“Nilay’s dissertation demonstrated an excellent breadth of reading and a confident grasp of the historical and social issues. It made great use of the Gothic as a cultural lens, using it to explore the changing nature of urban anxieties in Victorian London. Based upon an impressive range of primary evidence, Nilay developed a compelling argument for the ways in which Gothic ideas and images crossed over from sensationalist fiction to inform Victorian social investigation. His analysis of the anxieties surrounding Victorian prostitution was particularly rich and sophisticated.” – Dr Karl Bell, Nilay’s dissertation supervisor.
I became interested in researching the Gothic and its links to Victorian Britain from a natural curiosity for the macabre and the fantastic in a historical context. This prompted me to explore this topic and choose it as the basis of my dissertation alongside the fact that I had not expected historians to be so interested in these literary forms. Thus, I began preparing and writing my dissertation under the idea that I could add to what I saw as a relatively new discourse. Naturally I had to discover an angle to tackle the Gothic, and from my research it became apparent that Victorian London had been discussed alongside the genre significantly.
From this I lay the foundation of labelling London as a Gothic City. This idea of London as a capital encompassing everything Gothic, encouraged me to seek out Gothic novels where the city played a significant part, and was described in unnerving ways. I felt that these fictional commentaries on London would present an intriguing counterpart to the non-fictional commentaries of contemporaneous social investigations, and indeed the similar portrayals of the metropolis that I identified promoted me to posit whether there a was blurring of fiction/fantasy and reality.
It is important to note that my thoughts concerning this blurring as well as the idea of a Gothic London significantly evolved. Whilst initially thinking about fantasy and reality just as a case between the supernatural and the natural, it was clear that it was so much more multifaceted than this, as mentioned previously it entailed critiquing the relationship between the fictional novels and non-fiction. The research I conducted highlighted that they equally constituted ‘Gothic texts’. By the end of my research works like Oliver Twist and The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde read like social investigation reports, and social investigations, like Gothic texts. This arose by focusing on specific themes to base my own argument as to why London was Gothic. These included analysing representations of Cholera, contemporary criticisms of the economy, bodysnatching, prostitution, and urbanisation amongst others. Positing London as Gothic was therefore more about understanding the context of the city and what was happening, alongside its fictional representation, instead of just one or the other. It came to be a process of trying to understand the mind-sets of Victorians experiencing London, then just London itself, as the Gothic was clearly used by authors and investigators to explain what the metropolis was in the rapidly developing nineteenth century.
Finding sources was an interesting experience. I often found that there was a default list of texts that all historians had used in their own works or referred to. Moreover, to an extent the historiography despite all its value was lacking somewhat, with several texts failing to explicitly discuss the Gothic or any historical blurring. As such I spent an extended period finding more texts that would be of use. Procuring primary sources was not as difficult thanks to the many online databases, however it was still a long process, particularly as my subject area and the themes I was looking at were quite abstract, and so it was often a very prolonged search. Nonetheless, I found a sizeable number of materials in a relatively stress-free way.
All things considered, it was a very enjoyable and rewarding experience, as despite any frustrations I may have experienced, I was motivated to do this dissertation not because it was compulsory, or solely to achieve a good grade. I did it because I found it fun, and could broaden my horizons as a Londoner about where I live, and how people have experienced it.
Nilay Visana is a BA History student at the University of Portsmouth. His dissertation was joint-winner of the Josephine Butler Memorial Prize, which is awarded for an outstanding piece of work on women’s or gender history.
Neil Bertram, James Mayer and Liam Pietrasik, third year history students at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on the ways in which science and technology combined between the years of 1880 and 1914 to foster fears of a dystopian society, along with creating dreams of a utopian future. Their research was undertaken as part of a final year group research project. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Robert James, Senior Lecturer in Social and Cultural History at Portsmouth.
Concepts of utopia and dystopia represent imaginary societies in which people live either in a perfect environment, governed by the laws which provide happiness to everyone, or in an oppressive society under repressive state control. With social investigators publishing reflections of society, these were taken up by social commentators to project future visions. Authors imagined dark visions of the future where totalitarian rulers governed the life of ordinary citizens. Their works explored many themes of dystopian societies – repressive social control, influence of technology, freedom of speech, censorship and class distinctions. Three strands of research were undertaken as part of the research project: Visions of the Future, Social Degeneration, and Fear of Technology. Linking the findings concludes that there was a greater preponderance of dark visions of a bleak, dystopian future rather than the utopian dream.
‘Visions of the Future’ can be assessed through social commentators in novels and caricatures. Social investigator, Jack London, observed one fear as an uprising of the poor. London used his investigations of the poor and downtrodden in ThePeople of the Abyss to form the basis of capitalism suppressing people in The Iron Heel. [1] What can be seen from the historiography is little agreement on whether The Iron Heel represents a utopian or dystopian view. Alessandro Portelli suggests London projected the utopian hopes of a fledgling working-class movement; whereas Francis Shore claimed that London’s focus was on “dystopian realities rather than utopian possibilities”. [2] Industrialisation and urbanisation played a major part in peoples’ response to the march of modernity. In 1886 newspapers reported “Panic in London” where ‘large masses’ met ‘social control’ in the form of ill-equipped police. [3] ‘The Police of the Future’ cartoon emphasised the merging of police and military, and responding to the accusation of being ill-equipped. [4] The cartoon appeared seven days after the London “Black Monday” riot which The Times described as the most “alarming and destructive…within living memory”. [5] To ‘respectable’ Victorians over-armament of the police was needed to quell insurrection. To the ‘deviants’ the depiction was of puppets of the state with their weapons of oppression. William Morris used social investigators and real events to project his ‘vision of the future’. With News from Nowhere, Morris drew on his participation in Black Monday reflecting that it was a fight against state enforcers. He shows the future as utopian journeying through dystopia. [6] In a further riot in November 1887 on “Bloody Sunday”, William Morris was present, witnessing the “shocking brutality” of soldiers and policemen. [7] Phillippa Bennett described ‘Black Monday’ as the warm-up and Bloody Sunday as the dress rehearsal for revolution. [8] Jack London also made the connection as “the First Revolt was premature….the Second Revolt….was doomed to equal futility”. [9] The depiction of the future ‘Police’, Iron Heel and News from Nowhere hold a mirror up against 1880 to 1914 and reflect dystopia, yet sometimes hiding behind utopian dreams.
Reflecting on ‘Social Degeneration’ the Victorians viewed “that sections of the population were gradually accumulating deleterious traits or overt diseases which they passed to their offspring”. [10] In William Booth’s 1890 text In Darkest England and the Way Out, he describes the poor in London’s districts as “a population sodden with drink, steeped in vice” and are “the denizens of Darkest England”. [11] This group of people were thought to be the “Achilles heel of a project dedicated to progress”. [12] Unless something was done, society would be contaminated, regress, and fall back to more primitive shapes. Social commentators such as H.G. Wells drew on these issues and projected them to a wider audience. Wells’ The Time Machine offered an analysis of future society based on the class divisions within the Victorian society. Wells projected that naivety towards problems would do nothing but condemn humanity to a degenerative future of “carnivorous Morlocks”. [13] In doing so, Wells mirrored the work of early investigators who saw the East End working-class district as a place of simply savage, deviant, and grotesque beings, “not unlike those found in the wilds of Africa”. [14] A dystopian future loomed over Victorian society with Wells’ visions of the future coupled with slum investigators’ depictions of the present. Biologists such as Edwin Lankester and Max Nordau put a scientific stamp on contemporary anxieties surrounding the degeneration of society. Lankester spoke of “the decline of the white races into parasitism, and in his 1880 text Degeneration:A Chapter in Darwinism, pronouncing that society must “protect this English branch from relapse and degeneration”. [15] Social investigators such as Booth and Mayhew raised the question of degeneration of London society, social commentators projected these fears to wider audience with Darwin, Lankester and Nordau putting a scientific stamp on these fears. Without a means to stop this degeneration, a dystopian future loomed over Victorian society.
A Victorian ‘Fear of Technology’ can be gauged in relation to changes in technology and culture that created distinctive new ways of thinking. Stephen Kern argues that the Austro-Hungarian aristocracy saw technologies, such as the telephone, as breaking down the barriers of distance – both physical and across social strata. This meant that all places could be “equidistant from the seat of power” and therefore considered of equal value. [16] Hence the elite feared that technology could facilitate a rising of those socially below them as observed by Jack London. Technologies, such as the bicycle, bridged social spaces and provided a cheap form of travel. Cinema, which, with affordable pricing and mixed seating, brought the culture of the theatre to those of the working classes, was also seen as a threat. Investigation of dystopian and utopian novels, shows a clear sense of cultural pessimism that surrounds this period. Gregory Claeys argues that the appearance of a plethora of dystopian novels, from 1890, is symbolic of a negative trend in the perception of utopias. [17] Zoltán Kádár and Janos I. Tóth argue that “technological advance is one of the most dominant motives” and that dystopian novels became their own literary genre at the end of the nineteenth century. [18] Gorman Beauchamp argues, a fear of technology “is a view that informs the dystopian novel, a uniquely modern form of fiction whose emergence parallels, reflects, and warns against the growing potentialities of modern technology”. [19] Michael Paris argues that the “submarine, the super-battleship, the tank and wireless telegraphy all became commonplace weapons in the work of polemical novelists who urged their governments to take note of this or that potential weapon and development its use for the next great war.” [20]
The period between 1880 and 1914 shows a rise in dystopian beliefs. This was in reaction to a rapidly changing social, industrial and techno-scientific landscape. Dark visions permeated visons of the future, with respect to social degeneration and fear of technology. The period is a fin de siècle reaction to, and fear of, modernity. Decline, degeneration, new political thought, science and inventions, social studies of the poor, disease and insecurity fuelled dystopian anxieties which pervaded the news, arts, literature, philosophy and even fear of each other through eugenics and Social Darwinism. The visions of the future manifested themselves through social commentators writing dystopian novels and general reflections in newspapers. Social investigators’ studies of city degeneration show the consequences of allowing the dark underworld a foothold in society. They serve as a graphic, dystopian warning that society is heading in the wrong direction. At the same time science and technology should have pointed the way to a utopia filled with labour saving devices, transport and bright housing, yet fear of the ‘new’ stifled aspirations. Optimism turned to pessimism when the realisation dawned that technology could destroy as well as enhance life. Any utopian dreams were finally destroyed, with the advent of the First World War. Savagery, technological weapons and state conscripted soldiers showed the social commentators were correct in their dystopian visions.
Neil Bertram, James Mayer and Liam Pietrasik getting ready to present their findings to some of the final year cohort. Image author’s own.
Notes
[1] Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space 1880-1918, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003), 215.
[2] Gregory Claeys, “The origins of dystopia: Wells, Huxley and Orwell,” in The Cambridge Companion to Utopian Literature, ed. Gregory Claeys (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 112.
[3] Zoltán Kádár and Tóth I. Jano,s “The critique of technology in 20th century philosophy and dystopia,” Procedia – Social and Behavioural Sciences 71, No. 1 (2013): 53.
[4] Gorman Beauchamp, “Technology in the Dystopian Novel,” Modern Fiction Stories 32, No. 1 (1986): 53.
[5] Michael Paris, “Fear of Flying: The Fiction of War,” History Today 43, No. 6 (1993): 29.
[6] Christopher Lawrence, ‘Degeneration Under the Microscope at the fin de siècle’,Annals of Science, 66, No. 4 (2009): 455.
[7] William Booth, In Darkest England and the Way Out (London: Funk and Wagnalls, 1890), 14, 15.
[8] Colin Heywood, ‘Society’. In The Nineteenth Century: Europe 1789-1914, edited by T.C.W Blanning (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2001), 61.
[9] H. G. Wells, The Time Machine: An Invention (London: William Heinemann, 1895), 37.
[10] K.R. Swafford, ‘Resounding the Abyss: The Politics of Narration in Jack London’s The People of the Abyss’, The Journal ofPopular Culture 39, No. 5 (2006): 841.
[11] Edwin Ray Lankester, Degeneration: A Chapter in Darwinism (London: Macmillan and Co, 1880), 62.
[12] Jack London, The People of the Abyss (London: Macmillan and Co., 1903). Jack London, The Iron Heel (London: Macmillan and Co., 1908).
[13] Alessandro Portelli, “Jack London’s Missing Revolution: Notes on “The Iron Heel”,” Science Fiction Studies 9, No. 2 (1982): 191; Francis Shore, “Power, Gender, and Ideological Discourse in The Iron Heel,” in Rereading Jack London, eds. Leonard Cassuto and Jeanne Campbell Reesman (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996), 91.
[14] Our London Reporter, “Panic in London: Police and Military Precautions, Warrants Issued for the Arrest of Socialist Leaders, Business Suspended, Meeting of the Unemployed, Interview with Mr. Hyndman,” The Manchester Guardian, February 11, 1886, 5.
[15] “The Police of the Future.” Punch, or The London Charivari, February 27, 1886.
[16] “The Rioting in the West-End,” The Times, February 10, 1886, 5.
[17] First published in 1890. William Morris, News from Nowhere; or, An Epoch of Rest. Being some Chapters from a Utopian Romance (Hammersmith: Kelmscott Press, 1892).
[18] Phillippa Bennett, “Riot, Romance and Revolution: William Morris and the Art of War,” Journal of William Morris Studies 18, No. 4 (2010): 25.
Jessica Harper and Katy Hodges, third year history students at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on the research they conducted as part of a final year group research project. Along with fellow final year students Hannah Coulouras and Phillip Gerrish, Jessica and Katy looked into veterans’ experiences of D-Day in June 1944. As well as presenting their findings as part of the unit’s assessment, the students also gave a public presentation at Portsmouth City Museum. The final year group research unit is co-ordinated by Dr Robert James, Senior Lecturer in Social and Cultural History at Portsmouth.
Personal Experiences of D-Day: Told Through the Words of the Veterans
As part of our final year research project we worked with the D-Day Museum, looking at the personal experiences of the veterans involved. The D-Day Museum holds a wealth of material on the campaign – we didn’t realise how much until we started looking through it – but we decided to focus on the sources that gave a personal perspective, such as letters, diaries, and interviews. We studied four different source types, comparing and contrasting them in order to assess issues such as change over time and national differences. We had the privilege of sharing our research with the university and the wider public, in the form of a presentation at Portsmouth’s City Museum, with the aim of provoking further research into the veterans’ personal experiences. These experiences can be put in conjunction with other historical writing on D-Day, which is principally coming from a military perspective, in order to create a ‘whole’ history of the event.
The first type of source we assessed was the letters and diaries written during 1944, surrounding the build up and duration of D-Day. To physically hold these contemporary artefacts, which are accessible in the Museum’s archive, made the experiences expressed in the letters and diaries feel more relatable and allowed us to make a connection with the veterans who wrote them. These personal sources reveal the great excitement and enthusiasm felt by the men in the lead-up to D-Day, but also hint at the nervousness they felt. For example, one combatant wrote to his wife requesting that she went to church to pray ‘for serenity of mind to face whatever lay ahead’. [1]
The interviews conducted by Cornelius Ryan in 1958 were the second type of source that we analysed. Ryan interviewed a range of people involved in D-Day, from both the allied and enemy forces. We decided to look into the German perspective of the D-Day landings. This gave us a fresh insight into the German experiences of the war, which have not been studied extensively in Britain. It is also a multi-layered source as Ryan took the interviews and then summarised them, resulting in the sources being reliant on Ryan’s personal interpretation. This, then, makes these sources incredibly unique, providing a new outlook on the German experiences. The sources revealed the great relief felt by the German combatants that the invasion had finally come to a head. ‘Now, let’s get it over with’, were the remarks made by one German soldier at the start of the invasion. [2]
The third type of source we examined was the memoirs of the 1990s and early 2000s, produced by Tony Chapman on behalf of the Landing Craft Association (LCA). These sources are useful as while the veterans – who demonstrated their trust in Chapman, an archivist/historian and member of the LCA, by referring to him as ‘shipmate’ – are able to recollect their experiences felt at the time of D-Day, they also provide a retrospective view. The memoirs and their experiences can then be compared in order to build interlinking stories which connect and develop an under-researched history.
Finally, we evaluated interviews that were conducted in 2014, created as part of the “Normandy Veterans 70 Years On” project. This supplied a source that was based on the memories of the veterans, and also one that was impacted by hindsight. Therefore, the experiences retold were those that had stayed with the veterans throughout the 70-year gap and which were most significant to them, as individuals. These sources are available on the Legasee website (http://www.legasee.org.uk/), making them easily accessible for anyone with an interest in the campaign.
We were able to find similarities and differences between the sources which enabled us to unearth various themes. These included British vs. German experiences, humour vs. trauma, and excitement vs. guilt. Through studying these themes, the issue of the importance of memory was highlighted. The humour and excitement was particularly emphasised in the 1944 sources, demonstrating how the veterans were making light of a confusing situation. Yet, later sources have illustrated how memory can be a fragile concept to work with. This does not mean that these sources are less valuable. They depict how hindsight has allowed these men to reflect on their feelings and how this shaped their experiences, not just during the D-Day invasions, but throughout the rest of their lives. One of the most poignant recollections came from Douglas Turtle. He recalled how bodies were ‘flying all over the place. Heads and shoulders and arms and legs, all over the place. It brings it all back, it’s terrible. Seeing all these men killed, what for, what for?’. [3]
Working in conjunction with the D-Day Museum has been incredibly enjoyable and useful for our studies. It has provided us with four different source types which were easily interlinkable and interesting to analyse. The public presentation at Portsmouth City Museum allowed us to expand on our findings and research further into the personal experiences of the veterans. It has been a great experience to present our hard work and provide the public with a fresh insight into D-Day, with the hope that we were able to provoke their thoughts about not only the military side of the campaign, but also the individual impact of D-Day on the veterans themselves.
Hannah Coulouras, Jessica Harper, Phillip Gerrish and Katy Hodges presenting their findings to visitors at Portsmouth City Museum.
Notes
[1] H540/1990. Diana Holdsworth, Ramsbury, Wiltshire. Letter written to wife, 4 June 1944. D-Day Museum archive.
[2] Lt Carl Saul, Cornelius Ryan interviews, 1958. D-Day Museum archive.
[3] Douglas Turtle, interview held on Legasee website, http://www.legasee.org.uk/, last accessed 25 May 2017.
Tuesday 20 June 2017 – 8:00 pm, Portsmouth Cathedral
A specially commissioned performance inspired by the works of Siegfried Sassoon, Wilfred Owen and other WW1 poets, in The Cathedral on June 20th which will present the human cost of Passchendaele through words, music and images. The performance is supported by the New Theatre Royal and the University of Portsmouth’s Department of Creative Technology.
An exhibition that maps the distribution of men from Portsmouth and the local area who died during the Battle of Jutland on 31 May 1916 has opened at the History Centre in Portsmouth’s Central Library. The free exhibition is the result of a collaboration between Dr Rob James, his Research Assistant, John Bolt, and the Portsdown branch of the University of the Third Age. The exhibition is open until 23 June. The project, the final stage of which will be the production on an online map to be hosted on the University’s Port Towns and Urban Cultures website (http://porttowns.port.ac.uk/), was funded by an award from the Heritage Lottery Fund.
