them.

14 And he went, and fetched, and brought them to his mother: and his mother made savoury meat, such as his father loved.

15 And Rebekah took goodly raiment of her eldest son Esau, which were with her in the house, and put them upon Jacob her younger son:

16 And she put the skins of the kids of the goats upon his hands, and upon the smooth of his neck:

17 And she gave the savoury meat and the bread, which she had prepared, into the hand of her son Jacob.

18 And he came unto his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I; who art thou, my son?

19 And Jacob said unto his father, I am Esau thy firstborn; I have done according as thou badest me: arise, I pray thee, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me.

20 And Isaac said unto his son, How is it that thou hast found it so quickly, my son? And he said, Because the LORD thy God brought it to me.

21 And Isaac said unto Jacob, Come near, I pray thee, that I may feel thee, my son, whether thou be my very son Esau or not.

22 And Jacob went near unto Isaac his father; and he felt him, and said, The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.

23 And he discerned him not, because his hands were hairy, as his brother Esau's hands: so he blessed him.

24 And he said, Art thou my very son Esau? And he said, I am.

25 And he said, Bring it near to me, and I will eat of my son's venison, that my soul may bless thee. And he brought it near to him, and he did eat: and he brought him wine, and he drank.

26 And his father Isaac said unto him, Come near now, and kiss me, my son.

27 And he came near, and kissed him: and he smelled the smell of his raiment, and blessed him, and said, See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the LORD hath blessed:

28 Therefore God give thee of the dew of heaven, and the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine:

29 Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee: be lord over thy brethren, and let thy mother's sons bow down to thee: cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee.

30 And it came to pass, as soon as Isaac had made an end of blessing Jacob, and Jacob was yet scarce gone out from the presence of Isaac his father, that Esau his brother came in from his hunting.

31 And he also had made savoury meat, and brought it unto his father, and said unto his father, Let my father arise, and eat of his son's venison, that thy soul may bless me.

32 And Isaac his father said unto him, Who art thou? And he said, I am thy son, thy firstborn Esau.

33 And Isaac trembled very exceedingly, and said, Who? where is he that hath taken venison, and brought it me, and I have eaten of all before thou camest, and have blessed him? yea, and he shall be blessed.

34 And when Esau heard the words of his father, he cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his father, Bless me, even me also, O my father.

35 And he said, Thy brother came with subtilty, and hath taken away thy blessing.

36 And he said, Is not he rightly named Jacob? for he hath supplanted me these two times: he took away my birthright; and, behold, now he hath taken away my blessing. And he said, Hast thou not reserved a blessing for me?

37 And Isaac answered and said unto Esau, Behold, I have made him thy lord, and all his brethren have I given to him for servants; and with corn and wine have I sustained him: and what shall I do now unto thee, my son?

38 And Esau said unto his father, Hast thou but one blessing, my father? bless me, even me also, O my father. And Esau lifted up his voice, and wept.

39 And Isaac his father answered and said unto him, Behold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth, and of the dew of heaven from above;

40 And by thy sword shalt thou live, and shalt serve thy brother; and it shall come to pass when thou shalt have the dominion, that thou shalt break his yoke from off thy neck.

41 And Esau hated Jacob because of the blessing wherewith his father blessed him: and Esau said in his heart, The days of mourning for my father are at hand; then will I slay my brother Jacob.

42 And these words of Esau her elder son were told to Rebekah: and she sent and called Jacob her younger son, and said unto him, Behold, thy brother Esau, as touching thee, doth comfort himself, purposing to kill thee.

43 Now therefore, my son, obey my voice; and arise, flee thou to Laban my brother to Haran;

44 And tarry with him a few days, until thy brother's fury turn away;

45 Until thy brother's anger turn away from thee, and he forget that which thou hast done to him: then I will send, and fetch thee from thence: why should I be deprived also of you both in one day?

46 And Rebekah said to Isaac, I am weary of my life because of the daughters of Heth: if Jacob take a wife of the daughters of Heth, such as these which are of the daughters of the land, what good shall my life do me?

Depiction of Isaac blessing Jacob, mosaic from the Capella Palatina in Palermo, c.1160s

'Isaac Blessing Jacob' by Nicholas-Guy Brenet (lived 1728-1792)

'Isaac Blessing Jacob' by Govert Flinck, c.1638

 One of the things this story is about is family dynamics. As we have already been told in Genesis 25.28:

"And Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison: but Rebekah loved Jacob."

Another thing is that the story is a celebration of the successful use of cunning, both that of Rebekah and of Jacob, in which respect it resembles Puss in Boots by Perrault, which you can read here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29021/29021-h/29021-h.htm#The_Master_Cat_or_Puss_in_Boots

Charles Perrault (1628-1703) by Philippe Lallemand, 1672.

Illustration and opening of what I assume is an early edition of Perrault's book, but I can't find out any more about it. It says "The Master Cat, or, Puss in Boots - Story - A Miller left nothing more than he had to his three children, which was his Mill, his Ass & ...."

Illustration to Perrault by Gustave Doré, 1860s. Puss cries out that his Master is "drowning".

The same, coloured.

Puss meets the Ogre, by Gustave Doré.

Rebekah instigates the plan to deceive Isaac, and comes up with the refinements of dressing Jacob in Esau's clothes and especially wrapping Jacob's hands and neck in the skin of the kids of the goats to simulate Esau's hairiness. But Jacob is a more than willing participant in the scheme: notice his objection when Rebekah proposes it is not "I won't do this because it is wrong" but "Isaac might feel me to check it really is Esau, which test I would fail, this could backfire horribly". Jacob's attitude is that of a co-conspirator. Notice then how many ways in such a short account that Jacob actively misleads his father, v.18-24:

a) He claims to be Esau, and that he has brought the meal as Isaac asked him to.

b) To Isaac's natural curiosity as to how he caught the animal so quickly, Jacob replies that it was down to 'the Lord thy God'.

c) Isaac does ask to feel his son as Jacob had anticipated; the kids' hide takes care of that. Isaac is puzzled because he recognises Jacob's voice.

d) Isaac asks Jacob outright, "Are you really Esau ?", and Jacob says "I am".

The aspect I want to concentrate on in this story is Rebekah putting the skins of the kids of the goats on Jacob's hands and neck, which contributes crucially to Jacob successfully deceiving his father. Are we meant to believe this ? that Esau's hairiness was so like the kids' skin it would fool Isaac. What if Isaac felt Jacob's ankles ? We are not meant to believe that donning the kids' skin really happened or really succeeded, we are meant to accept it as a device that makes the story work. The point of the story is not its literal truth but, among other things, what it tells us about the relationships in this family, and how if you are clever about it sometimes you can use cunning and trickery to get what you want: which may seem odd lessons compared to what we would expect from a religious text, but on the other hand it's part of what makes these stories in Genesis so enduring. Jacob has already given evidence of his cunning by getting Esau to cede his birth right to him by making it the price of a meal when Esau was starving (Genesis 25.29-34), which Esau laments in v.36 above.

I want to further illustrate this point about things that we accept to make the story work with two incidents close together in the Odyssey. These are from book 9 where Odysseus describes the adventures of himself and his crew in the cave of Polyphemus the Cyclops. The two incidents are Odysseus fooling Polyphemus by telling him his name is Nobody, and him and the crew escaping by clinging to the underside of rams. It is interesting to note that when Odysseus and his crew first enter Polyphemus' cave, the Cyclops is away, and his companions quite reasonably urge Odysseus to steal the cheeses, come back and steal the lambs and the kids, then get away while they can. But Odysseus determines they will await the Cyclops' return (Bk.9, 252-9). If he did not, there wouldn't be the subsequent story. This is motivated by Odysseus wanting to see what guest gifts he will get from the Cyclops, and perhaps an inference we can draw that Odysseus does not realise until it happens that Polyphemus will block the cave entrance with a massive stone and trap them, or how savage he is. The guest gift motive is quite a flimsy one in my opinion – however the flimsiness of the motive doesn’t matter because it is not interesting, noticed or remembered: I wouldn't have seen it if I wasn't looking really hard; the listener or reader doesn’t care; what is interesting is our hero and the crew trapped in the cave, what perils they face in there and how do they get out.

When Odysseus gives Polyphemus the wine he has brought with him, the Cyclops asks him what his name is, Odysseus tells him his name is Nobody (Bk.9, 410). This sets up the incident where, after Odysseus & the crew have blinded him, he roars out for help from his fellow Cyclops. They do come, but when Polyphemus tells them that Nobody has attacked him, they take it that he is alone and leave (455-463). This is an example of Odysseus' cunning, and is also a moment of humour in this frightening story. At one level it's absurd and improbable that Polyphemus would believe his name is Nobody, but then why am I talking about absurdities or improbabilities if I've already accepted the existence of a one-eyed giant ? 

The dilemma Odysseus is faced with in the cave is that they can't just kill the Cyclops, because the massive stone will still be in place at the entrance, they can't move it and they will still be trapped. When the other Cyclops leave, Polyphemus moves the stone and sits at the entrance, intending to catch the men as he thinks they will try to leave along with the sheep (463-7). Odysseus' solution to this is to take the willow-twigs which Polyphemus slept on and tie the rams together three at a time; each man is then tied on to the underside of the middle ram, thus escaping detection. Odysseus ties himself on to the underside of the bellwether ram, the biggest one. At dawn the rams go out to pasture, and Polyphemus feels the back of each one, but he doesn't detect the men underneath. The bellwether goes last, and there is a long moment of tension as the Cyclops detains it and wonders why the animal which would usually be first is last this time, but eventually he lets it go and so they all escape (474-518). Is any of this probable ? Who cares ? - we accept it in order to enjoy the story.

Odysseus tied under the ram. Attic black-figure krater, attributed to the Sappho painter, c. 510-500 BCE. From the Badisches Landesmuseum, Germany.

Odysseus tied under the ram with Polyphemus feeling it. Attic black-figure krater, c. 510-500 BCE. From the Carlos Museum, Atlanta, Georgia.

Odysseus tied under the ram. c.550-500 BCE. From the Getty Villa, California.

Odysseus clinging on to the ram. I believe it is a Roman copy of a Greek original but I have not been able to find out any more about it. Torlonia collection, Rome.

'Odysseus and Polyphemus' by Arnold Böcklin (1896). I think this depicts Polyphemus hurling the second rock at Odysseus and his crew as they row away. Odysseus meanwhile is recklessly taunting the Cyclops.

In 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', are we expected to believe that a man can be dragged behind a speeding truck, gradually work his way back to the truck while being dragged, work his way underneath it, climb up the front, biff the driver, throw him out of the truck and replace him ? Not at all. It is a case of Coleridge's famous suspension of disbelief as the term is generally used today; it is like being in on a joke. There is an exchange going on between the storyteller and the audience or audience member: you the audience suspend part of your disbelief on my behalf, and I will tell you an interesting and enjoyable story.

It is like watching a stage magician. You know that the magic is a trick, but you mentally halt your enquiry into how it is done at a certain point in order to enjoy the trick, as opposed to explain it. (A trainee or practitioner will want and need to have the how of the trick demonstrated and explained.) Knowing it is a trick is part of enjoying it. If one thought the magician was actually doing the magic in reality, and he was representing himself as really doing it, they would be like miracles not tricks, he would be a wonder worker: the reaction he would expect and receive would be quite different; he would be Apollonius of Tyana as opposed to Georges Méliès. 

I want to further illustrate this point about suspension of disbelief by referring to Dicken's 'Bleak House'. (It is interesting to note here that as is well known, Dickens was an extremely accomplished amateur magician.) I do not say the following as a negative criticism, merely an observation. There is a fundamental unlikelihood in 'Bleak House' which the reader simply has to accept. It is this:

Guppy in chapter 7 is immediately struck by the likeness between Lady Dedlock's portrait and Esther, this sets him off trying to find the connection, as he tells Lady Dedlock herself in ch.29 -

"'I am not aware, says Mr Guppy,' standing midway between my Lady and his chair, 'whether your ladyship ever happened to hear of, or to see, a young lady of the name of Miss Esther Summerson.'

My Lady's eyes look at him full. 'I saw a young lady of that name not long ago. This past autumn.'

'Now, did it strike your ladyship that she was like anybody?' asks Mr Guppy, crossing his arms, holding his head on one side, and scratching the corner of his mouth with his memoranda.

My Lady removes her eyes from him no more.

'No.'

'Not like your ladyship's family?'

'No.'

'I think your ladyship,' says Mr Guppy, 'can hardly remember Miss Summerson's face?'

'I remember the young lady very well. What has this to do with me?'

'Your ladyship, I do assure you, that having Miss Summerson's image imprinted on my art - which I mention in confidence - I found, when I had the honour of going over your ladyship's mansion of Chesney Wold, while on a short out in the county of Lincolnshire with a friend, such a resemblance between Miss Esther Summerson and your ladyship's own portrait, that it completely knocked me over; so much so, that I didn't at the moment even know what it was that knocked me over. And now I have the honour of beholding your ladyship near, (I have often, since that, taken the liberty of looking at your ladyship in your carriage in the park, when I dare say you was not aware of me, but I never saw your ladyship so near), it's really more surprising than I thought it.'"

- whereas John Jarndyce, who sees Esther constantly and as we discover in chapter 18 knew Lady Dedlock and her sister when they were younger, never notices the similarity. (I give chapters as references because different editions of 'Bleak House' will have different page numbers.) This point is insisted upon in the story. When in ch. 36 Lady Dedlock reveals herself to Esther in the wood at Chesney Wold, Esther raises the possibility of confiding the secret in John Jarndyce, they have the following exchange: 

"'Mr Jarndyce -' I was beginning, when my mother hurriedly inquired:

'Does he suspect?'

'No,' said I. 'No, indeed! Be assured that he does not !'"

When Esther tells John Jarndyce that Lady Dedlock is her mother at the end of ch.43, he is absolutely surprised. He has never noticed, guessed, wondered, or suspected. As he says near the start of the conversation where Esther reveals the fact:

"He [John Jarndyce] looked unprepared for my being so earnest, and even a little alarmed.

'Or how anxious I have been to speak to you,' said I, 'ever since the visitor was here to-day.'

'The visitor, my dear! Sir Leicester Dedlock?'

'Yes.'

He folded his arms, and sat looking at me with an air of the profoundest astonishment, awaiting what I should say next. I did not know how to prepare him.

'Why, Esther,' said he, breaking into a smile, 'our visitor and you are the two last persons on earth I should have thought of connecting together!'"

None of the people in church in Chesney Wold with both Esther and Lady Dedlock there in ch. 18 and 23 notice any resemblance, except Lady Dedlock herself who is struck by Esther the first time she sees her in the church at Chesney Wold, to the extent of thinking if she had a daughter, Esther is what she would look like, as she reveals in ch.36, and possibly Hortense, though this is never definitely established.

'The Little Church in the Park', original illustration to 'Bleak House' ch.18 by Phiz (Hablot Knight Browne), 1852

Various other characters recognise the resemblance b/t Esther and Lady Dedlock in various ways. Trooper George recognises some resemblance of some sort in Esther and he would have known Lady Dedlock when she was Captain Hawdon’s lover (ch.24), but whether he ever exactly places the resemblance we are not told. I think we can infer from the whole text he does not. Jo recognises the resemblance in the sense that when he is ill in St Albans and Esther comes to see him veiled, he thinks it is like the woman who asked him to see Nemo’s haunts and burying ground, i.e. Lady Dedlock, although he does not know that veiled woman was her (ch.31).

'Consecrated Ground' by Phiz, illustration to ch.16. Jo the crossing sweeper is showing where Nemo is buried to Lady Dedlock in disguise.

Ada and Lawrence Boythorn are in a position to see the resemblance, but do not.

The solution to this riddle is that those people who this story requires to recognise the resemblance between Esther and Lady Dedlock do so, in the way that the story requires; and the people who the story requires to not recognise that resemblance, do not do so.

Apart from the hint we are given that John Jarndyce can be obtuse, when he does not realise how far Richard & Ada’s love has progressed until Esther tells him in ch.13, no explanation for Jarndyce’s inability to connect Esther and Lady Dedlock is ever given. How could it be ? since whatever it was, it wouldn’t do. One simply has to accept it as a requirement of the story as it is. If John Jarndyce knew or suspected or hoped that there was some connection between Esther and Lady Dedlock, his motives with regard to her would be different, and hence we’d have a different story.

'Attorney and Client, fortitude and impatience' by Phiz, illustration to ch.39. Mr Vholes and Richard Carstone in Vholes' office.

One of the motifs in 'Bleak House', as it often is in Dickens, is references to what we might broadly call children's literature i.e. fairy tales, nursery rhymes and the Arabian Nights. As a curiosity, there is in fact a reference to 'Puss in Boots' in 'Bleak House': Esther and Ada tell it to the Jellyby children during their night staying at the Jellyby's (ch.4) -

"Mrs Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffee all the evening and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter. She also held a discussion with Mr Quale; of which the subject seemed to be - if I understood it - the brotherhood of humanity; and gave utterance to some beautiful sentiments. I was not so attentive an auditor as I might have wished to be, however, for Peepy and the other children came flocking about Ada and me in a corner of the drawing-room to ask for another story; so we sat down among them, and told them in whispers Puss in Boots and I don't know what else, until Mrs Jellyby, accidentally remembering them, sent them to bed."

The final story I want to illustrate this thesis about suspending one's incredulity with is 'The Speckled Band', a Sherlock Holmes story by Arthur Conan Doyle. First though I want to point out that I am sure Doyle found some of the seeds of 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' in 'Bleak House', especially in ch.7. In Guppy's recognising Esther in the portrait of Lady Dedlock, we have the original of Holmes recognising Stapleton in the portrait of Sir Hugo Baskerville ('Baskervilles' ch.13). (I may say here that it is much more probable Holmes alone seeing the likeness between Stapleton & Sir Hugo's portrait, than it is in 'Bleak House' that Guppy alone sees the similarity between Esther and Lady Dedlock.) In both ch.7 of 'Bleak House' with the story of the Ghost's Walk and in ch.2 of 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' you have the origin story of a family curse set during the Civil War. I believe the detail in the story of the Ghost's Walk of that Lady Dedlock stealing down more than once in the night to lame the horses provided Doyle a seed for 'Silver Blaze', which is set on Dartmoor as is 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'. More tenuously, I wonder if Mr Bucket having the piece of water dragged in ch.54, suggested the basic idea of 'The Problem of Thor Bridge' to Doyle.

Cover of the first edition, 1902.

A final link between 'Baskervilles' and 'Bleak House' is that Mr. Frankland's obsession in the former with taking legal action over rights of way is surely inspired by Lawrence Boythorn's conflict with Sir Leicester over that.

"One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the south of us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. His passion is for the British law, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting and is equally ready to take up either side of a question, so that it is no wonder that he has found it a costly amusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy the parish to make him open it. At others he will with his own hands tear down some other man's gate and declare that a path has existed there from time immemorial, defying the owner to prosecute him for trespass. He is learned in old manorial and communal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of Fernworthy and sometimes against them, so that he is periodically either carried in triumph down the village street or else burned in effigy, according to his latest exploit."

- 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', ch.8

Helen Stoner comes to see Holmes and Watson at the beginning of 'The Speckled Band', original illustration by Sidney Paget, 1892.

Rosalyn Landor as Helen Stoner and Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes, 1984.

Dr Roylott bursts in to confront Holmes and Watson, by Sidney Paget.

Holmes lashes the swap adder.

Dr Roylott found dead.

'The Speckled Band' was often cited by Arthur Conan Doyle as one of his own favourite Sherlock Holmes stories. It is a notable example of a locked-room mystery, like Edgar Allan Poe's 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' (Poe was a major inspiration for Doyle). I wonder if he liked at as a specimen of craftsmanship, since it is particularly coherent. I wonder if another reason he liked it is that he persuades the reader to accept things which he has simply made up i.e. that a snake (and the Indian swamp adder is not a real snake) can be trained to return to its handler at the signal of a whistle, with the encouragement of a dish of milk. All of these things are complete nonsense, pure invention on Doyle's part, the magicianship of storytelling.

I want in ending to make a plea for us not to condescend to good storytelling. A good story, well told is not necessarily and always meretricious, secondary and lesser.

Why, if having read them once and therefore knowing what happens, do we return to these stories with pleasure ? Why do we watch or listen to more than one adaptation ? This proves that it cannot simply be wanting to know the outcome that we read or experience these stories. One reason is that they are a good story, well told - and there is a satisfaction in that.

My proposition here is not a reactionary one. I am not saying that a good story in the immediate sense is the only story worth reading or writing. I am emphatically not defending some restrictive, scared, defensive idea of the Western canon. In fact the opposite, I would wish to free the Odyssey and Dickens particularly from the burden of being canonical texts in so far as this is possible, and for us to experience them as stories like any other. Because that is a way to experience their power directly. Similarly, my point about the Biblical story from Genesis which I start with is it's a story like any other, it obeys the mechanics and techniques of a story.

I am saying that we should not condemn good storytelling as naive, or consume it furtively as if there were something shameful about it, or make a big deal about it as if trying to brazen it out, or make it a simplified badge of your identity as is so common in making our avatar for the information age we live in now. There is nothing shameful about enjoying master craftspeople at work, or what they produce. It is not intellectually slumming it, or descending to relax. There is nothing to apologise for or even to think about apologising for, there is nothing to be defensive about. Defensive against who ? Why ?

There is no need to be intimidated by unquestioned inherited or prevalent aesthetic preferences. Make your own aesthetic preferences and categories based on your own experience. If someone else disapproves of my aesthetic preferences, that's their problem, not mine. You can condemn my taste, but the thing you cannot call it at this point is naive.

There are reasons, apart from cultural prestige, that the Odyssey has lasted as long as it has, more than 2 500 years. There are reasons new generations of readers discover it, new audiences want to experience it, that storytellers continue to retell it: just as the canonical version we have today is the result of innumerable bards retelling it and refining it, taking elements from other stories e.g. the visit to the land of the dead from 'Gilgamesh', and combining them. It's because the Odyssey is a fundamental story of a man trying to get home after a war - which unfortunately has remained relevant from then to now - just like for instance like Primo Levi describes in 'The Truce'.

I'm not arguing for a version of socialist realism here. I'm not saying that writing and art generally has to be straightforwardly mimetic otherwise it's useless or offensive. (Technically speaking, Dickens' writing is not straightforwardly mimetic anyway, and some critics attack, dismiss or underestimate him for it.) Experimental and avant-garde writing has its place in the spectrum of possibilities for both writer and reader, but it is not a superior place automatically by dint of its being experimental. It is not a higher art, it is just another kind of art.

Puss in Boots taking rabbits to the King, illustration by John Hassall.

ADDENDA, 3.2.26: 

1. It only occurred to me after writing this that the beginning of the story of Jacob stealing Esau's blessing contains a classic storytelling device, which is - if Isaac wanted to bless Esau, why didn't he just do it ? rather than sending him out to hunt, which gives Rebekah and Jacob the chance to intervene. This is comparable to when if Goldfinger wants to get rid of Bond, why doesn't he just shoot him ? rather than putting him in a situation he can escape from. Answer: because otherwise you would have no story. This with the proviso that the anonymous writer and the anonymous compiler of this episode in Genesis may have understood the ritual of the blessing to involve the person to be blessed doing a task beforehand: as clearly the writer and the compiler understood that a blessing once given could got not be revoked. If it could have been revoked, there is no point in Jacob trying to steal it, and no problem for Esau.

2. On the topic of socialist realism, I want to quote this brilliant passage by Bourdieu:

"For example, what is called socialist realism is in fact that typical product of the individual 'I' of the political delegates, of the Zhdanovian 'I' to call it by its real name, in other words, the second-rate petit-bourgeois intellectual who wants to impose order, especially on first-rate intellectuals, and who universalizes himself by setting himself up as the people. And an elementary analysis of socialist realism would show that there is nothing popular in what is in reality a formalism or even an academicism, based on a highly abstract allegorical iconography, 'the Worker', etc. (even if this art seems to satisfy, very superficially, the popular demand for realism). What is expressed in this formalist and petit-bourgeois art - which, far from expressing the people, involves rather a negation of the people, in the form of that naked-torsoed, muscular, sun-tanned, optimistic people turned toward the future, etc. - is the social philosophy and the unconscious ideal of a petite bourgeoisie of party men who betray their real fear of the real people by identifying themselves with an idealized people, torches aloft, the living flame of Humanity . . . The same could be demonstrated of popular culture, etc. What we are dealing with are typical cases of subject substitution. The priesthood - and this is what Nietzsche was getting at - the priest, the Church, the apparatchik of every country substitutes his own vision of the world (a vision deformed by his own libido dominandi) for that of the group of which he is supposedly the expression. The 'people' is used these days just as in other times God was used - to settle accounts between clerics."

- Pierre Bourdieu, 'Delegation and Political Fetishism' in 'Language and Symbolic Power', trans. Gino Raymond and Matthew Adamson, Polity Press, 1991 - Bourdieu's original, 1982. This quote is complete as the translators translated it: the italics, the ellipsis, the etc.s are Bourdieu's.

I would add to this what B partly hints at with his remark above about popular culture, that just as totalitarian governments had their visual and other propaganda which was full of lies and deliberate misrepresentations to inspire particular states of mind and behaviour, so does the ubiquitous advertising in our freer societies. We are surrounded and indoctrinated with tendentious gibberish in our own way. You may say - what relevance does this have to the piece above ? Advertisers are telling you a story, and using storytelling techniques among others to do it. They're trying to get us to believe in a substitute reality, one that suits them and their purposes, rather than the actual reality of our direct experience. How much did your or anyone else's Christmas resemble that fantasy portrayed in the ads - which are to get you to buy things - and does that difference make you a lesser person ? Clearly not.

William Etty, Odysseus, the Sirens and Circe

 

Photos of Etty's statue & tomb by the Author

This is the statue of William Etty, a painter who was born in York outside the Art Gallery in that city.

"William Etty R.A. Born in York 1787. Elected Royal Academician 1828. Died 1849."

You can see he's in a rather decayed condition unfortunately because he stands next to a main road through the city, and is subject to constant exhaust fumes from the traffic.

This is Etty's tomb, seen from the Museum Gardens. The tomb is actually in St. Olave's churchyard, which is behind the wall. A hole had been knocked through the wall of the ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, to give this dramatic effect of a Romantic or Gothic tomb (Etty is the contemporary of Coleridge and Wordsworth, for instance.)

Lucy Evans first got me to look seriously at William Etty's work. In 1837, Etty painted 'The Sirens and Ulysses', which is now in the Manchester Art Gallery.

I've never actually seen the original. Something to bear in mind about this painting is that it is huge. It's about 4.5m wide and 3m high. An aspect of this work which I like is its directness. To signify 'corpse', Etty does not portray something which decorously indicates 'corpse', but paints a corpse. Likewise with the voluptuous women representing the Sirens.

The incident of Ulysses, or Odysseus to give him his Greek name, and the Sirens comes from The Odyssey Book 12. Odysseus and his crew have returned from visiting the Land of the Dead to the island of Aeaea, where the sorceress Circe lives. They had gone to the Land of the Dead on Circe's advice and instructions to consult the shade of the seer Tiresias about how to get home to Ithaca. Now they are back, Circe gives them a feast. Afterwards she takes Odysseus aside and gives him advice about his voyage to come:

"But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away
from all my shipmates there and sat me down
and lying beside me probed me for details.
I told her the whole story, start to finish,
then the queenly goddess laid my course:
‘Your descent to the dead is over, true,
but listen closely to what I tell you now
and god himself will bring it back to mind.
First you will raise the island of the Sirens,
those creatures who spellbind any man alive,
whoever comes their way. Whoever draws too close,
off guard, and catches the Sirens’ voices in the air—
no sailing home for him, no wife rising to meet him,
no happy children beaming up at their father’s face.
The high, thrilling song of the Sirens will transfix him,
lolling there in their meadow, round them heaps of corpses,
rotting away, rags of skin shrivelling on their bones ...
Race straight past that coast! Soften some beeswax
and stop your shipmates’ ears so none can hear,
none of the crew, but if you are bent on hearing,
have them tie you hand and foot in the swift ship,
erect at the mast-block, lashed by ropes to the mast
so you can hear the Sirens’ song to your heart’s content.
But if you plead, commanding your men to set you free,
then they must lash you faster, rope on rope.'"

- 'Odyssey' Bk.12, 31-60. trans. Robert Fagles

The next day they do set sail, and this is what happens:

"At those words Dawn rose on her golden throne
and lustrous Circe made her way back up the island.
I went straight to my ship, commanding all hands
to take to the decks and cast off cables quickly.
They swung aboard at once, they sat to the oars in ranks
and in rhythm churned the water white with stroke on stroke.
And Circe the nymph with glossy braids, the awesome one
who speaks with human voice, sent us a hardy shipmate,
yes, a fresh following wind ruffling up in our wake,
bellying out our sail to drive our blue prow on as we,
securing the running gear from stem to stern, sat back
while the wind and helmsman kept her true on course.
At last, and sore at heart, I told my shipmates,
‘Friends ... it’s wrong for only one or two
to know the revelations that lovely Circe
made to me alone. I’ll tell you all,
so we can die with our eyes wide open now
or escape our fate and certain death together.
First, she warns, we must steer clear of the Sirens,
their enchanting song, their meadow starred with flowers.
I alone was to hear their voices, so she said,
but you must bind me with tight chafing ropes
so I cannot move a muscle, bound to the spot,
erect at the mast-block, lashed by ropes to the mast.
And if I plead, commanding you to set me free,
then lash me faster, rope on pressing rope.’
So I informed my shipmates point by point,
all the while our trim ship was speeding toward
the Sirens’ island, driven on by the brisk wind.
But then—the wind fell in an instant,
all glazed to a dead calm ...
a mysterious power hushed the heaving swells.
The oarsmen leapt to their feet, struck the sail,
stowed it deep in the hold and sat to the oarlocks,
thrashing with polished oars, frothing the water white.
Now with a sharp sword I sliced an ample wheel of beeswax
down into pieces, kneaded them in my two strong hands
and the wax soon grew soft, worked by my strength
and Helios’ burning rays, the sun at high noon,
and I stopped the ears of my comrades one by one.
They bound me hand and foot in the tight ship—
erect at the mast-block, lashed by ropes to the mast—
and rowed and churned the whitecaps stroke on stroke.
We were just offshore as far as a man’s shout can carry,
scudding close, when the Sirens sensed at once a ship
was racing past and burst into their high, thrilling song:
‘Come closer, famous Odysseus—Achaea’s pride and glory—
moor your ship on our coast so you can hear our song!
Never has any sailor passed our shores in his black craft
until he has heard the honeyed voices pouring from our lips,
and once he hears to his heart’s content sails on, a wiser man.
We know all the pains that Achaeans and Trojans once endured
on the spreading plain of Troy when the gods willed it so—
all that comes to pass on the fertile earth, we know it all!’
So they sent their ravishing voices out across the air
and the heart inside me throbbed to listen longer.
I signaled the crew with frowns to set me free—
they flung themselves at the oars and rowed on harder,
Perimedes and Eurylochus springing up at once
to bind me faster with rope on chafing rope.
But once we’d left the Sirens fading in our wake,
once we could hear their song no more, their urgent call—
my steadfast crew was quick to remove the wax I’d used
to seal their ears and loosed the bonds that lashed me."

- ibid. 154-217.

A point to note here is that sailors are overcome by the song of the Sirens because they encounter it without warning. Odysseus survives because he is forewarned by Circe.
There are two brilliant versions of this motif subsequent to Etty's.
One is 'Ulysses and the Sirens' by Herbert James Draper (1909).

I wonder if Draper based his depiction of Ulysses on the head of Ulysses from the Polyphemus Group of the Sperlonga sculptures, which are contemporary with the emperor Tiberius.

Photo by Carole Raddato

Then there is John William Waterhouse's 'Ulysses and the Sirens' from 1891.

This seems to have been based on the Siren Vase in the British Museum (c.480-470 BCE).

Here is another shot of the design.

Here is another depiction of this motif on ancient pottery. This is by the painter Python, made c.330 BCE, found in Paestum in southern Italy, currently in the Antikensammlung in Berlin.

Photo by Marcus Cyron

Another example from Greek pottery. These are two shots of a lekythos from the late C.6th, found in Eretria in Euboea in Greece, now in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens.

Photo by Marsyas

Photo by Zde

Following are two depictions from reliefs of Odysseus tied to the mast.

Etruscan urn relief depicting Ulysses and Sirens, from Volterra, Pisa Province, Italy, C.4th BCE

Terracotta relief, C.1st CE - apparently in the Louvre although I have been unable to confirm this.

The motif in mosaic, from Dougga, C.2nd CE, Bardo National Museum, Tunis.

Photo by Carole Raddato

To see how this motif has been depicted in film, we can look at 'Ulysses' (1954), starring Kirk Douglas, Anthony Quinn and Silvana Mangano. Here is a production still with Kirk Douglas as Ulysses, tied to the mast.

It's interesting to me that one of the posters for the film references Ulysses tied to the mast, it suggests that it was a well-known image, or the producers considered it such.

Earlier in the Odyssey, in Book 10, when Odysseus and his crew first arrive on Circe's island Aeaea, and after Odysseus has done some reconnoitring and caught a stag for them to eat, he sends off part of his crew under Eurylochus to investigate Circe's palace. They are puzzled because they encounter mountain wolves and lions roaming around the palace, but instead of being ferocious they are tame. When they come to the palace itself, Circe invites them in and they all go except Eurylochus, who senses a trap. Circe gives the men a drink which they don't know is drugged, and then she strikes them with her wand and turns them all into pigs. Eurylochus reports this disaster back to Odysseus, who determines to go to Circe's palace himself to see what he can do about it. On the way, he meets Hermes:

"Leaving the ship and shore, I headed inland,
clambering up through hushed, entrancing glades until,
as I was nearing the halls of Circe skilled in spells,
approaching her palace—Hermes god of the golden wand
crossed my path, and he looked for all the world
like a young man sporting his first beard,
just in the prime and warm pride of youth,
and grasped me by the hand and asked me kindly,
‘Where are you going now, my unlucky friend—
trekking over the hills alone in unfamiliar country?
And your men are all in there, in Circe’s palace,
cooped like swine, hock by jowl in the sties.
Have you come to set them free?
Well, I warn you, you won’t get home yourself,
you’ll stay right there, trapped with all the rest.
But wait, I can save you, free you from that great danger.
Look, here is a potent drug. Take it to Circe’s halls—
its power alone will shield you from the fatal day.
Let me tell you of all the witch’s subtle craft ...
She’ll mix you a potion, lace the brew with drugs
but she’ll be powerless to bewitch you, even so—
this magic herb I give will fight her spells.
Now here’s your plan of action, step by step.
The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand,
you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip
and rush her fast as if to run her through!
She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed—
but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if
she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself.
But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods
she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you,
once you lie there naked—
never unman you, strip away your courage!’
With that
the giant-killer handed over the magic herb,
pulling it from the earth,
and Hermes showed me all its name and nature.
Its root is black and its flower white as milk
and the gods call it moly. Dangerous for a mortal man
to pluck from the soil but not for deathless gods.
All lies within their power."

- ibid. Bk. 10, 302-340.

It all turns out as Hermes advises, and we can see the moment of Odysseus rushing at Circe with his drawn sword depicted on the following vases. First -

c.450 BCE, found in Nola, southern Italy, from the Louvre

Here are close-ups of the figures.

You can see Circe is carrying her cup and wand.

The upper row of this vase show the same moment.

c.440 BCE, from the Met, New York

A close-up. You can see Circe has dropped her cup and wand. Behind Odysseus are two of his crew men gesturing to be set free, one of whom has been changed to have a pig's head and tail, the other those of a horse or mule.

There is a depiction of Circe offering her cup to Odysseus on this vase. Behind her is a man who has an animal's head and tail.

c. 490 BCE, found in Eretria, now in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. Phot by Marsyas.

Here is Silvana Mangano as Circe in the 1954 film (she plays Penelope as well.)

Before we leave Greek vases, I want to show you one of Odysseus at sea on a raft of amphoras, being blown by Boreas, the god of the north wind. I love the naivety of the depiction of Boreas.

C.4th BCE, Ashmolean Museum. Photo by Carole Raddato.

The theme of Circe was one that John William Waterhouse returned to repeatedly. Here is 'Circe Offering the Cup to Ulysses' from 1891.

Here is 'Circe Invidiosa' from 1892. This is not a reference to the Odyssey, but to Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book 14.

 

 

Finally, here is 'The Sorceress' from c.1911-1915.

You can find a gallery of Greek Art featuring Odysseus here, and links to the photographers credited above: Category:Odysseus in ancient Greek pottery - Wikimedia Commons

The mighty and indefatigable Carole Raddato, whose photos appear several times in this piece, has a blog called Following Hadrian: FOLLOWING HADRIANI came, I saw, I photographed... follow me in the footsteps of Hadrian! . You can find many more of her photographs on that blog, and also on Flickr.

Do 'Great Men' Drive History ?

1. In November 2022, I was reading The 18^th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte and the following famous sentence from near the beginning struck me forcefully:

 

"Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past."

 

You may say - so what ? That's blindingly obvious. But, having thought about the process of History through many specific historical sequences of events over the years, the endless controversy over whether history is primarily driven by 1) Great Individuals or primarily by 2) underlying technological, economic, ideological and social forces, bothered me. Because of course, it's a blend of both. I think a lot of modern historians incline to the second view, because the first view held sway for so long, but also because they are frightened of seeming naive, or of being regarded as power-worshippers. Conversely, some historians such as Andrew Roberts proudly incline to the first view, partly because they genuinely believe it, & partly because they take an impish delight in being deliberately old-fashioned & going against the current trend. Whereas, as I have said, it becomes obvious when you study history that it is a blend of both. I could illustrate this endlessly.

'Bonaparte, First Consul' by Antoine-Jean Gros, 1802

 

Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour

Otto von Bismarck

One example: what if there had been no Napoleon ? What course would the French Revolution have taken ? Without Napoleon's campaigns and conquests, would German unification or Italian unification have happened in the way that they did ? or happened at all ? Possibly not. The implications of either are staggering. The underlying technological, economic, ideological and social forces enabled Napoleon, but he focussed them and pointed them in a certain direction which had specific consequences, and not other potential consequences which could have happened. History is a constant series of potential branches: one is actually taken, which rules out/nullifies the other possibilities, and generates a new set of possible branches; one of those is taken, and so on ad infinitum. This process operates in the lives of all individuals as well. All the acts and decisions of everyone interact constantly. That makes up the sum total of the world. That is what history is made of. 

 

You can see that in trying to explain my observation that the historical process is a blend of both the will of great individuals and underlying social forces, I'm having to go somewhat around the houses. That is what is so exciting to me about Marx' dictum, quoted above. It is a succinct, elegant and unanswerable distillation of the point I'm trying to make. In other words, this issue is now

 

and there is no need to reinvent the wheel, and no point in trying*. The wheel has been invented, it's a perfectly good wheel, and works very well. This is one great advantage of having a culture. Certain controversies have actually been solved. If anyone ever raises the debate to me, or I read the issue being questioned - is it great individuals or the ineluctable underlying forces that drive history ? - all I have to do is point them at The 18^th Brumaire of Louis Napoleon. (written 22.11.2022)

2. Barbara Cottman once asked me "Do you see history as linear or circular ?" These are my thoughts on that subject.

Evidently it depends what you mean by the terms 'linear' and 'circular'. What I think you mean is: 'linear' means political and economic progress in their broadest sense is inevitable and always advancing overall despite setbacks; 'circular' means we take two steps forward and one back, or two steps forward and two back, or even two steps forward and three back.

History is linear in the sense that time advances irretrievably, there is no going back, one thing happens after another. It is not linear in the sense that progress overall is inevitable. Nor is regression inevitable. Nothing is inevitable except our individual death, pace Benjamin Franklin. History does not have intention, or any inner purpose. It is not heading anywhere. History in the sense of a thing that has intention does not exist, and anyone who thinks it does exist in that sense is in my opinion mistaking metaphors, figures of speech and mental shortcuts for reality: which is a very common error. Speaking technically, history is not teleological. There are many teleological accounts of how history works, where it is heading. For instance, fundamental to Christianity is a claim about the nature of history: that there is an inevitable progression from Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, the Fall; to the possibility of redemption provided by Christ's death and resurrection; closing inevitably with the Last Judgement. Marx regards the victory of the proletariat in the class struggle as inevitable. Other commentators have regarded the expansion and ultimate triumph of liberal democracy as inevitable. The attraction of such accounts is clear: they give the individual structure, purpose and comfort. However they are in my view illusions.

Which is not to say that there is no such thing as progress. There is progress, but it is neither inevitable nor irreversible. (Written 13.3.2023).

 

*Of course the issue is not solved, nor ever can be, and of course this is an absurdly cursory treatment of it. I propose to look at this issue in much greater detail by examining the extreme positions on either side: first with a critique of Carlyle's 'On Heroes'; then with a critique of Tolstoy's views on history at the end of 'War and Peace'. Stay tuned.