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Poets in the News: John Milton and William Golder in Early Wellington

Panoramic Milton

Panoramic Milton

Bachelder’s Grand Miltonian Tableaux of Paradise Lost, a moving panorama, was first presented at the American Hotel, Auburn, California, on 22 April 1865, and it travelled in the United States and England before moving to Australia in 1867.14 Paradise Lost was one among three panoramas Bachelder toured together page 22 throughout New Zealand between January 1869 and June 1870, the others being Bachelder’s Grand Historic Mirror, and Diorama of the American War and The Grand Moving Diorama of The Apocalypse. The first exhibition of The American War took place on 6 January 1869 in Christchurch, and was followed by Paradise Lost on 27 February. The Apocalypse arrived later, and the first notice of its exhibition in Dunedin is on 31 May 1869. Bachelder was active in New Zealand as the proprietor of these and five other panoramas: The Naval Engagement between the Merimac and Monitor, and The Grand Moving Diorama of the Kearsage and Alabama, which were exhibited with the diorama of the American War; Bachelder’s Combination Colossean Pantascope of a Tour Through America, New Zealand, and Australia (1872), The Arctic Expedition of 1875-76 (1877), and Enchanted Palace! Silver Lake! Abode of the Fairies! (1880). He also acted as the agent for Thompson’s Confederate Diorama of the American War and his final appearance in 1882 is in advertisements for a minstrel show. The most widely noticed are The American War (1869-1883), of which J. C. Rainer became the proprietor in 1872, and Tour Through America (1872- 1880); Paradise Lost was reportedly purchased by Bachelder’s New Zealand agent, Henry Eastwood, in 1875, and references to it continue to appear during 1876.15

The first three panoramas constitute a remarkable group, because they take very different subjects and sources for their images: an epic episode in recent American history, an epic poem, and a prophetic vision. These differences are acknowledged in reports on the effects experienced at the exhibition of each panorama: the source of The American War panorama was contemporary places and events known of, or experienced by, members of the audience, a correlation doubly underpinned for The Tour Through America because some reviewers could verify the accuracy of the scenes from personal experience, and Bachelder had brought with him photographs ‘taken for the express object of painting the diorama’ which had been copied ‘with regard to strictest accuracy’ to make the page 23 panoramic images;16 the source of Paradise Lost was ‘Milton’s grand realisations’;17 and the source of The Apocalypse was ‘St John’s mighty visions’.18 But the same criteria are applied to the imagery of all three, the crucial effect being the effect of ‘reality’, whether or not it was thought to have been achieved. A comment on The American War is representative of commentary on the overall effect sought by all three panoramas: to ‘give the scenes and events an air of life-like reality [...] being apparently placed before the eyes of the spectators as if [they] were actually taking place’.19

On the same day that the Evening Post report introducing this discussion was published, a report published in the Wellington Independent foregrounded a difficulty experienced by some viewers of the panorama with its pictorial realisation of Milton’s poem:

Milton’s beautiful language renders the most exaggerated and impossible conceptions grand and impressive, but pictorial compositions, although thruthful [sic] to the poem, strike one as utterly incongruous. Such a poem as Paradise Lost is really desecrated by being made the groundwork of a Panorama, but looking at the matter as a mere exhibition, the pictures are really worth seeing and will well repay a visit’.20

This difficulty, as well as a moral and religious exception to nudity, clearly followed the panorama on its circuit: for example, Henry Eastwood responded to criticism in the Daily Southern Cross, by reprinting, together with the advertisement for its exhibition in Auckland, a substantial review offering unqualified praise of the panorama which had been published in the Ballarat Star.21 A report published in the Evening Post about the second performance brings out in useful detail the experience of incongruity which attended the performance for some of those who wrote about it: page 24

Bachelder’s diorama of Paradise Lost was again exhibited at the Odd Fellows’ Hall, last evening, as we were sorry to observe, to a rather thin house. The pictures are certainly marvels of the scenic art, some of the landscapes especially being worthy of the highest praise. The figures are well painted, too, and not devoid of expression, but the subjects are badly chosen, and, whatever may be said, there is something in the whole affair that jars upon one strangely. In Milton’s marvellous poem there seems to be nothing incongruous in myriads of angels engaged in fierce battle; nor are we startled at reading of Satan’s legions bringing up their hellish engines of war, which belch forth sulphureous flames and destruction—in fact, it seems a natural sequence to the revolt; but, when we see angels reduced to bodily presence on canvass, on horseback and in chariots, with arms offensive and defensive, hacking away at each other (their wings appearing to be in imminent danger of getting chopped off)—when we see them costumed like American militiamen, formed in squares with mathematical precision, and afterwards discover that Satan’s hellish engines, which existed in our fancy as something vague and terrible, are depicted as merely old fashioned winged cannon, we feel that an outrage has been done to taste, to say the least of it, and the immortal Milton vilely parodied. To anyone with the poet’s sublime description of the final overthrow of Satan fresh in his mind, especially the climax, ‘Eternal wrath burned after them to the bottomless pit,’ it seems, if not impiety, at least high treason against lofty conception, to look at a stiff figure standing up in a species of car placidly throwing rays from his hand on a crowd of dark-looking individuals, who are falling over a terrace. Mr Carey’s descriptive lecture goes a long way towards relieving the absurd incongruity of the page 25 exhibition. He is an elocutionist of no mean powers, and recites Milton’s poetry with a chaste and yet forcible diction, extremely pleasing to listen to. In fact, were he to roll up the pictures and banish the transmogrified angels from view, and then recite Paradise Lost, he would afford an intellectual treat far better worth the money than the present ‘show’.22

In contrast to the reporter’s representation of Golder’s poetic performance, in which nothing was capable of ‘relieving the absurd incongruity’ he experienced, reviewers were typically complimentary about the technical qualities of the pictures shown. But the strong preference for the verbal rather than pictorial representation of sublimity brings out an issue which is central to the discussion of the diorama and panorama—that is, the emphasis on realism in the depictions of scenes and events (a good example, given the American origin of the panorama, is the representation of the warring angels as ‘costumed like American militiamen, formed in squares with mathematical precision’). For this reviewer, the supernatural cannot be visually embodied with sufficient grandeur to retain conviction; in fact, the visualisation of the poem debases its intellectual pleasures, which are associated with hearing the words recited ‘with a chaste and yet forcible diction’. This contrast is emphasised by the importance attached to the eloquence of the reader; Bachelder was found wanting when he was the lecturer (was it his American accent?) and this criticism was also made in Australian reports of the presentation of the panorama, which were critical of the lecturer for not being ‘an accomplished elocutionist’.23 The perspective of judgment is emphatically literary, the representation of the performance being based on well-established conceptions of the imaginative and linguistic effects achieved by Milton’s poem.

Conducting a media-specific analysis is challenging because it is difficult to interpret the interest and excitement generated by panoramas as a new media form, which is typically referred to in page 26 newspaper reports by references to full houses, repeat performances and the power and realism of the visual effects. What follows in this section is an attempt to locate the crucial components of the form and the values attached to them (its ‘physical resources and signifying strategies’). More information about the specifics of the imagery is given in an advertisement published in the Evening Post for a return exhibition of the panorama in 1874:
Illustration 3: 1874 Advertisement for Bachelder’s Paradise Lost. Evening Post, 10 November, 1874, 3.

Illustration 3: 1874 Advertisement for Bachelder’s Paradise Lost. Evening Post, 10 November, 1874, 3.

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Australian advertisements noted that the paintings were based on those of John Martin, who introduced a new conception of Milton’s poem into the repertoire of its illustration in 1826 by emphasising the vast, imagined spaces in which angelic and human action occurred.24 Lacking the actual imagery of the panorama, it is possible to appreciate what might have stimulated the advertisement’s response to ‘Eve before the Fountain’ by consulting Martin’s illustration of that scene, in which Eve is located in the centre of a still bowl of light pouring in from the wide expanses of sky and framed by the luxuriance and variety of nature.

Illustration 4: Illustration to Paradise Lost, Book 4.452, in [Plates] by John Martin (London: Septimus Prowett, Old Bond Street, 1825- 1826). Ref. 2010/5. Collection reference: REng MIL 1667 Para 1825. Rare English Collection, Special Printed Collections. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

Illustration 4: Illustration to Paradise Lost, Book 4.452, in [Plates] by John Martin (London: Septimus Prowett, Old Bond Street, 1825- 1826). Ref. 2010/5. Collection reference: REng MIL 1667 Para 1825. Rare English Collection, Special Printed Collections. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

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A composite of what one might have experienced on going to the Odd Fellows’ Hall to see the Batchelder’s Grand Miltonian Tableaux can be put together from newspaper reports and advertisements. In her history of this medium for entertainment and instruction in Australasia, Colligan describes the form as follows:

In the forty-year period of moving panorama popularity in Australia and New Zealand, from about the mid- 1840s to the late 1880s, there were three main categories of subject: scenes of the Australian and New Zealand colonies; scenes of England and the Continent; and scenes of historical and contemporary battles. There was also a minor category; religious scenes.25

The emphasis, in other words, was on current news and information, communicated realistically by employing large-scale images, lighting effects characteristic of the diorama, and voice, sound and motion in a multimedia presentation achieved by painting the pictures on a long strip of canvas, wound round a spindle and unrolled across the proscenium of a theatre or hall to the accompaniment of music, the pictures being explained by the lecturer.26 All the component elements, and the public interest, which are associated with twentieth-century newsreels, television and digital media are here already in place, if not yet integrated technologically into a new media form like film.27

More information about the social and cultural contexts in which the Paradise Lost panorama was presented can be obtained from a cartoon published in the Ballarat Punch on 19 October 1867, at the time of its first presentation in Australia: page 29
Illustration 5: ‘From the Sublime to the Ridiculous’. Ballarat Punch, 19 October 1867. Reproduced with the permission of the State Library of Victoria.

Illustration 5: ‘From the Sublime to the Ridiculous’. Ballarat Punch, 19 October 1867. Reproduced with the permission of the State Library of Victoria.

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One of the jokes concerns name recognition. Not every passer- by is expected to be sufficiently literate to recognise immediately that ‘Paradise Lost’ signifies a poem, or to be aware of the reputation of Bachelder’s panoramas, although the cultural boundaries of literacy do not sharply distinguish members of the working class from higher social levels. The pavior in the cartoon could, for example, be William Golder. But clearly those reading the cartoon are expected to pick up both punning jokes—that is, both Paradise Lost and Bachelder are assumed to be part of current cultural literacy. It is also worth emphasising the context of the conversation: it occurs in the street, with a diversity of social and cultural markers indiscriminately rubbing up against each other. There is the tobacconist, notices for another of Bachelder’s panoramas, The American War , and for Paradise Lost higher on the wall, and one for a tea meeting. The purposes of the Mechanics’ Institute, like the Wellington Athenaeum, emphasised self-improvement through education and instructional entertainment, especially in modern knowledge. Two women are going into the Mechanics’ Institute, where the panorama is to be presented, and they are holding a pamphlet- sized object with the name Milton visible. It was usual for a printed commentary on a panorama to be provided; regrettably, no copy of the one the women are holding has yet been found.

While originating in Europe, the moving panorama, the ancestor of the cinema, achieved its full development as popular entertainment in America. Beginning in the 1840s, an American conception of ‘new world’ space was transmitted to Australasia primarily by means of panoramas of American scenes and events, but including Bachelder’s Paradise Lost.28 One obvious question, especially given the Evening Post’s reporter’s criticism of some of the paintings, is, What was it about Paradise Lost that led to its presentation in this medium? A route towards an answer is through developments in the representation of landscape in the first half of the nineteenth century. Paradise Lost assumed panoramic form for the first time in 1829, when Pandemonium page 31 was presented at the Leicester Square Rotunda. Wolfgang Born reproduces drawings for it which show that the panorama followed one of John Martin’s visualisations of the great city in Hell, and also demonstrates that what he terms ‘the panoramic style’ in American painting was developed by Thomas Cole following his viewing of this panorama. He argues that this style is distinguished by the extension of the horizontal axis of the painting and ‘a shifting vanishing point. [...] The spectator is expected to disregard traditional aesthetic standards such as unity of space and pictorial quality in favor of what might be called a cosmic stage effect’. He argues that the panoramic style distinguished American from European landscape painting during the nineteenth century because of its ‘unique space- feeling’, a response to ‘the realization of the vastness of the country, its unlimited horizon’, and it emphasises ‘exact documentary realism’ and the unfolding of ‘a comprehensive view’. As Born puts it, ‘in the hands of a gifted artist, [...] the huge strip [of canvas] became a painted epic, haunting and arresting’.29 It is exactly these values which can be found abundantly manifested in the imagined terrestrial and cosmic spaces of Paradise Lost but which were released most fully by nineteenth-century illustrators, beginning with John Martin. In other words, releasing the imaginative potential of Milton’s poem both required a new ‘space-feeling’ in its readers and new techniques for representing it pictorially, and contributed to new ways of perceiving the world which evolved together with European colonisation and scientific and technological development.

Callaway adds an important additional value to Born’s analysis when she reframes the notion of a comprehensive view with the term ‘sovereign gaze’, which is ‘as much about the ideology of European imperialism generally as it is about the specific American variant’.30 A further highly-relevant context linking this imperial spectator with other aspects of social change is provided by Bennett in his analysis of the development of the page 32 museum and exhibition in the nineteenth century as sources of instructional entertainment. He argues that ‘the nineteenth century was quite unprecedented in the social effort it devoted to the organization of spectacles arranged for increasingly large and undifferentiated publics’ and that panoramas, like museums and exhibitions, formed ‘a new technology of vision [...] thus democratising the eye of power’.31 In Paradise Lost the character who most exemplifies both the ‘sovereign gaze’ and the democratic distribution of power is Satan (see illustration 6), but Golder also exemplifies this new way of seeing, notably in his prospect poems which place the new world to be settled under the observant and ‘roving eye’ of the settler.32

Illustration 6: Illustration to Paradise Lost, Book 2.1 in [Plates] by John Martin (London: Septimus Prowett, Old Bond Street, 1825-1826). Ref. 2010/4. Collection reference: REng MIL 1667 Para 1825. Rare English Collection, Special Printed Collections. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

Illustration 6: Illustration to Paradise Lost, Book 2.1 in [Plates] by John Martin (London: Septimus Prowett, Old Bond Street, 1825-1826). Ref. 2010/4. Collection reference: REng MIL 1667 Para 1825. Rare English Collection, Special Printed Collections. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

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A significant inference from this re-presentation of Paradise Lost as a panorama is that the same values were attributed by audiences (if not all the reporters) to Milton’s poetic scenery as to the contemporary scenes typically represented in this popular medium. If spectators were being presented with ‘mirrors’ of actual historical events, which emphasised the reality of those events and sought to provide authoritative knowledge about them, then the events narrated by Milton in Paradise Lost and pictorially realised in the panorama may be understood to have the same significance. And John Martin’s illustrations provided for the nineteenth century what films like Star Wars, or a television series like Babylon 5 (1994-98) provided for the later twentieth century: a visual actualisation of realms beyond human experience but which are brought within the imaginably real by the power of artistic depiction. The obvious obstacle to this line of thought is the attribute of ‘exact documentary realism’, but it is worth dwelling for a moment on its possible implications for reading Milton’s poem. Both Paradise Lost and its illustrators provide access to an accepted, Christian version of reality—the worlds of heaven, hell and paradise before the world as we know it came into existence—to which there is no direct experiential access. The Wellington Independent’s report locates the problem with the panorama’s images not in their lack of truth, but in the poet’s ‘most exaggerated and impossible conceptions’ which they illustrate. On the other hand, the angelic narrator Raphael, when considering the problem of narrating events beyond ‘the reach/Of human sense’, advises Adam that his account has to be understood figuratively but then allows for another possibility: ‘what if Earth/Be but the shadow of Heav’n, and things therein/Each to other like, more then on Earth is thought?’ (Paradise Lost, 5.571-576). This understanding is echoed by a reporter in Auckland who, in a complimentary review of The Apocalypse, wrote that ‘the power of the artist’s pencil [...] gives life and reality to forms that to the ordinary mind are dim and shadowy’.33 As a world distant from the here and now of its page 34 spectators’ lives, the world of Paradise Lost is of the same order as the worlds of foreign cities and peoples, historical and contemporary events which dominated the panoramas, or real places in which astonishing events took place but which could only be known by most people through representations in image and narration. In this respect, I would suggest, just as the panoramas of recent battles brought news of them to places and people remote from their occurrence by employing the conventions of pictorial realism, so the panorama of Paradise Lost sought to present realistically the origins of the world according to a Christian and Miltonic conception of it. In the process, it revealed the modernity of the poem and contributed to dissemination of a new ‘space-feeling’ among a widespread popular audience shaped by progressivist conceptions of society and knowledge and actively engaged in imperial expansion.

Furthermore, there is the question of the respectability and instructional value of the panorama, indicated in the cartoon by the two women entering the Mechanics’ Institute. Richard D. Altick notes:

panoramas did derive from, or reflect, two worlds. They were a commercial enterprise which appealed to both the playgoer and the art fancier, a unique blend of the spectacular and romantic impulses that characterized English theatrical and pictorial art during the first half of the nineteenth century. [...] [T]he panorama also served a much-needed alternative to the theatre in a period when playgoing was unthinkable to the ‘serious’ families of London.34

Across the territories of the British Empire, and especially in the United States, evangelical Protestantism particularly emphasised the twin requirements of realism and instruction in entertainment.35

All of these aspects of the panorama as a new media form come together in the writings of Rev. Thomas Dick, whose work page 35 is a constant argument for human betterment through intellectual advance, democratic access to knowledge, and the importance of science as the means of enlarging inherited and limited conceptions of both humanity and divinity. For him, the anchor for the mental work of knowledge creation is ‘the reality of what actually exists within the boundless precincts of Jehovah’s empire’.36 The new conception of space discussed by Born is not explained by Dick as the product of experience of the new world of America, but results from scientific exploration of the universe through the telescope,

[... which] may be considered as an instrument or machine which virtually transports us to the distant regions of space. [...] When we view the planet Saturn [through a telescope which magnifies 200 times], and obtain a view of its belts and satellites, and its magnificent rings, we are transported, as it were, through regions of space to a point in the heavens more than nine hundred millions of miles from the surface of our globe, and contemplate those august objects as if we were placed within five millions of miles of the surface of that planet. [...] [T]he telescope, in a few moments, transports our visual powers to that far distant point of space.37

In Dick’s conception, the panorama as a media form can be considered to perform a function identical to the telescope; it is an ‘instrument or machine which virtually transports [spectators] to distant realms’ with the addition of ‘moral and intellectual instruction’ derived from reality, not imaginative invention. He approves of Panoramas,

[...] or perspective exhibitions, of a large scale, of ancient and modern buildings, cities, towns, ranges of mountains, sea-ports, volcanoes, grottoes, romantic rural scenery, and whatever is grand, beautiful, and interesting, in the scenes of Nature and Art [because such] page 36 panoramic scenes, while they could not fail to gratify every spectator, would convey to the mind ideas which would not be derived from any other source, except the actual view of the objects represented.38

In Dick’s conception, the panorama as represented by the newspaper reports through fragmented reference to the diversity of prior media forms becomes an integrated medium with its own proper aesthetic, intellectual and cultural purpose, and technological apparatus, ‘physical characteristics and signifying strategies’ working together.

14 See Peter E. Palmquist and Thomas R. Kailbourn, Pioneer Photographers of the Far West: A Biographical Dictionary, 1840-1865 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2000), p. 91. For Bachelder’s panorama presentations in Australasia, see Colligan, Canvas Documentaries, pp. 71-3, and Anita Calloway, Visual Ephemera: Theatrical Art in Nineteenth-Century Australia (Sydney: UNSW Press, 2000), pp. 144-5. Adrienne Simpson places Bachelder’s activities in New Zealand in context in ‘Putting Entertainment on the Map: the New Zealand Touring Circuits in 1874’, Australasian Drama Studies, 26 (1995), 153-76 (pp. 161, 165 and 170-2).

15 The New Zealand Tablet, 1 May 1875, 13.

16 Daily Southern Cross, 23 May 1872, 3.

17 Daily Southern Cross, 1 December 1869, 3.

18 Auckland Star, 12 May 1870, 2.

19 Evening Post, 4 September 1869, 2.

20 Wellington Independent, 24 March 1870, 2.

21 Daily Southern Cross, 1 December 1869, 1. This report is also the most detailed description of the scenes in the panorama.

22 Evening Post, 25 March 1870, 2.

23 For ‘American accent’, see Daily Southern Cross, 17 June 1874, 2. For ‘accomplished elocutionist’, see Colligan, Canvas Documentaries, p. 71.

24 See Brian Opie, ‘Versions of the Sublime: Illustrating Milton’s Paradise Lost’, Turnbull Library Record, 29 (1996), 25-46, for a discussion of Martin’s innovations in the illustration of Paradise Lost.

25 Colligan, Canvas Documentaries, p. 41.

26 Advertisements for The Apocalypse gave the length of the canvas as 20,000 feet.

27 See Callaway, Visual Ephemera, p. 138

28 See Born, American Landscape Painting, p. 89, and Callaway, Visual Ephemera, p. 147.

29 See Wolfgang Born, American Landscape Painting: An Interpretation (New Haven, 1948), pp. 80-1, 88, 100, 86, 96, 117, 80 and 117.

30 Callaway, Visual Ephemera, p. 139.

31 Tony Bennett, The Birth of the Museum: History, Theory, Politics (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), pp. 65 and 68-9.

32 The New Zealand Survey; A Poem in Five Cantoes. With Notes Illustrative of New Zealand Progress and Future Prospects. Also The Crystal Palace of 1851; A Poem in Two Cantoes. With other Poems and Lyrics (Wellington: J. Stoddart and Co., 1867), p. 3; see also his ‘Thoughts on the Wairarapa’, ‘A Lay on Wanganui’, and ‘An Ode on Manawatu’ at http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-corpus-golder.html [accessed 26 Feb 2013].

33 Auckland Star, 12 May 1870, 2.

34 Richard D. Altick, The Shows of London (Cambridge, Mass. and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1978), p. 184.

35 See Doreen M. Rosman, Evangelicals and Culture (London and Canberra: Croom Helm, 1984), especially ch. 3.

36 My emphasis. The Christian Philosopher; Or, The Connection of Science and Philosophy with Religion, in The Complete Works of Thomas Dick, LLD (Cincinnati: Applegate & Co, 1854), II, p. 139.

37 The Practical Astronomer, in The Complete Works of Thomas Dick, LLD (Cincinnati: Applegate & Co, 1854), II, pp. 115-6. Emphasis in the original. Virtual reality, claimed as a distinctive mode of digital representation, is linked to the panorama by J. Jennifer Jones, ‘Absorbing Hesitation: Wordsworth and the Theory of the Panorama’, Studies in Romanticism, 45.3 (2006), 357-75.

38 On the Mental Illumination and Moral Improvement of Mankind; or, An Inquiry into the Means by which a General Diffusion of Knowledge and Moral Principle may be Promoted, in The Complete Works of Thomas Dick, LLD (Cincinnati: Applegate & Co, 1854), I, p. 155.