{"id":1214,"date":"2016-06-12T19:54:19","date_gmt":"2016-06-12T19:54:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/?p=1214"},"modified":"2016-06-12T19:54:19","modified_gmt":"2016-06-12T19:54:19","slug":"on-this-day-in-1816-john-polidori-finds-a-book","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/?p=1214","title":{"rendered":"On This Day in 1816: John Polidori finds a book"},"content":{"rendered":"

The ‘On This Day’ series continues with a post by Fabio\u00a0Camilletti on Fantasmagoriana<\/em>,\u00a0<\/em>celebrating exactly 200 years since the Shelleys, Byron and Polidori held their now infamous ghost story competition during a rainy summer by Lake Geneva. As always, if you have a post to contribute to this series, please email Anna Mercer<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Fabio Camilletti is Associate Professor in the School of Modern Languages and Cultures at the University of Warwick. In 2015 he completed a new edition of Fantasmagoriana<\/em>,<\/a>\u00a0and since then he is working on a project on anthologies of the supernatural in Napoleonic and post-Napoleonic Europe.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On This Day in 1816: \u00a0John Polidori finds a book<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Fantasmagoriana<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On the 12th of June 1816, John Polidori \u2018rode to town\u2019, and \u2018subscribed to a circulating library\u2019; five days later, on June the 17th<\/sup>, he records in his journal that \u2018the ghost-stories are begun by all but me\u2019. Who knows when they started reading: on the evening of the 12th<\/sup>, Polidori slept in a hotel, and so he did on the 13th<\/sup>, when he \u2018walked home in thunder and lightning\u2019, lost his way, and the police drove him back to the inn; it may have been on the 14th<\/sup> (\u2018Shelley and I had a conversation about principles, \u2013 whether man was to be thought merely an instrument\u2019: a nice appendix to a ghost story-telling night), or on the following days \u2013 the Shelleys, at any rate, were always around. The question, however, is in the end irrelevant \u2013 the \u2018night at Villa Diodati\u2019, as we imagine it, may well not have taken place at all. But the book was there, this is for sure: and, most plausibly, it came from the \u2018circulating library in town\u2019, to which Polidori had subscribed on the 12th<\/sup>. In the previous days, he had been reading Tasso and Lucian: from that day on, ghosts, fate, and the principles of life became an increasing concern for the company, until the moment when \u2013 as per the entry of 18, at \u2018Twelve o\u2019clock\u2019\u2013 they \u2018really began to talk ghostly\u2019.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fantasmagoriana <\/em>had been published in Paris by the Alsatian bookseller Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Schoell (or, more correctly, Friedrich Sch\u00f6ll), a philologist and historian who had entered the editorial business during the Revolution \u2013 first in Basel, and later in the French capital \u2013 and would later attend the Congress of Vienna as a member of the king of Prussia\u2019s entourage. Schoell\u2019s bookshop was located in the Rue des Foss\u00e9s-Montmartre (nowadays a part of the Rue d\u2019Aboukir, in the second arrondissment<\/em>), namely a few metres away from the medieval ruins of the convent and church of the Capucines, which had been ravaged during the Terror and would later be dismantled in the course of Haussmann\u2019s renovation of Paris. In 1798, part of the convent had been hired by the Belgian manager \u00c9tienne-Gaspard Robert, better known under the name of Robertson, who had exploited the properties of that quintessentially gothic setting for his show: a mixture of lights, images, and sounds which he sold under the name of Fantasmagorie<\/em>. In the heart of old Paris, not far away from Place de la R\u00e9volution where the king and Robespierre had been guillotined, the book and the show echoed, therefore, each other, both promising an experience of terror behind which, in a sense, sounded as the afterimage of another, and more historical, Terror.<\/p>\n

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\"Robertson's<\/a>

Robertson’s phantasmagoria<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Phantasmagoria was not Robertson\u2019s invention. In the 1770s, an ex-Hussar and freemason named Georg Schr\u00f6pfer had held necromancy s\u00e9ances in his coffee-house in Leipzig, and his ability in summoning ghosts via a hidden magic lantern had awarded him the nickname of Genspenstermacher <\/em>(\u2018Ghost-maker\u2019): Schr\u00f6pfer\u2019s experiments played with the ambiguity between \u2018real\u2019 supernatural and artifice, and so did the shows performed in Paris, since 1792, by an otherwise unknown Philipstahl or Philidor, being the first ones to be advertised under the name fantasmagorie<\/em>, and which exploited the audiences\u2019 interest in occult subject by selling themselves as a way of debunking credulity towards superstition. The same ambiguity was preserved \u2013 and indeed brought to the extreme \u2013 by Robertson\u2019s shows, a veritable multi-sensorial experience that aimed at catching the beholders\u2019 imagination completely: audiences were welcomed in the dark vaults of the convent of the Capucines, where meticulous care was paid to generating a \u2018Gothic\u2019 atmosphere; among skulls and spectral sounds, lamplights and smoke, Robertson held a speech in which he mixed necromancy and occult sciences, electricity and Galvanism; then full dark ensued, while the lantern began projecting its horrors, including skeletons, ghosts, the ancient gods, but also the shadow of Voltaire or the guillotined head of Danton. Ancient superstition mixed with contemporary history: at some point, the show was forcibly closed by the police when rumour was spread that Robertson could bring King Louis XVI back to life.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Naming the book Fantasmagoriana <\/em>meant, therefore, to assimilate the experience of reading to Robertson\u2019s popular phantasmagoria shows, and to offer the reader a comparable hullabaloo of horrors within the three hundred and more pages that each of the two tomes was made of. On the one hand, the equation between literature and magic lantern performances invited readers to approach texts through the visual paradigm constructed by phantasmagoria shows. Let us see a passage from Friedrich August Schulze\u2019s \u2018L\u2019Heure fatale\u2019 (original \u2018Die Verwandtschaft mit der Geisterwelt\u2019), describing the apparition of a girl\u2019s uncanny Doppelg<\/em>\u00e4<\/em>nger<\/em>:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Je m\u2019approchai de l\u2019armoire. Mais juge de ma frayeur mortelle, lorsque me pr\u00e9parant \u00e0 l\u2019ouvrir, les deux battans se d\u00e9ploient sans faire le moindre bruit; la lumi\u00e8re que je tenois \u00e0 la main s\u2019\u00e9teint; et comme si je me trouvois devant un miroir, mon image fidelle sort de l\u2019armoire: l\u2019\u00e9clat qu\u2019elle r\u00e9pand \u00e9claire une grande partie de l\u2019appartement. Alors j\u2019entends ces paroles: \u2018Pourquoi trembler en voyant ton \u00eatre propre s\u2019avancer vers toi, pour te donner la connoissance de ta mort prochaine, et pour te r\u00e9v\u00e9ler la destin\u00e9e de ta maison?\u2019<\/p>\n

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[I went towards the closet. But just imagine my mortal fear when, as I was about to open it, the two doors opened wide without a single sound; the lantern I was holding in my hand switched off, and, as if I was standing in front of a mirror, my faithful image came out of the closet; the shining she emanated enlightened a great part of the room. And then I heard these words: \u2018Why are you trembling in beholding your very being, who is approaching you in order to bring you the knowledge of your coming death, and to reveal you the fate of your lineage?\u2019]<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

The whole scene can be visualised and interpreted by making reference to phantasmagoria devices and visual codes: the alternation of dark and light, the closed doors opening, the image coming towards (and not walking, an effect that the magic lantern would not allow); and, finally, the words not being uttered by the apparition, but rather heard <\/em>by the narrator (exactly in the same way as Robertson\u2019s public did hear speeches coming from the backstage).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"British<\/a>

British illustration for L’Heure fatale<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

On the other hand, the association between visual and textual phantasmagorias also worked the other way round: indeed, the term itself fantasmagorie<\/em>, plausibly devised by Philipstahl\/Philidor, already possessed a strong link with textuality. Literally a coinage after the Greek terms phantasma <\/em>(\u2018ghost\u2019, but also \u2018image\u2019) and agoreuein <\/em>(\u2018to speak\u2019), fantasmagorie <\/em>can be equally understood as a \u2018dialogue with ghosts\u2019 or a \u2018summoning of ghosts\u2019, but also (more audaciously, perhaps), as a \u2018ghostly talk\u2019. \u2018Twelve o\u2019clock, really began to talk ghostly\u2019, would write Polidori in his journal, thereby cryptically making reference to the very title of the book that had given rise to it all.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Like Robertson\u2019s phantasmagoria shows, Fantasmagoriana <\/em>played with the ambiguity between supernatural and mental ghosts, illusion and reality, theatricality and disenchantment. The subtitle, in particular, was a little masterpiece of ambiguity, by announcing a \u2018recueil d\u2019histoires d\u2019apparitions, de spectres, de revenans, fant\u00f4mes, etc.\u2019 (\u2018collection of stories of apparitions, spectres, revenants, ghosts, etc.\u2019); indeed nowhere \u2013 with the exception of a winking epigraph from Horace, in which the book was said to \u2018fill the heart with deceitful terrors\u2019 (falsis terroribus implet<\/em>) \u2013 did the paratext signal that it was actually a literary <\/em>book. The editor declared himself to be just \u2018un Amateur\u2019, and the text to have been translated from the German \u2013 which, in France as much as in England, was a label indicating whatever could be uncannily foreign, and overall a synonym for Gothic. No indication was given about the authors of single tales, nor about their original sources.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The \u2018Amateur\u2019 was Jean-Baptiste Beno\u00eet Eyri\u00e8s, a geographer from Marseille who, at that time, was already forty-five years old. He spoke nine languages, and had an excellent knowledge of Germany and its culture (in 1804 Napoleon and Talleyrand had sent him to mobilise the French \u00e9migr\u00e9s in that country); Fantasmagoriana <\/em>was a sort of divertissement from his real activity, that is to say geography and travel writing, but surely it was a well-planned book, aimed at presenting a fashionable and up-to-date literary genre to the French public. Five tales out of ten had been published just one year before, within the first two volumes of the anthology Gespensterbuch <\/em>(literally, \u2018Book of Ghosts\u2019) printed in Leipzig by the publisher G\u00f6schen; one of them, \u2018La Chambre noire\u2019 [(or. \u2018Die schwarze Kammer. Anekdote\u2019), had been conceived as a sequel to Heinrich Clauren\u2019s \u2018La Chambre grise\u2019 (or. \u2018Die graue Stube (Eine buchst\u00e4blisch wahre Geschichte\u2019), which had appeared in 1810 in the Berliner newspaper Der Freim\u00fcthige<\/em>, and was equally included in Eyri\u00e8s\u2019s anthology. The editors of Gespensterbuch<\/em>, and the authors of the majority of tales selected by Eyri\u00e8s, were two writers coming from Saxony, Johann August Apel and Friedrich August Schulze, the latter under the pseudonym of F. Laun. Fantasmagoriana <\/em>also included a tale by Apel, originally appeared in the 1810 volume Cicaden<\/em>, and by a long piece extrapolated from Johann Karl August Mus\u00e4us\u2019s Volksm\u00e4rchen der Deutschen<\/em>, an anthology of German fairytales published between 1782 and 1786. A varied, albeit consistent corpus (all authors came from Eastern Germany, besides the cradle of German Romantcism) crossed thus the Rhine, also crossing, immediately afterwards, the Channel: if the Diodati company would read the French text, as early as in 1813 the thirty-two year old Sarah Elizabeth Brown Utterson, the wife of the antiquarian and collector Edward Vernon Utterson, translated a huge part of Eyri\u00e8s\u2019s anthology, entitling it Tales of the Dead <\/em>and publishing it with the Londoner bookseller White, Cochrane and Co.<\/p>\n

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\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sarah Utterson too decided to remain anonymous: her translation, she would write in her brief \u2018Advertisement\u2019, had been \u2018the amusement of an idle hour\u2019. Utterson suppressed three tales, adding one on her own \u2013 entitled \u2018The Storm\u2019, and presented as \u2018founded on an incident similar in its features, which was some years since communicated to me [\u2026] as having actually occurred in this country\u2019; she significantly abridged Mus\u00e4us\u2019s \u2018L\u2019Amour muet\u2019 (or. \u2018Stumme Liebe\u2019), translating it as \u2018The Spectre-Barber\u2019, and added to each tale epigraphs taken from the British literary tradition, especially from Shakespeare. The targeted use of quotations had become a customary practice in Gothic fiction since M.G. Lewis\u2019s The Monk <\/em>(1796), and indeed all Utterson\u2019s choices seem to aim at captivating the British reader by connecting with that national tradition: although, she writes, \u2018the multitude of contemptible imitations\u2019 of Ann Radcliffe\u2019s novels has ultimately nauseated readers, whose \u2018want [\u2026] at length checked the inundation\u2019 of this flood of books, perhaps stories such as these \u2018may still afford gratification in the perusal\u2019. By so doing, Utterson\u2019s anthology marks the entrance of Fantasmagoriana <\/em>into the more mature literary market of Georgian England, but at the same time it corresponds to the domestication of the French anthology into the more normative categories developed by that market in terms of genre: indeed, Tales of the Dead <\/em>is a fully Gothic book, as the title makes explicit in avoiding every reference to phantasmagoria, and hence to the sphere of artifice and deception. While Utterson\u2019s cuts transform \u2018L\u2019Amour muet\u2019 into a veritable ghost story, by isolating within a much more complex tale the only supernatural element, she also suppresses precisely those stories \u2013 Schulze\u2019s \u2018Le revenant\u2019 (or. \u2018Der Geist der Gestorbenen\u2019), \u2018La Chambre grise\u2019, and \u2018La Chambre noire\u2019 \u2013 in which the supernatural was explained with natural causes, thereby eroding the constitutive ambiguity between reality and deception that had formed the backbone of Eyri\u00e8s\u2019s anthology.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In France, Fantasmagoriana <\/em>had instead been produced and received in a very different context, as testified by the publication, within the space of ten years, of at least three works that try to ride the crest of its popularity by echoing its title: J.P.R. Cuisin\u2019s Spectriana<\/em>, published anonymously in 1817; Gabrielle de Paban\u2019s D\u00e9moniana<\/em>, of 1820; and Charles Nodier\u2019s Infernaliana<\/em>, appeared in 1822. Tellingly, all these works explicitly refuse to be labelled as fictional books, and are rather collections of stories relating supernatural or uncanny events, mostly looted from such eighteenth-century repertories as the treatises on occult phenomena by Augustin Calmet or Nicolas Lenglet du Fresnoy, but also from Gothic or fantastic fiction (from M.G. Lewis to Jan Potocki). In particular, publishing his book, Cuisin is concerned about specifying how his work differs from the<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

foule de rapsodies connues sous le nom de manuel des sorciers<\/em>, fantasmagoriana<\/em>, etc., qui ne m\u00e9ritent pas plus de cr\u00e9ance que d\u2019estime. On nous pardonnera sans doute d\u2019avoir pris un titre aussi futile que celui de spectriana<\/em>; c\u2019est un tribut que nous avons pay\u00e9 \u00e0 la manie de l\u2019\u00e9poque o\u00f9 nous vivions.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[crowd of rhapsodies known under the names of The Wizard Handbook<\/em>, Fantasmagoriana<\/em>, etc., which do not deserve more credit than they deserve appreciation. It shall doubtlessly be pardoned to us if we have chosen such a frivolous title as Spectriana<\/em>: it is the tribute we paid to the mania of the age we are living in]<\/p>\n

 <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

This consideration is very interesting, as the \u2018mania\u2019 of the age Cuisin is referring to is not exactly what one might expect. Indeed, unlike Utterson, Cuisin is not complaining about the flood of Gothic and supernatural fiction, but rather about the vogue of scientific entertainment that had been proliferating in revolutionary France, and which had resulted in the massive publication of amateur works aimed at disseminating scientific and pseudoscientific knowledge to the broader public. Most of these works discussed issues that were very popular at the time \u2013 including electricity, ventriloquism, automata, animal magnetism\/mesmerism, and occultism \u2013 and proposed entertaining ways to make experiments with science. Such is the case of the Manuel des sorciers <\/em>Cuisin mentions, which is in fact a compilation of mathematical and arithmetic curiosities, enriched with a great number of magic tricks and parlour games involving numbers; in the subtitle, the anonymous author specifies how the book belongs to the genre inaugurated by Henri Decremps\u2019s claimed La Magie blanche d\u00e9voil\u00e9e<\/em> (1783 and 1784), namely one of the most famous eighteenth-century handbooks of stage magic. In other words, Fantasmagoriana <\/em>may be assimilated, on the one hand, to the many works dealing with supernatural beliefs that proliferate in post-revolutionary. On the other, it may be equated with books, such as Le Manuel des sorciers<\/em>, dedicated to conjuring and illusionism, and to mixing popular science with entertainment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

From this angle, rather than a repertoire of images and themes nourishing \u2013 to a more or less extent \u2013 the literary outcomes of Diodati, it is interesting to read Fantasmagoriana <\/em>as a veritable imagination-triggering engine, which, by moving on the edge between reason and credulity, illusion and reality, science and the supernatural, invites to explore a little bit further the limits of possibility, and turn a story-telling parlour game in a rainy summer into new patterns of invention.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The ‘On This Day’ series continues with a post by Fabio\u00a0Camilletti on Fantasmagoriana,\u00a0celebrating exactly 200 years since the Shelleys, Byron and Polidori held their now infamous ghost story competition during… Read more »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"pagelayer_contact_templates":[],"_pagelayer_content":""},"categories":[17],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1214"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1214"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1214\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1230,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1214\/revisions\/1230"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1214"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1214"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bars.ac.uk\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1214"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}