The Wrath to Come. Gone With the Wind and America’s Big Lie

You offspring of serpents who warned you of the wrath to come. Matthew 3:7

There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered, a Civilization gone with the wind.  Prelude to the film of Gone with The Wind (1939)

… by the time you can no longer avoid thinking about your history, it has become so complex and confusing that you can no longer think about it clearly, and your morality is what is gone with the wind.
Sarah Churchwell, The Wrath to Come (2023)

American cultural historian Sarah Churchwell’s book The Wrath to Come – Gone With the Wind and the Myth of the Lost Cause or its alternative title, the Lies America Tells (tells itself” is more accurate) is a harrowing read about slavery, America’s original sin; about the civil war fought to end it; the brief Reconstruction years that followed; the lingering stain of white supremacism and racial violence; and of how discriminatory and oppressive Jim Crow laws of the late nineteenth century survived well into the twentieth with lynch law, segregation, vote suppression and the civil rights struggles of the sixties.

The Wrath to Come is also about how historiography – how historians analyze and interpret history, and how “we, the people” recall and retell history.

She quotes author and civil rights advocate James Baldwin’s essay The White Man’s Guilt:

“White man, Hear me! History, as nearly no one seems to know, is not merely something to be read. And it does not refer merely, or even principally, to the past. On the contrary, the great force of history comes from the fact that we carry it within us, are unconsciously controlled by it in many ways, and history is literally present in all we do”.

Churchwell notes how in 1935, Black writer WEB Du Bois warned “against writing history for our pleasure and amusement, for inflating our national ego”, or “using a version of historic fact, in order to influence and educate the new generation along the way we wish”. Such propaganda history is merely “lies agreed upon”, and had enabled a toxic mixture of libel, innuendo and silence to poison the well of American historiography”.

The Wrath to Come is also very much about today. Running right through the narrative are the currents and crises that culminated in the great American unraveling that led to the storming of the Capitol on January 6, 2021 – and as we know well, are yet to be fully played out in November 2024, and, as is most likely, beyond it. January 6th was, in her opinion the actualization of what Baldwin called “the wrath to come”, the moral derangement – spinning the nation off its axis. “Beyond the bars of our foolish little cages”, she writes, “a reckoning looms, at a scale we can’t assimilate”.

As an article in the New Yorker wrote recently, the pertinent issue now is not what caused the Civil War but what we should have learned from it. “January 6, 2021, is not an equivalent date in our history to April 12, 1861, but the radical Republican leaders who lived through the Civil War understood a principle that has been lost on their successors: that, if entrusted with power, leaders who commit assaults on the national government once may well attempt to do so again”. Many commentators remind Americans of the time when Benjamin Franklin, one of the original framers of the US Constitution, was walking out of Independence Hall after the Constitutional Convention in 1787, when someone shouted out, “Doctor, what have we got? A republic or a monarchy?” To which Franklin supposedly responded, with a rejoinder at once witty and ominous: “A republic, if you can keep it.”

“The past is not a prediction” Churchwell writes, “but it is a precedent, creating the possibilities for what the future will tolerate. The American future would, it turns out, tolerate a great deal”.

Gone with the myth 

Gone with the Wind shows what white America has believed – and wanted to believe – about its own history; it’ curates and cultivates America’s great white myths about itself.

Churchwell anchors her history around one of the most well known and loved stories of the twentieth centuries – the novel and the film of Atlanta author Margaret Mitchell’s epical Gone With the Wind. But while she may be deconstructing the iconic motion picture, it is very evident that the real target of her thesis is number forty-seven, whom she sees as America’s chaos personified. Whilst describing the brief and ineffective Reconstruction years that followed the American Civil War, with its “scallywags and carpetbaggers”, she gaslights “the greatest grifter the Republic has ever seen”. Like slavers, abortion and Vietnam, Trump is an issue that divides Americans, splitting families, straining the mystic chords of memory.

Within six months of its release in June 1936, Mitchell’s tale of tangled love set against the northern invasion and fall of the Old South, sold one million copies, making it the biggest-selling American novel to that date. It won a Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award, and has sold more than 30 million copies internationally.

The 1939 film adaptation starring Vivien Leigh as willful anti-heroine Scarlett O’Hara and Clark Gable as her rakish third husband Rhett Butler, won eight Academy Awards, including best picture, best actress for Leigh and best supporting actress for African-American actress Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel portrayed Scarlett’s outspoken chief house slave, Mammy, and made film history as the first black woman to take home an Oscar (although she was colour-barred from attending the Atlanta world premier).

Churchwell mounts an excoriating critique of the novel-turned-film for its denialism of the horrors of slavery and “shameless” historical distortions about the civil war and its aftermath. Such denialism, she contends, continues to divide America today.

Churchwell’s book adds a contemporary, political twist to such criticism: she argues America’s “most famous epic romance … provides a kind of skeleton key, unlocking America’s illusions about itself” and she links its sanitized treatment of slavery and promotion of white nationalism to Trumpism and the January 6, 2021, attack on Washington’s Capitol.

“When we understand the dark truths of American experience that have been veiled by one of the nation’s favourite fantasies, we can see how the country travelled from the start of the Civil War in 1861 to parading the flag of the side that lost that war (the Confederate flag) through the US Capitol in 2021.’’

Gone with the Wind advances a misleading version of American history known as the Lost Cause. This is the notion that “the Confederacy fought the Civil War (1861–65) as a principled defense of a noble civilization (the Old South) and its democratic rights, rather than as an unprincipled defense of the white supremacist system of chattel slavery … The specific rights in question were individual states’ rights to keep and trade enslaved people, but the Lost Cause skipped that part.’’

Extending this mythology, the film’s opening title cards briefly mention slavery but also refer to the Old South – which was home to four million slaves – as “a land of Cavaliers and Cotton fields,” and a “pretty world where Gallantry took its last bow.”

Similarly, she writes that Gone with the Wind “marks a cultural breakdown, the point where mythology triumphed over history’’. Therefore, “urging the erasure of Gone with the Wind would simply reinforce that … “

“… when a nation’s myths, no longer make sense of its reality, violence erupts. That is one of the many things that has happened to America. Mythmaking and misinformation have been spinning wildly through American political discourse, so they can be hard to catcher as they float, disembodied across our conversations … Like a carnival magician, myth-making points at something with its right hand while picking our pockets, with its left stop. If we stop looking where it’s pointing, we might just manage to protect our valuables – in this case a republic, if we can keep it … It turns out that the heart of the myth, as well as its mind, and its nervous system, most of its arguments and beliefs, it’s loves and hates, it’s lies and confusions and defense mechanisms, and wish fulfilments, are all captured) for the most part in inadvertently) in America’s most famous epic romance: Gone with the Wind.

… and when a country, become so lost in dreams, that it can no longer see reality, it loses its moral sanity … This book follows American history back down into the myth, to excavate what’s been buried – not just the fact that historians have carefully been long, bringing to light … but also suppressed psycho political realities. The lies, the distortions, justifications, the half-truths, the rampant projections, the cognitive dissonances, the negations, the flat denials all the stinging truths Americans don’t want to admit about ourselves that Gone with the Wind caught like flypaper …

It has often been said that America had to imagine itself to existence. Less often remarked is the corollary, that America is, in a very real sense, mainly a story the nation tells itself. That makes the US singularly subject to the meanings of stories and myths – all nations tell stories about themselves, but America has little to hold it together beyond those stories (which is one of the reasons it fetishes its founding documents). If Gone with the Wind is one of the most popular stories America has ever told about itself, then it matters that it is a profoundly antidemocratic, and a moral horror Show … judgment has been remarkably absent from the stories we tell about ourselves.

While Churchwell hopes that Donald Trump loses the November election, she is hardly optimistic about the republic’s future.  She sees the events of the last eight years, and indeed those preceding as “portents of a much deeper dislocation in American society. For over two decades now, Americans have been battered by non-stop crises at home and abroad – from the long War on Terror to Covid and the George Floyd protests – leading to what feels like national exhaustion and a deep pessimism about the future of democracy”.

 The old revolution and The Lost Cause

Gone with the Wind took a series of historical forces, and made them seem only natural

Maybe we were on the losing side. Not quite sure it was the wrong one. 
Captain Mal Reynolds, Firefly (episode 3)

From the beginning of Donald Trump‘s campaign to the turbulent end of his presidency, debates raged about whether his supporters were motivated by economic anxiety or racial animus. But in America the two are intertwined in a system of racial capitalism.

Gone with the Wind doesn’t just romanticize that system – it eroticizes it. The Lost Cause provided a genesis for modern America’s racialized economics and paramilitary white nationalism, in which racial segregation was the supposedly logical outcome of a fight over states’ rights. But the most vicious fights over these supposedly principled stances on states’ rights have always consistently been over racial power. In fact, states’ rights are almost never invoked in a context that is distinct from race. States’ rights created a fig leaf, an alibi from which white America benefits so deeply that the denials continue to this day.

Slavery was America’s Original Sin, a stain running through its technicolor grain. Over the period of the Atlantic Slave Trade, from approximately 1526 to 1867, some 12.5 million men, women, and children were taken in captivity from Africa; 10.7 million were taken aboard ship to the New World and placed in bondage in the Americas – possibly the costliest in human life of all long-distance global migrations. Four hundred years of slavery ended in civil war and a wasteland.

America’s road to the Civil War took decades. It is beyond the scope of this article. but within a month of Lincoln’s victory in the presidential election of 1861, South Carolina took the fatal step, followed over the next few months by the secession of most of the Lower South. A month after his inauguration, the Civil War erupted with the bombardment of Fort Sumter in Charleston harbour. As Churchwell recounts it, “…. once a people decides that it cannot live together or when a citizenry divides into clearly opposed blocs, it is impossible to predict just how conflict may erupt. But to say that it cannot happen is to ignore history. Even Lincoln downplayed the threat of southern secession during the 1860 campaign, not believing until it was too late that the South ever would take such a final step”.

The American Civil War claimed more than seven hundred thousand American lives, tore a young nation apart, and its echoes reverberate still one hundred and sixty years later, reflecting unresolved political fault lines that go back two centuries. years. Though the war ended slavery, there was still another hundred years of toiling towards true freedom. As Martin Luther King said, “Lord, we ain’t what we want to be; we ain’t what we ought to be; we ain’t what were gonna be, but thank God, we ain’t where we was”.

“The white South grabbed the moral high ground and clung on for dear life – while the white North met it more than halfway. By the turn of the century the south was winning the war of ideas, its big lie accepted across the United States”.

It used to be said that the South would rise again. It did, and indeed, some reckon, the South finally won the war.

Dixie rising 

Predictably, the ghosts of the American civil war have been haunting the ongoing presidential campaign and have forced their way back into popular consciousness.

Statues depicting figures from the war – and even of founding fathers or older presidents – and even the names of the schools, military bases and streets, have increasingly become a flashpoints for a real political and cultural struggle. A low-intensity war on the past is now being waged across many states, with the effect of hardening hearts and solidifying the battle lines being drawn in the sand.

In May 2024, it was reported that the Shenandoah County School Board in Virginia would restore the names of Confederate generals Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, Robert E. Lee and Turner Ashby to two local schools. The controversial reversal comes nearly four years after the names were changed.

“Residents speaking in favour of reverting to the Confederate names included Stuart Didawick, who noted that his family’s roots run deep in the community, where his ancestors received land grants in the decades before the American Revolution. “When you vote on the name restorations”, he asked board members, “will you listen to the opinions of woke outsiders who have for the most part no ties to the land, the history, or the culture of this county? Or will you listen to the voices of the people who elected you to represent them, the people whose families built and have sustained this county for generations?” To which a student and athlete responded: “I would have to represent a man that fought for my ancestors to be slaves,” adding that she would feel as if she’s being disrespectful both to her ancestors and her family’s values.

Another pervasive ghost of the Civil War, the battle flag of Dixie, has never gone away. It was long a favoured accessory above government buildings and at right wing rallies in The South, those former secessionists states that lay south of the Mason-Dixon Line. It played a cameo role in popular culture, flying in The Dukes of Hazzard, True Blood, and even The Walking Dead. The right to flaunt “the Stars and Bars”, an enduring symbol of the lost Confederate cause, and a rallying point for those who still believe the rebel cause to be just, those who take solace from an heroic defeat, and those who believed that “the South will rise again”, and indeed those who KNOW that the South has indeed risen again. For have not the white, right wing, God fearing, Clinton-baiting, and Obama-hating ‘Red’ states of the South conquered and colonized the American political system?

Failed Republican presidential hopeful Nikki Haley was governor of South Carolina, the first state to secede in 1861, in 2015, when in 2015, Dylann Roof, a young white supremacist who had draped himself in the Confederate flag, massacred nine African American parishioners at a Black church in Charleston, the state capital. Haley called for the removal of the Confederate flag from the grounds of the State House, where it had been hoisted in the early 1960s as a rebuke to the civil rights movement. When the flag came down, a ceremony that felt like the final surrender of the Civil War, little did we know that what we were actually witnessing that summer was the beginning of the white nationalist counter-offensive headed by Trump. In a strange quirk of history, he launched his presidential bid the very day before the Charleston massacre.

During the run up to the Republican primaries, POTUS aspirant and Florida Governor Ron DeSantis defended part of his state’s African American history curriculum standards that claimed some enslaved people developed skills that “could be applied for their personal benefit.” Flag-remover Nikki Haley omitted any mention of slavery when she was asked to explain the cause of the Civil War at a town hall event. It wasn’t until the next day that Haley acknowledged the war was “about slavery”. Both now failed candidates reflected unresolved political fault lines that go back nearly 200 years.

© Paul Hemphill 2024.  All rights reserved

In !955, Ella Fitzgerald was jailed for singing to an integrated audience in Texas

Author’s note

Last year, my favorite podcast The Rest is History broadcast a long but informative interview with Churchwell herself. The link is below. I also republish a review of the book and its content that first appeared in The Australian in April 2023, and the unique story an escaped slave who found his way to Australia and lived to tell his tale in print – an 18,000-word essay about slavery, titled The United States Governed by Six Hundred Thousand Despots. 

Such was my enthusiasm for Churchwell’s book, I transcribed many of what I considered to be memorable and cogent quotes.  They are categorized and listed immediately after the following videos.

For other posts in In That Howling Infinite about the American Civil War, see Blind Willie McTell – Bob Dylan’s Americana, Cross the Green Mountain – Bob Dylan’s Americana, Rebel Yell, Land of the fearful – home of the heavily armed, and regarding American Fascism prior to World War II, see The Shoah and America’s Shame – Ken Burns’ sorrowful masterpiece 

Like my father before me
I will work the land
And like my brother above me
Who took a rebel stand
He was just 18, proud and brave
But a Yankee laid him in his grave
I swear by the mud below my feet
You can’t raise a Kane back up
When he’s in defeat
Robbie Robertson, The Band

Churchwell quotes …

The Dixie Dreamtime

The story is cloaked in self-delusion far worse than Scarlet’s, and the film – which recognizes the novel’s flaws more clearly perpetuated these solutions out of commercial interests. This modern myth affirmed all the nation’s favorite illusions about itself, up to and including its faith in its own innocence – and then sold that bill of goods to all and sundry, making a fortune in the process. Scarlett’s blinkers are typical too – the willful ignorance in which American popular memory likes to trade. What she couldn’t or wouldn’t see is the subject of the rest of this book …

… the savage viciousness of Jim Crow produced the consoling legend of a noble land of Cavaliers, and ladies, who presided over loyal servants, with gentle benevolence, which would become America’s favourite story for decades to come. Listen closely to what a culture keeps telling itself, and you’ll know not only what’s on its mind, but what it needs to hear. Gone with the Wind told Americans that they could survive anything, especially if ignored it … the denialism of American culture (is) its refusal to face facts, to recognize that what it tells itself simply isn’t true …

Even as white Americans were sharply censoring the rise of Fascism in Europe, traveling to Spain to volunteer against Franco’s army, they were also longing for the good old days when the United States have enslaved millions of non-white Americans …

Good stock

Slavery was abolished by the war, but white supremacism was not. The problem was that white Americans could abhor slavery, and fight a war to end it, and also abhor Black people. They could believe that slavery was a moral abomination, and also believe in eugenicist racial science that claimed non-white people were biologically inferior to white people, and that racism was the natural order of things, even if slavery was not …

Gone with the Wind appeared a mere decade after the Scopes Monkey Trial took Darwinism to court to try to deny that humans will be related to apes. The immense anxiety sparked by this idea was bound up in older racist tropes which held the Black people were apes and white people were human. Proof that white people were also descended from apes challenged the racial hierarchy …

Once white people were forced to concede that they might’ve come out of jungles two, scientific gracious, and sort through that they had emerged much earlier, and how much farther and Black people

Playing along with lesser folks, taking from them what you can, and then, kicking them to the curb, is also the secret of social Darwinism, which is inextricable from the novels racism. Both preach survival of the fittest, defining fitness through biological determinism, as heritable traits that mean survivalism is a question of innate character rather than environmental good fortune These ideas are fundamentally eugenicist, claiming not only that some humans “stock” is biologically superior to others, but that such groups come racially and ethnically presorted. Presumptions of lesser and greater beings, the right of merit to rule, was at the heart of the argument: an aristocratic entitlement to title that claimed privilege was founded on inherited superiority, rather than brute force or the dumb luck of circumstance … the notion of “good stock” and “breeding” that underpinned scientific racism …

In the wake of first first world war and the Russian revolution, the “red scare” enabled the second Klan to maintained its white supremacism but expanded its list of enemies to include most foreigners, especially Catholics, Jews, eastern and southern Europeans, as well as communist, socialist and labor organizations, all of whom it generally equated. This broad, stroke nativism was strongly eugenicist, promising to protect the “pure stock” of white American Protestantism from the racial “pollution” of mixing with inferior breeds …

Heirs to the white supremacist cause, the replacement theorists, Tucker Carlson, Kyle Rittenhouse. Fox host Tucker Carlson professed to be “shocked” that “seventeen year olds with rifles decided they had to maintain order when no one else would”. This is precisely the alibi that was always offered for white supremacist violence, straight out of Gone with the Wind and the newspaper lynching reports that that accompanied it. Scapegoating makes violence redemptive, as savagery is projected onto its victims, who deserve what they’re getting. The Klan was a group shaped around projection and scapegoating. Apologists of white supremacist from Thomas Dixon and Margaret Mitchell to Tucker, Carlson and Ann Coulter to the hyper partisan mob that stormed the Capitol all insisted that they were defending “extralegal justice”, as if extralegal were not just another word for illegal …

History is endlessly revised, even when it’s been chiseled in stone. Newly discovered facts can improve our understanding of the past, and sometimes people even ask new questions about the same old facts.

… Black Americans are left arguing that they are the ones owed by a nation which is yet to redeem the promises it made to the makes to them. That is the entire import of Dr. King’s 1963 “I have a dream” speech, a metaphor of redemption that he makes explicit, and explicitly economic: “we’ve come to our national capital to cash a check”, King said, on the “promissory note” signed by the architects of our republic, a promise of “unalienable rights” to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”. But America has “defaulted on this promissory note” King charged. “America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds” .

… the seed of white grievance, a nostalgic, resentment that perceives only loss of individual power, refusing to consider the question of collective equality. Grievance is the politics of narcissism, the refusal to shift your ground, nursing your grudges, building spite into politics, while telling your enemies to move on in the interest of unity, a unity in which you do not believe, and which you have no intention of compromising.

Women’s rights and suffrage

Mitchell was outraged that Blacks could vote and women could not … Real estate was also entangled with women’s rights, as women gradually bou property and paid tax, but still could not vote. Her mother argued the women’s suffrage, and is very terms woman paid taxes, but we’re not allowed to vote drunken bums on the sidewalk because they were men that they haven’t paid a dime when titled to vote, and we are not …

White wealth through property ownership is what Gone with the Wind wants to exult – while trying, less than successfully, to ignore the role of slavery and it’s aftermath in the creation of that wealth.

Gone with the Wind Shows how the mythology of American success stories, including those of immigrants, were also inculpated in the bloody history of institutionalized slavery. The triumphalism of the end of the immigrant success story has worked to school the question of complicity, the suppose and dog in this town, making good does so at the expense, And More, senses of one, of an entire Other, racially marked, underclass.

Fascism and the kloning of the Klan

My summary: Fascism as represented by the KKK and the plethora of “clothes line” political groups distinguished by a colourful array of shirts was characterized by an American nativism, xenophobic, and white supremacist, conspiratorially anti-Semitic and anti-communist paramilitary groups, leveraging existing bigotries on behalf of state violence, consolidating power for one small group, while dehumanizing, persecuting, and annihilating – the eugenicist exultation of certain “bloodlines” of over others, white grievance displaced onto racialized enemies within.

Fascism as represented by the KKK and the plethora of “clothes line” political groups distinguished by a colourful array of shirts was characterized by an American nativism, xenophobic, and white supremacist, conspiratorially anti-Semitic and anti-communist paramilitary groups, leveraging existing bigotries on behalf of state violence, consolidating power for one small group, while dehumanizing, persecuting, and annihilating – the eugenicist exultation of certain “bloodlines” of over others, white grievance displaced onto racialized enemies within.

The affinities between the second Klan and European fascism had only grown clearer since they are simultaneous start in the early 20s, with their shared cults of paramilitary violence, legal apartheids, eugenicist, ideologies, and paranoid cultures … a mast native about the sacredness of the course, the purity of the nation, and the exultation of violence to defend against the enemy within.

… there is a strong case for the fascism of the Klan with its paramilitary violence, it’s extra-legal assertions of power, it’s uniforms and rituals, it’s love of esoterica, its nostalgic racial fantasies, its conspiracy theories, and its existential rejection of the legitimacy of any government that opposes it, as historians of fascism pointed out … It was ennobled by myths of national purity, performed by masculinist cults of the leader, and sold as the will of the people.

Robert O Paxton, in the five stages of fascism, characterized it as a politics, “marked by obsessive preoccupation with community decline, humiliation, or victimhood, and by compensatory cults of unity, energy, and purity, in which a mass based party of committed nationalist militants, working in un easy, but effective collaboration with traditional elites, abandons democratic liberties and pursues, with redemptive violence, and without ethical or legal restraints, goals of internal cleansing and external expansion“.

The Black and brown shirts of European fascism were met by America’s own clothesline politics, all declaring sympathy with European fascism and espousing the rights of the white Christian American herrenvolk to dominate their nation too. The American right wing “haberdashery brigade” includes silver shirts, white shirts, dress shirts, and gray shirts. They were joined by the black Legion, the order of ‘76 and as well as Cristo-fascist groups, including defenders of the Christian faith and the Christian Front, whose members called themselves the brown shirts. The Friends of the Hitler movement, the official Nazi Association in America, was established in 1933, eventually becoming the German American Bund.

Denialism it had nothing to do with European Fascism ….

Racial bigotry in America, the times insisted, was just unthinking in the good, old, thickheaded, prejudiced, irrational human fashion. Whether unthinking racism is preferable to thinking racism is probably immaterial to its victims, as if lynching would be less objectionable if it weren’t defended on the grounds of rationality … i.e. white supremacism was just good old thickheaded American prejudice.

If Gone with the Wind is broadly fascistic in its outlook, the lost cause is even more so, in its glorification of the confederate causus belli, the cults of its leaders of its dead, its propaganda, it’s wars for territorial expansion, and the insistence on the sacred rebirth of the nation in the ashes reconstruction, the new order founded on the ongoing defiance of the federalist government of the United States, and a fundamental rejection of pluralist democracy.

A collection of material at Ferris State’s Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2004. Jim Prichard/AP

The Grapes of Wrath

Eight months before the film premiered in Atlanta, John Steinbeck published the grapes of broth, which would become the most popular novel of 1939. Widely hailed as a testament to human endurance, the novel took its title from the battle hymn of the Republic, Julia Ward Howe’s mighty Civil War anthem …Howe’s Bible steeped language comes from the book of revelation, in invoking divine Justice, when God’s truth will force the wine of freedom from the grapes of wrath. It is an image of anger, accumulated, even cultivated, long march of times.

What defined fascist propaganda was never its lies, wrote Hannah Arendt in 1945, for all propaganda is based on lies. What distinguishes fascist lies is that they are intended to negate reality, making “that true, which, until then could only be stated as a lie”. Fascists don’t lie to deceive; they lie to change reality. Lies about the Lost Cause did just that, using fiction to displace reality until the fiction has become a reality. Soon that fiction spread beyond the cult of true believers, normalizing itself in the body, politic for the best part of the century, a cancer legitimating unreason that metastasized long ago Mythology replaced history as the arbiter of American truth.

Line is not only the Hitlerian big lie of propaganda, but a culture of perversive, lying, what a Arendt called “lying as a way of life” and “lying on principle”. It is a systematic dishonesty that destroys the collective space of historical-factual reality.

The Birth of a Nation

In February 1915, upon viewing The Birth of a Nation at a special White House screening, President Woodrow Wilson reportedly remarked, “It’s like writing history with lightning. My only regret is that it is all so terribly true. This line has appeared in numerous books and articles over the past seventy years. But it was appended twenty years after the event to add a spurious authority- from a former president no less – to the mythical account of reconstruction told in the birth of a nation that gone with the wind recycled, creating a very efficient closed circle of mythmaking.

The Birth of a Nation, by all accounts the first American blockbuster, the first historical epic, the first Hollywood film to resemble what movies are like today, premiered in Los Angeles exactly 100 years ago on Sunday. But the centennial won’t be celebratory. It will likely be awkward, sobering even — because in director D.W. Griffith’s 12-reel Civil War saga, the Ku Klux Klan members are the glorious heroes.

Since its premiere on Feb. 8, 1915, the film has been at once wildly popular and widely condemned. It inspired the revival of the KKK but also galvanized what was then a nascent NAACP into action. It helped define what cinema means for American audiences. It was the first film ever shown inside the White House.

After 100 years, it has left a complicated, powerful legacy, but a legacy of what, exactly?

“Excuses are sometimes made by scholars of film for the content, but I don’t think that for the last ten to 15 years there has been any doubt that this is an unequivocally, viciously racist film,” says Paul McEwan, Associate Professor of Media and Communications at Muhlenberg College. McEwan has been studying and writing about the history of Birth of a Nation for 12 years. “I mean, this film makes Gone With the Wind look very progressive.”

Griffith claimed to be filming history, but Birth of a Nation, based on the novel The Clansman by Thomas Dixon, features a stunning revision of Reconstruction. White actors in blackface portray members of a barbaric, sex-crazed militia of freedmen that terrorizes and disenfranchises cowering whites. Black men overtake South Carolina’s judicial system and legislature, swigging whiskey and eating fried chicken on the floor of the State House. After the blackface character Gus attempts to rape a white woman, the protagonists don their hoods and apprehend him, lynching him after their version of a fair trial. The film is ostensibly about white national reconciliation at the expense of emancipated black Americans. A title card punctuates the action toward the end of the silent film to declare, “The former enemies of North and South are united again in defense of their Aryan birthright.” Despite its objectionable content, the film remains an essential part of the discussion about American cinema because of Griffith’s pioneering technical innovations. Things that today are completely taken for granted — like close-ups, fade-outs and even varying camera angles — originated with The Birth of a Nation‘s director and crew.

From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoofbeats pound in his brain
And he’s taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide ‘neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain’t got no name
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game
Bob Dylan

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Bob Dylan, The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

In !955, Ella Fitzgerald was jailed for singing to an integrated audience in  Houston, Texas

Goosestepping back to political relevance

Artist Barry Blitt’s “Back to the Future.” In another year of political chaos, he “looks forward to depicting the pageantry, solemnity, and awe of the upcoming Presidential election”.

A slave writes to a Sydney paper

I’m trying to imagine what it might have been like to be the editor of a little Sydney newspaper called The Empire in the 1850s when a “fugitive slave” – owned from birth by the invalid daughter of an innkeeper in North Carolina – walked through the door, asking for a copy of the US Constitution.

He wanted to write about the slavery endured by whole branches of his family, and he needed the Constitution for reference.

It seems that this actually happened in Sydney in 1855. The New York Times had a story about it on the weekend. And you’re not going to believe how that story ends.

The slave in question was John Swanson Jacobs, described by the editors of The Empire (they are sadly not named) as “a man of colour, with bright intelligent eyes, a gentle firm voice, and a style of speech decidedly American.”

Jacobs had escaped bondage and made his way to Australia where he was desperate to find somebody willing to tell the story of slavery. By chance, the editors had “the last edition of the United States’ Constitution authorised by Congress” in their offices, and they agreed to lend it to Jacobs, who returned it after a fortnight, with an 18,000 word essay about slavery, titled The United States Governed by Six Hundred Thousand Despots.

The editors of The Empire agreed to publish it, and “scarcely altered a word”.

A first-hand account of slavery by an escaped slave has been found in an Australian newspaper archive.

A first-hand account of slavery by an escaped slave has been found in an Australian newspaper archive.

“The writer is in Sydney; we understand he has been among the successful gold-diggers,” they said. “We shall be much mistaken if his narrative is not read with a lively interest.”

More than 160 years later, you are being offered the opportunity to read that essay, because it has rather amazingly been re-discovered, and published in book form, and oh, it’s so harrowing.

It begins: “I was born in Edenton, North Carolina, one of the oldest States in the Union, and had five different owners in 18 years.

“My first owner was Miss Penelope Hannablue, the invalid daughter of an innkeeper. After her death I became the property of her mother.”

He describes the slavery endured by his father: “To be a man, and not to be. A father without authority – a husband and no protector … Such is the condition of every slave throughout the United States; he owns nothing – he can claim nothing. His wife is not his – his children are not his; they can be taken from him, and sold at any minute, as far as the fleshmonger may see fit to carry them.

“Slaves are recognised as property by the law and can own nothing except at the consent of their masters.

“A slave’s wife or daughter may be insulted before his eyes with impunity; he himself may be called on to torture them, and dare not refuse. To raise his hand in their defence, is death by the law. He must bear all things and resist nothing. If he leaves his master’s premises at any time without a written permit, he is liable to be flogged; yet they say we are happy and contented.”

He describes the death of Mrs Hannablue, and the sale of her slaves: “Here they are, old and young, male and female, married and single, to be sold to the highest bidder … They began to sell off the old slaves first, as rubbish; one very old man sold for one dollar; the old cook sold for 17 dollars; from that to 1,600 dollars, which was the price of a young man who was a carpenter.

“Dr Norcom, whose daughter owned my sister, bought me for a shop boy. It would be in vain for me to attempt to give a description of my feelings while standing under the auctioneer’s hammer.”

Jacobs escaped, and spent years on a whaling ship before landing in Australia. His essay was discovered just a few years ago, by an American literary scholar, Jonathan D.S. Schroeder, who came across it while digging through the Australian online newspaper database, Trove.

It is being published by the University of Chicago Press, who says accounts of slavery by the slaves themselves are exceedingly rare, and precious. They believe that Jacob was the brother of Harriet Jacobs, whose 1861 autobiography, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl is revered in the US as one of the first, first-hand published accounts of slavery, and therefore a treasure, as this essay also so very clearly is. You may read the whole thing on Trove or buy the book here.

Gone with the Lost Cause: O’Hara, Butler recast as ‘homicidal white supremacists’

The 20th century’s most famous fictional lovers had ‘profoundly fascistic worldviews’, according to an author who has mounted an excoriating critique of the novel-turned-film for its denialism of the horrors of slavery.

Actors Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh in 1939 film Gone with the Wind. Picture: Supplied

Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind

American author Margaret Mitchell expected her first and only novel, Gone With The Wind, to sell about 5000 copies. Yet from the day it was published on June 30 1936, Mitchell’s 1037-page fable about the American Civil War and the pampered, manipulative daughter of a Georgia plantation owner, was not merely a bestseller: it evolved into an enduring – and polarising – cultural phenomenon.

Within six months of its release, Mitchell’s tale of tangled love set against the northern invasion and fall of the Old South, sold one million copies, making it the biggest-selling American novel to that date. It won a Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award and has sold more than 30 million copies internationally.

The 1939 film adaptation starring Vivien Leigh as willful anti-heroine Scarlett O’Hara and Clark Gable as her rakish third husband Rhett Butler, won eight Academy Awards, including best picture, best actress for Leigh and best supporting actress for African American actress Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel portrayed Scarlett’s outspoken chief house slave, Mammy, and made film history as the first black woman to take home an Oscar.

The film’s melodramatic love story — Scarlett spends years pining for a man she cannot have — along with its elegant balls, burnt orange skies, hooped gowns and epic scenes of dead and injured Confederate troops, proved a hit with moviegoers around the world. When adjusted for inflation, Gone with the Wind, which tracks Scarlett’s journey through civil war, near-starvation, three marriages and the loss of her only child, remains the highest-grossing film of all time, ahead of Avatar and Titanic.

American author Sarah Churchwell recounts these milestones in her provocative book, The Wrath to Come: Gone with the Wind and the Lies America Tells — and goes on to mount an excoriating critique of the novel-turned-film for its denialism of the horrors of slavery and “shameless” historical distortions about the civil war and its aftermath. Such denialism, she contends, continues to divide America today.

In fact, Churchwell — one of the headline speakers at next month’s Melbourne Writers Festival — argues that society belle-turned-wily survivor, Scarlett O’Hara, and gambler turned doting father, Rhett Butler, are “homicidal white supremacists with profoundly fascistic worldviews’’. Not the kind of academic who pulls her punches, she adds that Mitchell’s novel is “about enslavers busily pretending that slavery doesn’t matter — which is pretty much the story of American history’’.

The novel and film’s depiction of loyal, happy enslaved people — neither Scarlett’s family nor their wealthy plantation neighbours mistreat their slaves — has long been criticised. “Gone with the Wind does such violence to American history that it practically lynches it,’’ black journalist Ben Davis Jr wrote in 1940.

Scarlett (Vivien Leigh) being laced into a corset by Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) in Gone With the Wind.

Scarlett (Vivien Leigh) being laced into a corset by Mammy (Hattie McDaniel)

Churchwell’s book adds a contemporary, political twist to such criticism: she argues America’s “most famous epic romance … provides a kind of skeleton key, unlocking America’s illusions about itself” and she links its sanitised treatment of slavery and promotion of white nationalism to Trumpism and the January 6, 2021 attack on Washington’s Capitol. Significantly, just months before this attack, Donald Trump invoked Gone with the Wind at a rally while complaining about the South Korean film, Parasite, winning the Best Picture Oscar. Trump said he wished America would “bring back” films like the 1939 classic: “Can we get, like, Gone with the Wind back please?’’

As an American who lives in London and writes about US culture and history, Churchwell is often asked, “What has happened to America?”, since the 2016 election of Trump as US president “dumbfounded most of the watching world’’. She writes: “When we understand the dark truths of American experience that have been veiled by one of the nation’s favourite fantasies (Gone With The Wind), we can see how the country travelled from the start of the Civil War in 1861 to parading the flag of the side that lost that war (the Confederate flag) through the US Capitol in 2021.’’

In a Zoom interview, Review asks Churchwell whether she has faced pushback over her claims Scarlett and Rhett are homicidal white supremacists. A professor of American Literature at the University of London, she grins and says: “People have noticed it.’’

She says the book hasn’t come out in the US yet – it will be published there in June – “so we’ll see what they think’’ of her revisionist history of this popular American classic.

With her curtain of long blonde hair, Churchwell cuts a glamorous figure as she delivers her rapid-fire answers, which, like her writing, are mercifully free of academic jargon. She says of her denunciation of Scarlett and Rhett: “It is a statement of fact because they both espouse white supremacism over and over and over again. So it’s not an interpretation. It is a simple description of the things that they do and the things that they say.’’

The Wrath to Come – which British critics have described as “extraordinary” and as prising opening “often jaw-dropping history’’ – documents how, when under pressure, Scarlett uses the n-word in the novel. This racial slur appears in Mitchell’s book more than 100 times but was removed from the film’s script after black cast members and activists lobbied the blockbuster’s powerful producer, David O. Selznick.

Gone With the Wind author Margaret Mitchell

In Mitchell’s novel, during one wartime crisis, Scarlett threatens to sell a young, flighty slave, Prissy, “down the river’’ and also threatens her with: “You’ll never see your mother again or anybody you know’’. Later, when Scarlett and her Tara household are facing starvation following the siege of Atlanta, she again loses her temper with Prissy, uses the n-word against her for the first time and threatens to “wear this whip out on you’’.

During Reconstruction, Scarlett refers in disparaging terms to “damned n—-r lovers” and when she starts a timber mill business, she is troubled by “free nxxxxrs’” who won’t work for her (because ex-slaves now have the right to resign). All of these racial insults are omitted or softened in the film.

As for those homicidal claims, Scarlett shoots a white Yankee deserter who invades her family’s plantation house, in self-defence, takes his money and hides the body. In the novel, she is initially shocked at her violence, but Churchwell notes how she later mused she “could have … taken sweet pleasure in the feel of his warm blood on her bare feet’’. Rhett Butler, a self-interested gambler who eventually joins the Confederacy, admits in the book he killed a Yankee soldier in a bar-room argument, and murdered a black man because “he was uppity to a lady, and what else could a Southern gentleman do?’’

Then there is the racist language of Mitchell’s novel, which is “far more extreme”, says Churchwell, “than those who haven’t read it probably imagine’’. She argues: “Gone with the Wind never once refers to Black people as people or human beings – not a single time. They are only dehumanised and generic racial categories. Black people are either (various) animals, especially all sorts of apes; or they are savages, just out of the jungle; or they are ‘slaves’, ‘blacks’, ‘darkies’, ‘pickaninnies’, ‘negroes’, ‘mulattos’, or ‘nxxxxrs’.

“ … Tara’s field hands have ‘huge black paws’ and ‘caper with delight’ at encountering Scarlett, while freed slaves run wild ‘like monkeys or small children’ after emancipation, ‘as creatures of small intelligence might naturally be expected to do’.’’

The film uses the now-objectionable term “darkies” and as mentioned above, dropped the n-word. This toning down of the book’s racism “had the perverse outcome of reinforcing the Lost Cause myth that white Southerners treated Black people courteously,’’ Churchwell argues.

For the academic and author, the novel’s racial prejudice goes beyond its extensive use of offensive words: “It’s unreflective in its racism. It thinks there’s such a thing as a willing slave without stopping to think about the fact that those two words literally mean the opposite.’’ Although slavery ended because of the Civil War, she also contends that Gone with the Wind presents America’s post-war reconstruction and new era of rights for freed slaves as a tragedy – for Scarlett, and her slave-owning plantation class.

Churchwell, who has also written cultural histories of other American icons Marilyn Monroe and The Great Gatsby, says Gone with the Wind advances a misleading version of American history known as the Lost Cause. This is the notion that “the Confederacy fought the Civil War (1861–65) as a principled defence of a noble civilisation (the Old South) and its democratic rights, rather than as an unprincipled defence of the white supremacist system of chattel slavery … The specific rights in question were individual states’ rights to keep and trade enslaved people, but the Lost Cause skipped that part.’’

Extending this mythology, the film’s opening title cards briefly mention slavery but also refer to the Old South – which was home to four million slaves – as “a land of Cavaliers and Cotton fields,” and a “pretty world where Gallantry took its last bow.”

Churchwell, who has a PhD in English and American literature from Princeton University, is not the only cultural expert to question Gone with the Wind’s use of racist terms and extreme euphemism. This month, British journalists revealed that Pan Macmillan, publisher of Mitchell’s epic, had added a detailed trigger warning to the 2022 edition, pointing out the novel “includes problematic elements including the romanticisation of a shocking era in our history and the horrors of slavery’’.

In 2020, HBO Max temporarily pulled the film in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. It has since been restored to the streaming service with accompanying videos that denounce its racial representations and examine the film’s historical context.

The African-American rapper Queen Latifah has said the film should have been permanently banned by HBO Max. “Let Gone with the Wind be gone with the wind,’’ she said. Actress and TV host Whoopi Goldberg – the second black woman to win an acting Oscar after McDaniel – disagreed. She favoured educating viewers on the film’s context, adding: “If you start pulling every film, you’re going to have to pull … a very long list of films.’’

Churchwell’s inspiration for her book, which took her five years to write, were the American and UK statue wars. “I initially envisioned it as a much shorter, faster book,’’ she says. “ … At the same time, history kept galloping forward and Gone With the Wind kept coming into the news and Donald Trump kept pushing things forward. And so it was like it had more and more to say to our moment.’’

Sarah Churchwell.

Sarah Churchwell

She does not advocate cancelling Gone with the Wind or destroying statues. She argues it is better to place key statues of controversial historical figures in museums, with accurate contextual information. Similarly, she writes that Gone with the Wind “marks a cultural breakdown, the point where mythology triumphed over history’’. Therefore, “urging the erasure of Gone with the Wind would simply reinforce that failure’’.

Mitchell disliked nostalgic characterisations of the Old South as a land of “magnolias and moonlight’’. She describes Rhett – the embodiment of masculine virility – as “dark of face, swarthy as a pirate”, and conceived of Scarlett as a not especially beautiful anti-heroine: she was perplexed when her self-centred protagonist became a national heroine. An ex-journalist from Atlanta, Mitchell saw the adoration of Scarlett as “bad for the mental and moral attitude of a nation” and once complained: “The mythical Old South has too strong a hold on their (the public’s) imaginations to be altered by the mere reading of a 1037-page book.’’

The Wrath to Come acknowledges all this but notes that while Mitchell condemns Scarlett’s failings such as her greed and lack of self-awareness, she doesn’t challenge her racism. “Her white supremacism isn’t part of what makes her not admirable for Mitchell,’’ Churchwell tells Review.

Mitchell maintained that her black characters, including Tara’s slaves Mammy, Pork and Big Sam – the latter saves Scarlett’s life when she is attacked – behaved in a more noble manner than their white mistress. “It’s true most of the black characters in the novel are admirable in the sense they’re not evil,’’ responds Churchwell. However, she says that after the Civil War, as slaves were freed, Mitchell’s text often falsely characterised them as “a danger to civilised society’’.

Published in 27 languages, the novel has often been praised as a powerful account of the effects of war on innocent civilians, especially women, and Scarlett has been seen as a proto-feminist — a selfish but determined young woman who endures the chaos of war and flouts the stifling gender conventions of her time by going into business for herself. Former Democrat first lady Eleanor Roosevelt was a fan of the book, writing that it made the lingering enmity of the south “easy to understand … even to those who haven’t understood it before”. As a result, she sympathised, she said, with southern women whose “bitterness persisted so long” against the “northern invaders”.

Churchwell writes scornfully of this: “Even a white liberal like Eleanor Roosevelt sympathised after reading the novel not with enslaved people but with the women fighting to keep them in chains. This is what it means to naturalise a value system.’’ In our interview, Churchwell says Roosevelt’s sympathetic take “was obviously very representative of the ways that Americans read the book at that time’’.

The university professor concedes Scarlett has some winning qualities: “Vivien Leigh’s portrayal of Scarlett is one of the things that makes the film quite indelible. I think it’s an incredible performance. And she takes this character who is unlikable in all kinds of ways — is kind of stupid — and makes her a lot more interesting, charming and sympathetic.’’

McDaniel’s parents had been enslaved and she famously retorted to critics of her devoted house-slave role that she had chosen between $7 a week to be a maid, or $700 a week to play a maid. Even so, on the night she made Oscars history, McDaniel was forced to sit apart from white cast members during the awards ceremony in Los Angeles. Says Churchwell: “A lot of people now have the idea of a Jim Crow segregation in the US as being something that only happened in the south, but …. a kind of an apartheid line ran all the way across the US.’’

What about the notion Mitchell was a product of the early 20th century era, and that adult readers of her saga would understand this? “It’s true up to a point,” replies Churchwell. She says Mitchell’s contemporaries, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, also reflected the casual racism of their era, but “considerably less viciously” than she did. Unlike Mitchell, who defended her right to use the n-word, “they both evolved”.

Although Leigh’s Scarlett and Gable’s Rhett were arguably 20th century film’s most recognisable lovers, Churchwell maintains that Gone with the Wind’s historical distortions are still “vastly underestimated.’’.

“The book has always been recognised as racist,’’ she says. “I certainly didn’t write the book to be like, ‘Hey, I’ve got a revelation, ‘Gone With the Wind is racist – we never knew’.

“But the more that you go into it, the more you realise that there are ways in which we still haven’t reckoned with some of the truths about their (Scarlett and Rhett’s) positions. And (this is) despite the fact that they are both homicidal white supremacists — they just are.’’

Lucifer descending … encounters with the morning star

Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man’s soul and faith
The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil (1968)

Strange things happen If you stay
The devil will catch you anyway
He’ll seek you here he’ll seek you there
The devil will seek you everywhere.
Gun. Race with the Devil (1968)

My words appear to leave you cold;
Poor babes, I will not be your scolder:
Reflect, the Devil, he is old,
To understand him, best grow older.
Goethe, Faust

Say what you like about The Devil, he does at least give a fair price for souls. Faust got twenty four years of worldly knowledge and pleasure in exchange for his (more about him later). When Robert Johnson met him at the crossroads, he mastered the blues overnight. When it comes to music, he’s a hot fiddler – though when he came down to Georgia “lookin’ for a soul to steal”, young Johnny whupped him good. Leonard Cohen reversed this analogy when in one of his last songs, he sang “now the angel’s got a fiddle and the devil’s got a harp”. So, a warning to all: “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me” and thee.

It is said the Devil “gets all the best songs”. He also gets a good few stories, in the form of “biographies” both scholarly and light-hearted and novels and movies that range from allegory to fantasy, depicting him the personification of evil or as a clever and entertaining trickster. In some, he is the ageless hornèd one, and in others, he is just plain horny – I’m thinking here of Jack Nicholson’s scene-stealing performance in the 1987 adaptation of John Updike’s The Witches of Eastwick, all wicked grins, lecherous asides and comedic menace. That’s actually one of the better films in a catalogue of cinematic corn that features Satan, to use another of his many names, in person, through a proxy or in psychic proximity to an endangered mortal soul.

Closer to home, my friend and budding author John Rosley, published a novella called A Touch of Sulphur before he passed on in 2022. Its narrator, an incarnated Satan, boasts about his achievements on earth. He has strong and politically incorrect views, particularly regarding the Catholic Church and its clergy whom he regards as his bitterest enemies, ripe for degradation in ways only a devil may invent. I hope that his story, available on Kindle via Amazon, didn’t cause him too many problems when he arrived at Saint Peter’s Gate and knocked on Heaven’s Door.

In the interest of balance, I must note that there been plenty of books written about the old fellow’s nemesis and arch-adversary – including those claimed to have been written by or on behalf of himself. The Almighty, Our Lord, Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, Big Hughie, and more. There are, as Muslims rightly aver, a thousand names for God. Many contemporary scholars have penned biographies, and so has another friend of mine. This I actually proof-read, but it remains to this day unpublished.

The following, however, is a contemplation of Lucifer, biblical bête noir and literary anti-hero (he, like God goes by a multitude of soubriquets; but I like Lucifer best). It leans more to light-hearted than to outer darkness and neither scholarly nor theological, it is slightly iconoclastic, and, I hope, informative and entertaining. It describes my long and enduring artistic relationship with the “great tempter”, a literary fancy rather than some kind of weird bond with the evil one – neither amoral, immoral nor menacing, but more like a muse.

And …

It all began with Christopher Marlowe 

Dr Faustus. Was not that Lucifer an angel once?
Mephistopheles. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly loved of God.
Faust. How comes it then that he is Prince of Devils?
Meph. O, by aspiring pride and insolence,
For which God threw him from the face of heaven.
Faust. And what are you that live with Lucifer?
Meph. Unhappy spirits that live with Lucifer,
Conspired against our God with Lucifer,
And are for ever damned with Lucifer.
Faust. Where are you damned?
Meph. In hell.
Faust. How comes it then that thou art out of hell?
Meph. Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think’st thou that I that saw the face of God
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?
O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,
Which strike a terror to my fainting soul.
Christopher Marlowe, The Tragicall History of D. Faustus

That was Kit Marlowe, the Elizabethan playwright who gave us the story of Doctor Faust, the ambitious alchemist who “sold his soul to the Devil” – a salty tale taken up centuries later by German poet Friedrich Goethe and French composer Charles Gounod. His play is best known for his description of the legendary Helen of Troy as “the face that launched a thousand ships”: Marlowe may not have been the first to give us Faust, and nor was he to be the last. German polymath and write Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe took him in the early nineteenth century as did French composer Charles Gounod in 1859: a wonderful opera with a fabulous “soldiers’ chorus”. German author Thomas Mann published Doctor Faustus in 1947 wherein a gifted composer strikes a “Faustian bargain” for creative genius. These tales always end badly, their protagonists forgetting the maxim that those who sup with the devil should use a long spoon.

As for Marlowe, this sixteenth century “rake and rambling boy”, alleged bisexual and also government secret agent, was also an accomplished playwright, recognized as one of the most accomplished in a crowded Elizabethan field, and a master of blank verse – it’s still called “Marlowe’s mighty line”. In the perennial debate about whether or the Bard of Avon wrote the plays attributed to him, Marlowe’s name pops up as one of the prime candidates. A bit of a cruiser, a bit of a bruiser, he died in a tavern brawl in Deptford, southeast London.

It was through Marlowe that I first made a literary acquaintance with Lucifer – back in Moseley Grammar School in the mid-sixties when Kit got himself on to our A Level syllabus, and though one of our set plays was Edward II, the sad tale of a conflicted and controversial king, we were encouraged to read some of his plays. And I’ve always remembered the following exquisite demonstration of his “mighty line” as the medieval Mongol conqueror Amir Tamburlane grieves for his dying wife:

Black is the beauty of the brightest day;
The golden ball of heaven’s eternal fire,
That danc’d with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflam’d his beams;
And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace,
He binds his temples with a frowning cloud,
Ready to darken earth with endless night.

Zenocrate, that gave him light and life,
Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory brows,
And temper’d every soul with lively heat,
Now by the malice of the angry skies,
Whose jealousy admits no second mate,
Draws in the comfort of her latest breath,
All dazzled with the hellish mists of death.
Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven,
As sentinels to warn th’ immortal souls
To entertain divine Zenocrate …

The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates
Refined eyes with an eternal sight,
Like tried silver run through Paradise
To entertain divine Zenocrate:

The cherubins and holy seraphins,
That sing and play before the King of Kings,
Use all their voices and their instruments
To entertain divine Zenocrate;

And, in this sweet and curious harmony,
The god that tunes this music to our souls
Holds out his hand in highest majesty
To entertain divine Zenocrate.

Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts
Up to the palace of th’ empyreal heaven,
That this my life may be as short to me
As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.

But back to Lucifer …

Lucifer and me

I heard the snake was baffled by his sin
He shed his scales to find the snake within
But born again is born without a skin
The poison enters into everything
Leonard Cohen, Treaty

As a nipper, I was well aware of his bad reputation. Brought up Irish catholic in Birmingham, there was no way that I could’ve missed him – it was always a “him” back then and never “her”, though our childhood was replete with biblical archetypes of amorally lapsed ladies with exotic names like Salome, Delilah, and Jezebel who often had songs, plays or movies written about them. Often, they too were portrayed as “the devil incarnate”. Elvis Presley sang about The devil in Disguise. Cliff Richard whinged about his Devil Woman. Fifties crooner Frankie Laine of High Noon and Rawhide fame sang about his unfaithful girlfriend: “if ever a devil was born without a pair of horns, it was you, Jezebel, it was you!”

That business in the Garden of Eden assured us that it was a woman who had committed the “original sin” and that all women were per se “the root of all evil”. This was when Satan earned his reputation as a tempter (nice apple), deceiver (Adam needn’t know) and liar (God won’t mind), and with it, the tag “Prince of Lies”. The implication was, that, if you fucked up, like evangelist preachers today who are caught with their pants down, “the devil made me do it”.

We were taught that Old Nick, as he was called, was forever lying in wait to divert us from the straight and narrow, and that the holier you were, indefinable though that was, the greater the effort he put into suborning you and the greater the rejoicing in the infernal realms should you stumble and fall. He isn’t alone, mind; look at the vicarious  pleasure we take in seeing the high and mighty brought low by human failings, particularly politicians and clerics who lecture us on old values like family, neighbourliness, decency, courtesy, and self-control. The internet preys upon everything vile in the human spirit and can corrupt what is good into that vileness, which would certainly be the work of Satan.

A comment in the e-zine Unherd recently described this well: “… what is evil within humanity is only there because of Satan in the first place, having been the one who tempted Adam and Eve into eating the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil that placed within us the seeds of his own evil and the root of our corruption. The knowledge of Evil is what spurs us to such negative and destructive impulses, but the knowledge of Good would pull us towards something higher. This of course would be abhorrent to the Dark Prince, thus necessitating the construction of such and infernal mechanism as this to further debase and erode God’s creation, to ‘finish the job’ as it were.”

By coincidence, I was only just listening to The Rest is History podcast about Martin Luther, and Dom and Tom recounted how the Reformation’s progenitor believed the evil one to be intensely real, a clear and present danger. Rantings about Satan were virulent and often quite alimentary, featuring lots of bodily fluids. There is an apocryphal story of how one time, assailed by Satan, Luther threw an inkwell at him. another time, when during an hallucinatory episode, Lucifer appeared to him as a little dog, though an avowed dog-lover, Martin flung unlucky Rover out of the window. A sad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

But I’d never encountered him represented as an actual person. Until I met Christopher Marlowe in Lower Sixth. Along with Kit, I also met Mephistopheles, a demonic go-between tasked by Lucifer to purchase the soul of the ambitious Dr Faustus. Admittedly, M was merely the middleman, but he gave his crew a bad name and literary fame. 

About the same time, I happened to bump into him at the amazing Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery – the magnificent statue of Lucifer that stood imperiously in the centre of the central hall. The winged bronze oversized figure (11 feet tall, weighing in at 2,000kg) is Jacob Epstein’s depiction of the Archangel  Lucifer, inspired by the renowned sculptor’s fascination with John Milton’s epic poem Paradise Lost (1667). It has stood at the heart of the museum, tall, stern and perhaps androgynous, a custodian of the gallery’s collection, an affirmation of the artist’s genius, and its value to the museum.

And so it was that at Moseley Grammar we learned through the unfortunate Faustus that Lucifer was an actual person, and an untrustworthy one at that. A fellow student, whom I did not know too well, and who was in fact one of the few Jewish students, wrote a poem for our school magazine (of which I was one of the editors). I remember but the last stanza (and later in life, used it as the last verse of a song).

But my literary liaison with Lucifer did not end there. Flatting in London in the early seventies, a friend introduced be to Lucifer’s Cage, a fiery instrumental by English guitarist Gordon Giltrap (who, incidentally, grew up in Deptford, the place of Kit Marlowe’s demise). The tune and its title, and that one verse slept in my imagination for decades, until they crystallized in a song.

Lucifer, star of the morning
Lucifer, prince of the night
Lucifer falling through darkness
Lucifer cast from the light.

Lucifer sits in his wasteland
Trapped in the cage of his pride
The sirens of importunate circumstance
Reclining in ranks by his side
Plots he has made, so ingenuous.
Dangerous follies and schemes
For he has stage-managed quite strenuous
Drunken prophecies, libels and dreams.

Lucifer frets in the wasteland
Locked in a pillar of ice
We know of this only to well
We have visited him there once or twice
For his is the language of liars
And his is the honour of thieves
And he is the master of eloquence
As the last of the honest men leaves.

Lucifer crawls from the wasteland
No solace or peace or rest.
For he has corrupted the wisest
And he has co-opted the best.
And all that is good has since vanished
And with it, the fair and the true
And the silences hurting his demon heart
Are haunting, haunting you.

And the road that winds out of Meggido
Is the path that leads to the pit
For Lucifer prizes a web of disguises
He merely selects one to fit.
And the road that runs down to Jericho
Is the path that leads him to you
And the paradox searing his demon soul
Is hunting, hunting you.

So make you no truce with Lucifer
Lucifer of fiery breath
For Lucifer is treachery
And treachery is death.

Lucifer, star of the morning
Lucifer, prince of the night
Lucifer falling through darkness
Lucifer cast from the light.

The “pillar of ice”, by the way, is borrowed from the fourteenth century Italian poet Dante Alighiari’s Inferno. In his account of life after death, the ninth and last of the concentric spheres of hell, is where betrayers and traitors languish.  It is presided over by the man himself, the greatest betrayer of all, though now impotent, encased up to chest in ice, a giant, bat-winged demon with with one head and three faces. Each weeps as it chews on a notorious sinner: Jesus’ betrayer Judas Iscariot, and Julius Caesar’s backstabbers Brutus and Cassius. His wing-beats raise a chill wind that continues to freeze the ice surrounding himself and the other sinners in the Ninth Circle, a wind that is felt throughout the other circles of Hell. In contrast to depictions of the devil in Dante’s day as a cunning foe ever ready to prey on human weakness, his Lucifer is strikingly modern, a metaphor for nothingness. Dribbling and speechless, he is all hat and no horse, or more apposite, all horns and no hellfire.

The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice …
Consider now how great must be that whole,
Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul.

Doré’s Dante – Satan in Hell

Jacob Epstein’s Lucifer

Fallen Angels

So who exactly was this Lucifer, the biblical sum of all our fears?

Many Christians, whom I do not profess to be (I gave up practicing when I was good enough), believe that Satan, or “the devil” as he is commonly known, was once upon an eon ago a gorgeous angel much loved by God and named Lucifer – which means “star (or ‘son’) of the morning” – on account of his exemplary luminescence. No wonder early marketing folk got the idea of naming a brand of matches “Lucifers” – a tag memorialized in the First World War song It’s a long way to Tipperary and the soldiers’ trench superstition from the Crimean War to World War II  of “Three on a match.

He’d got tickets on himself, defied the boss and fell from grace. “Cast out into the Outer Darkness”, in fact. Hence French illustrator Gustave Doré’s striking image of him descending to Earth to fracture a cozy de facto relationship between Adam and Eve, the first human beings, a perfect pair “created in God’s image”, and thereafter to inflict mayhem upon mankind, including, as we have noted above, the concept of “original sin” which broadly defined all humanity as damned until it accepted the dominion of an almighty creator and condemned womankind to an eternity of subjugation to the patriarchy.

This assumption that he is a fallen angel is, scripturally, based the Book of Isaiah in the Old Testament of The Bible: “How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations” (14:12).

But the tabloid story that has been handed down to us through the ages arguably originated in the apocryphal Book of Enoch, written sometime between 300-100 BCE and quite popular around the time of Jesus. It was widely circulated although it was considered a heretical text by the religious authorities on account of its opposition to mainstream Rabbinical Judaism. Whilst referenced a few times in the New Testament, it was rejected by the ecclesiastical canon, (though not, apparently, in Ethiopia – to this day, a unique African outlier to Christianity, and indeed, Judaism). But it’s from Enoch that we’ve inherited most of our mythology of the fallen angels, and also, a lot of apocalyptic imagery and millenarian or “end times” belief. 

The apocalyptic Book of Enoch gave names to the Sons of God – Lucifer and his comrades, and also, a mob called the Nephilim. The eponymous Enoch understood them to be fallen angels who, having fallen to Earth, had sex with human women – beautifully portrayed in Daniel Chester French’s sculpture, which has been described as the sexiest statue in Washington DC. God, naturally, punished them, and, their behaviour, it is said, in Noah’s flood.  So, it would seem, the fall of the angels related more to sexual sin than to Lucifer’s pride.

The Sons of God Saw the Daughters of Men That They Were Fair.

An artist made a sculpture of Lucifer that was too hot for the church so it commissioned his brother. He made an even hotter one!

Regarding the above picture, a Facebook comment read: “The depiction of Lucifer on the right looks exactly like the one in my dream.  I dreamt that I was in very dark hallway or corridor and suddenly the room lit up, not a very divine bright light but more like a very dim light, lit enough to see what was going on. There was this huge very tall, partially robed angel in crimson red. He raised his hands in the air, and when he did, blood exploded out of the walls. It scared the shit out of me. I jumped up out of bed and didn’t go back sleep until the next day. Satan is definitely real, and he isn’t a red goat with horns – he’s a very tall, nice-looking angel with wavy blonde hair – and very very powerful he has wavy blonde hair sort of like Logan Paul’s (an American social media influencer, professional wrestler, YouTuber, entrepreneur, and actor). Though this may sound silly or fun,  I’m not joking. I’ve I seen this m…..f…..r in my dream! It was Lucifer!”

And with regard to artistic depictions, there is the amazing sculpture The Fall of the Rebel Angels” created by sculptor Agostino Fasolato in the eighteenth-century. Almost two meters high and carved from a single block of Carrara marble, it is a pyramid of sixty contorted figures. At the top, wielding his sword of fire, is the archangel Michael who, according to religious tradition, led to forces of light in the tumultuous battle that saw Lucifer and his rebel angels consigned to hell. It an extraordinary intertwining of bodies, depicting the falling angels at the moment of their transformation into demons. So, there they are, agonised faces, hornèd heads, and serpents’ tails, rocking and rolling, tossing and turning, tumbling down, down, down into the infernal pit.

Paradise lost

The story of the fall of Lucifer is actually underpinned by not one but two works of fiction: Enoch’s, and the English puritan poet and pamphleteer John Milton’s imaginative and lyrical masterpiece Paradise Lost (1667) which has dominated our perspective of the story ever since.

Milton gave us the first lyrically and psychologically compelling portrait of Lucifer. He was not the sly predator of myth and menace but rather, (initially, at least) an edgy seductive hero. With his fine words, theatricality and swagger, the only ostensible sign of evil within, a lightning scar on his face: “He above the rest, in shape and gesture proudly eminent, stood like a tow’r”. And yet, he winds up as a washed out up idealist and revanchist cynic, “dismay mixt with obdurate pride and steadfast hate”.

Although I was familiar with Paradise Lost, I did not read Milton’s prose opus until the late seventies, encouraged by the the work of nineteenth century French lithographer Gustave Doré who rendered the poet’s words into pictorial flesh. That’s his iconic image of Lucifer descending to Earth at the head of this story.

Sometime in the early eighties, 83 or 84 I think, my old pal and provocateur Yuri the Storyteller introduced me to Lilith.

Lilith has been around for thousands of years. In the Talmud, she is described as a winged demoness with a human appearance. She appears in the bible, in the Dead Sea Scrolls, and in Hebrew folklore, and has been mentioned in black magic treatises. The apocryphal story is that Lilith was Adam’s first wife. God made Adam from dirt and clay. Adam bored, requested a companion, and God obliged with Lilith. Legend has it that her dirt was dirtier than Adam’s, but put that down to patriarchal prejudice and propaganda. More likely, she had the dirt on him! But I digress. Apparently, Lilith was not as inferior to Adam as he wanted. She wanted to be her own person, not Adam’s wife-slave. The story is that when Adam insisted on the missionary position, Lilith refused, saying “Why must I lie beneath you? We are both equal. We come from the same earth”. Adam got mad, and Lilith took off.

Because of this, she was banished from Eden and became a spirit associated with the seductive side of a woman. Eve came in her place to stand behind Adam, not beside him. Lilith became the timeless femme fatale, preying on the easily tempted weaker sex, the fabled incubus who comes at night upon men as they sleep. It is not for nothing that she has been hailed the (informal) goddess of wet dreams.

The legends are many and various. If you buy into the Lilith theory, you will see her cropping up throughout history in a variety of guises. In biblical times: Delilah, Salome, and Potophar’s wife. In fact and fable: Sheherazade, Lucrezia Borgia, Mata Hari, Evita Peron. Hollywood’s screen ‘sirens’ like Vivien Leigh, Elizabeth Taylor, and Marilyn Monroe. All of them antitheses to secular saints like Eve, Mary Magdalene, Joan of Arc, Florence Nightingale, Jackie Onassis, Mother Theresa, and Princess Diana.

Lilith’s story deserved an epic poem, so borrowing from Milton and the opening chapter of JRR Tolkien’s Silmarillion, I duly wrote Lilith – a poem of the fall. It was attributed to a Roman poet celebrated during the reigns of emperors Claudius and Nero. It’s forward read:

“The style of Lilith differs markedly from that of other poems attributed to Meniscus – most notably the Hebrew Heroes cycle and was evidently written for a different manner of presentation. It was most likely written to be recited rather than sang (as were his other “story songs”). Recitations were a common form of entertainment in the middle Roman period, owing their popularity to the enduring reputations of the “classical” writers of the time, Ovid, Horace and the like. It was not uncommon for such recitations to last several hours. But Meniscus, mindful of the fast-moving times, and also of the attention span of his audiences, appears to have honed his pieces down to between ten or fifteen minutes”.

It debuted at Victoria’s Port Fairy Folk Festival in about 1986 in a shambolic busy poetry competition – it came first, I recall, but the event was so poorly organized that I received neither award or recognition.


It began in suitably histrionic Genesis style:

Long time ago In a time before time,
When man was an atom in primeval slime,
When darkness lay hard on the face of the deep,
God called for his angels to sing him to sleep.

I hadn’t finished with Lucifer, however. He reappeared as metaphor in a gloomy commentary of the state of humanity in Devil’s Work, published in full at the end of this article. The narrative actually came to me in a dream – though this was not the nightmarish image of the sleepless Facebook commenter quoted above:

For what you’ve done to you own kind, you’ve done of your own will.
If I went away on a holiday, you’d be malignant still.
For all you’ve done unto yourselves, you’ve done because you must –
A self-destructive legacy to bring yourselves to dust.
To render you to dust.

The implication here is that we actually know Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, because, to use a an enduring aphorisms, “we have seen the enemy and he is us!”. Many writers have implied this. In 1942, not long after his return to the Anglican faith in which he’d been raised, my favourite poet WH Auden asked a Sunday School class: “Do you know what the Devil looks like? The Devil looks like me.” As an informative piece in The Daily Beast observed, “his sensitivity and acuity as a poet made him aware that the pathologies of ideology are first manifest in the pathologies of individuals, including and especially himself, a character he never shied from satirizing or indeed using as a template for the doomed romantic or cruel authoritarian he took as the protagonist of so many of his poems”.

And finally,Lucifer is also name checked in a sprawling ballad about Herman Melville’s Captain Ahab and his obsessive hunt for Moby-Dick, the famous white whale:

Down, down, deep down we dove
In a tangle of rigging and rage –
Down to the deep where the dead sailors sleep
In the darkness of Lucifer’s cage.
From Chapter Forty One – In That Howling Infinite 

A brief satanography

The following is an updated version in the introduction to Roman Holiday: The Poems of Meniscus Diabetes (1989). Most of it is compiled from Wikipedia.

‘Satanic’ implies the old God-Satan contradiction – and yet it is a paradox. You can’t really have the idea of a universal, omnipotent a God AND a universal, quite potent black hat opposing both Him and Man.

Indeed, we tend to anthropomorphize Old Nick more than we do his rival and nemesis God, although Jesus and Satan often have their own Fight Club going in the New Testament – the ostensibly “evil one” doesn’t get much of a gig in the Old Testament, which is not to say that Jewish folklore didn’t quite ignore him, as I will explain in eccentric detail below. The Essenes of old, who left us a heap of important written material in caves overlooking the Dead Sea, bought into the idea of a conflict between the spirit Princes of Light (God, and in time, Jesus) and of Darkness (Satan – which might’ve come from the ancient Persian Zoroastrian spirit of light and wisdom, Ahura Mazda (remember the light bulbs back in the day?) the Zoroastrian present day heirs are the persecuted Baha’i of Iran (though their HQ is in Haifa, Israel. Ironic, eh?) and the Parsi in India and Pakistan, a name derived from Farsi, now the language Iran and much of Afghanistan.

Then we have the old Parthian prophet Mani who, according to Wikipedia, sought to synthesize the teachings of most of the faiths in vogue from Europe to China and all places betwixt during the third century CE. He gave us Manichaeism, which teaches an elaborate dualistic cosmology that describes a struggle between a good, spiritual world of light, and an evil, material world of darkness. It’s not an optimistic one – through an ongoing historical process, light is gradually removed from the world of matter and returned to the world of light, whence it came. The Manicheans believed that God was just, and kind, and loving. He was forgiving God who would forgive us our trespasses. It was the Devil, therefore, who had to be propitiated with prayers and amulets and so on – averting “the Evil Eye”. The Manicheans were accordingly persecuted as heretics at best, and as devil-worshipers at worst.

Lucifer, of course, derived from the Latin, meant “light”. He was, of course, an angel. In angelology – yes, there is indeed such a field of study, angels were, or are, because quite a few folk believe that they are real, God’s bodyguards (assuming he was corporeal) and cops before the Jesuits took over. They are categorised by power, authority and also, light. Lucifer was “top gun”, the bee’s knees, dog’s balls, the primus inter pares. Until he got to big for his wings and staged a rebellion.

There is a downside to doing deals with the devil, unless you’re Robert Johnson at the famous Crossroads, or successfully challenging him to a duel like the young fiddler in The Devil Came Down to Georgia or the likely lad in the old English folk song False Knight on the Road. Look what happened to the ambitious Marlowevian sybarite Doctor Faustus.

The unfortunate Yazidi people of Iraqi Kurdistan and northern Syria, ethnically Kurdish, but an ancient religion in an intolerant sea of Islam, were long accused of being “devil worshippers” because they believe that whilst God is benevolent and will not do us intentional harm, the Devil can be quite malevolent and hence needs propitiating. This was how others perceived it back in the dark day, although more enlightened times have emphasized that the Yezidi Peacock Angel is a beautiful and as benign and benevolent a deity as any other in the deities beloved of the world’s believers.

The Peacock Angel,
 Deviant Art

There was no diabolical god in the Roman and Greek pantheon – or amongst the Norse Gods for that matter. There were gods who did nasty things, but that was because they are annoyed, or angered, or moved to vengeance or malice, or even, envy and lust. These, one placated to restore them to a better humour. Nor is the Satan, the principle of evil personified, actually in the bible. This was a later construct that was read back into it. In the bible according to the poet John in Milton, the devil, whilst not exactly pleasant and delightful, is either on the side of the heavenly authorities at the least, or at the least, not destructively opposed to them. In the words of that great song out of the Brill Building, NYC, “I’m just a boy whose intentions are good. Please don’t let me be misunderstood”.

© Paul Hemphill 2024. All rights reserved

For other indulgences in In That Howling Infinite. see It’s 3am and an hour of existential angst, Blue remembered hills – a land of lost contentment and The quiet teatime of the soul

Devil’s Work

I dreamt I fought the Devil and I bound him in strong chains
To answer for our consciences, to blame for mankind’s stains;
For all pain and perversion, crime and atrocity,
I brought the criminal to trial in the name of humanity.
This bane of humanity.

In judgement of the power man who makes us fight his fights,
And the holy men in uniform who trample on our rights;
To exact compensation for his prey alive and dead.
But when I brought him to the dock, this is what he said…
He said: “I had no part on what you say I’ve done to hapless man.
He’s master of his destiny – he does the worst he can.
I did not set the fires that burn – I only tend the flames.
Men forged the swords and lit the brands, wrought carnage my name.
They conquered in my name.

“The tyrants and oppressors who jockey for control,
Are of mankind’s own substance, the product of his soul.
The torturers and murderers – in these, I had no part.
They spring from man’s perverse desires and his infernal heart.
Damn his eternal heart.

“The tyrant is not guilty and the killer has clean hands.
They are but pawns of the soul of man and the fruits of his demands.
One half of mankind does not think, the other does not care –
And the sheep go to the slaughter when the wolf pack leaves the lair.
The wolf has left his lair.

“And I am but an image, a figment of your mind;
I am but the whipping boy your hide your sins behind.
I was here before you came to Earth, I’ll be here when you’re gone.
I don’t ask your forgiveness when you’re deserving none!
My undeserving son.

“For what you’ve done to you own kind, you’ve done of your own will.
If I went away on a holiday, you’d be malignant still.
For all you’ve done unto yourselves, you’ve done because you must –
A self-destructive legacy to bring yourselves to dust.
To render you to dust.

So when you say I want to rule a realm of ash and bones,
Let he who is devoid of sin go cast self-righteous stones.
I stand upon the sidelines, contemptuous, aloof.
I won’t condemn all that you’ve done.
I may condone all that you’ve done.
I’m quite content with what you’ve done. But cause it?
Give me proof!”

The Rest is History – a gift that keeps on giving

the past is always trickling under the soil, a slow leak you can’t trace. Often meaning is only revealed retrospectively. Hilary Mantel, The Mirror and the Light

You think that you can forget the past; you can’t. The past is a living thing, you own it, owe it.”Montrose’s letter to Atticus, Lovecraft Country

The past is never dead. It is not even past.  William Faulkner

Remembering …comes in flashbacks and echoes. Taylor Swift’s Red

The past beats inside me like a second heart. John Banville, The Sea

We watch history, we make history, and then one day, we become it. Kendall Roy, Succession

I have little affection for News Corp commentator Janet Albrechtsen – a right wing culture warrior who cloaks her predictable positions with a patina of legal erudition (she does have a legal background, but a barrister friend who once worked with her described her as less clever than she thought she was). But I recently discovered that she and I actually have one thing in common. We are both big fans of The Rest is History, an excellent podcast created and broadcast by British historians Dominic Sandbrook and Tom Holland. And so, for the first, and probably the last time, I not only enjoyed one of her opinions pieces, but I am actually republishing it here in In That Howling Infinite.

Tom Holland specializes in classical and early medieval history, and Dominic Sandbrook is an informative and entertaining chronicler of postwar British history and society. I’ve read many of their books. Holland’s Roman trilogy, Rubicon, Dynasty and his recent Pax read like thrillers, and he’s also written on Persian and Islamic history. Sandbrook’s quad of books on Britain are wide-ranging and highly entertaining, covering the social and political history from the fifties though to the the early eighties.

The Rest is History is both highly entertaining and illuminating with this unlikely but erudite dynamic duo presentng wide-ranging and well-researched stories from history’s back pages served up with bad accents and impersonations and humorous irreverence regarding assorted shibboleths and sacred cows. They have fun with history and at each other’s expense – though more often it is Dom taking the piss out of Tom.

Since the first episode on Greatness aired in October 2020 during Britain’s draconian Covid lockdown, there have now been almost four hundred more – about important events and personalities, cities and countries,  political and cultural movements, and wars and revolutions metaphorical and actual. There’s counterfactuals, predictions and projections, culture wars and conspiracy theories. Some multi-episode podcasts are particularly enthralling. The story of Irish independence is one. The rise of British Fascism is another. The two part British Fashion in the Sixties is a hoot. Stand-alone episodes on JRR Tolkien, Rider Haggard and JK Rowling are likewise entertaining whilst others, like the sad story of Lady Jane Grey, “the Nine Day Queen”, are tragic. The Rest is History is a gift that keeps on giving.

Whilst Tom and Dom are certainly small “c” conservatives, I’m glad that they do not go all out partisan for the “anti-woke” brigade – there are lots of jibes at readers of The Guardian. They do, however, have no time for history and culture wars nor identity politics. We have to take our history, the good and the bad, as it comes. Many of the things we learnt at school or in our national narratives have retrospectively proven false or distorted.

When telling their tales, be they long, tall or small, they demonstrate that not all history has to be important so long as it is interesting. It’s the stories that enthrall children when they are first taught history – that is how I became passionate about it and remain so.

In the early sixties, we were introduced to the romantic, exciting, and often sugar-coated basics, and only later on did we learn that the Boer War and the Indian Mutiny for example were not that noble and glorious at all but nasty scraps with atrocities committed on all sides. Recall that corny old chestnut 1066 And All That, which I read as a lad and still dip into now and then for its perspective on what we were taught back in the day as “good kings” and “good things”. “Bad kings” were more often than not the stuff of Shakespeare, whilst there were remarkably few “bad things”, and if there were, it’s wasn’t us wot did it. As a nipper, I came across the ‘He Went With …’ books of American author Louse Andrews Kent in which a young lad (always a chap) accompanied famous explorers on their journeying. Columbus, Magellan and Vasco de Gama got a gig, as did landlubbers Champlain and Marco Polo. Ladybird Books introduced starry-eyed youngsters to those intrepid Brits Captains Cook and Scott, Drake and Raleigh. Back then, of course, we were not to know what came next: the European mission civilatrice.

In time, like St Paul, “I put off childish things”, but believe still that history can and should be fun as well as serious, and not just the bailiwick of crusty academics, history snobs and culture warriors. There’s a Canadian writer who tells stories from world history called “Sweary History” or The Day Shit Went Down – I’m sure you get the drift.

I don’t regard myself as a “historian” but rather as a longtime and eternal student, and have been thus since. I’ve degrees in history and politics. I’ve been studying history since first form, back in 1960. I’ve been filling in the gaps ever since, learning new things every day from books, journals, television, and media both mainstream and social. Today, I read history books more than any other books and always have a few on the go.  I’ll never made history, not will I make it in the time I have left on this fascinating planet, but I write about history and endeavour to increase other’s interest in and awareness of history and its importance to us all. Just like The Rest is History, indeed.

Albrechtsen’s piece coincides with the pair’s imminent visit to Australia and New Zealand to “perform” The Rest is History live. Doubtlessly, they will give us their narrative on Australian history. I look forward to hearing what they have to say about our British inheritance, the colonial legacy, and our very own history wars. Sandbrook tells her:

“Seeing history as a mirror for our own concerns  patronizes the past because it turns the past into a plaything for our own prejudices and predilections. People do get bored of these things. History, including our own of British colonialism, is more complicated, more capacious, more interesting than a black-and-white morality tale. The story of the British Empire, of Australia, they’re really complicated stories involving generations of very different people who had different motives.”

Says Holland: “Captain Cook – a goodie, or a baddie? I’m opposed to that view of history because I don’t think it’s history. It could be philosophy, it could be theology … it could be all kinds of disciplines,” but he says it is not the role of historians to make moral judgments about the past. “We’re The Rest is History, we are not The Rest is Morality”.

Sandbrook is asked what on earth  he could say that would get them cancelled in Australia.  “Maybe the big mistake was for the British to give any degree of self-government to Australia at all.” He’s joking.

See history posts in In That Howling Infinite: Foggy Ruins of Time – from history’s backpages

The Rest is History hosts say stop moralising about the past

The Rest is History podcast hosts Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook.

Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook.

How often do you think about the Roman Empire? It turns out lots of men do, and often. Or at least many say they do.

Last month, this random question began circulating on social media, with women doing the asking. The similarity of the responses made headlines around the world in the same week I was speaking with British historian Tom Holland. Surely Holland would think a lot about the ancient world?

I try out the question over pizza and wine with a group of four men on a sunny spring day on the Mornington Peninsula. One asks if Rome is code for sex. No, fellas, I mean Rome as in Augustus, bloodshed, the Colosseum, concrete, the Julian calendar and all that stuff.

All four men say, one way or another, that they think about ancient Rome most days. Seriously? The closest I come to musing regularly about ancient history is Brad Pitt circa AD2004 as Achilles. Yes, he’s a Greek, not real. Whatever.

Holland and fellow Brit Dominic Sandbrook have become superstars of history. Their podcast, The Rest is History, attracted a cult following after the first episode, released in London during the Covid lockdown in 2020. Its popularity has soared, along with the profiles of its hosts. Today the show attracts more than 10 million downloads a month, half by people under 35.

It’s not hard to see why. The two popular historians bring something different and remarkable to the telling of history. Holland, who hails from Broad Chalke near Salisbury in southern England, taught himself Greek to write a new translation of Herodotus’s The Histories. Sandbrook, from the West Midlands, is a modern historian and author of numerous books on Britain from the 1960s to the ’80s, including Who Dares Wins and a host of history books for children.

Holland immerses us in ancient stories – all magnificently foreign, rousing and grisly. As he explores the lives of Nero and eunuchs, Theodora, the Empress of Byzantium, Thermopylae and Salamis and everything else about ancient Rome or Greece, it’s thrilling.

His latest book, Pax, the third in a series, covers Roman power under emperors such as Vespasian, Titus, Domitian and Hadrian. On the last page, Holland records a scrawl of graffiti on a rock face in the wilds beyond Palestine: “The Romans always win.”

To be honest, his excitement about the subject is so palpable I wasn’t game enough to ask how often he thinks about ancient Rome. It really would have been the equivalent of asking a man how often he thinks about sex.

When I catch up with his colleague Sandbrook a week later, he teases that “the imbalance in how often Tom thinks about those two things is very, very unhealthy”.

Such is the elation in Sandbrook’s voice during his podcasts on Watergate, could it be that he thinks about Richard Nixon as often as Holland thinks about Rome? Sandbrook taught a twice-weekly year-long course on Nixon at Sheffield University. That’s a lot of Nixon. He tells me that by the end of the course many of his students empathised with the awkward, flawed man who struggled with the fact he could never be as cool as the Kennedys. But who is?

The absence of politics in their telling of history is a tonic in this exhaustingly moralising era. Those who want to corral history to suit their politics by expunging bits or rewriting parts will get a fright: neither man will have a bar of this modern obsession to overlay the past with modern filters of sex, gender, race and so on.

During Pride Week in Britain, the pair released a podcast on the intriguing story of Hadrian and his lover Antinous. Holland points out that though the alluring Antinous has become a modern-day gay icon, calling the young Greek gay doesn’t capture the time; it’s like saying Julius Caesar conquered France. The correct word is Gaul.

Similarly, in writing Pax, Holland is trying to see that world through Roman eyes. “I deliber­ately say in my introduction that I’m not going to judge the Romans by our standards,” he tells Inquirer from his home in London.

Though we might regard some of the actions of the Romans as unspeakable crimes, let’s try to understand why they didn’t see them as crimes, he says. This is the study of history.

Sandbrook predicts a younger generation will kick out the po-faced cultural curators of the aching wokeness that has imbued history. Or it will burn itself out.

“Seeing history as a mirror for our own concerns … patronises the past because it turns the past into a plaything for our own prejudices and predilections,” Sandbrook says. “People do get bored of these things.” History, including our own of British colonialism, is more complicated, more capacious, more interesting than a black-and-white morality tale.

“The story of the British Empire, of Australia, they’re really complicated stories involving generations of very different people who had different motives.”

Holland agrees. “Captain Cook – a goodie, or a baddie? I’m opposed to that view of history because I don’t think it’s history. It could be philosophy, it could be theology … it could be all kinds of disciplines,” but he says it is not the role of historians to make moral judgments about the past. “We’re The Rest is History, we are not The Rest is Morality,” he says.

If society is applying modern filters of sex, gender and race to the past, that tells us something about our own time; it says nothing about that period in history.

“One of the things that has happened since the ’60s with the collapse of the traditional biblical narratives that sustained our cultural and intellectual discourses is that people need new stories. History has come to serve people as a quarry for moral stories, it’s come to replace religious studies,” Holland says.

Speaking from his home in Chipping Norton in West Oxfordshire, Sandbrook says the worst kind of history is “the history that makes you feel smug about yourself … It smacks of smug narcissism about our own virtue.”

History should give us a sense of our own “cosmic insignificance” and an understanding that what we believe is contingent on our circumstances. “You read about all these people who lived before, who had lives of such tremendous richness and colour, and they’re all gone. And one day that will be us.

“Just as people before us believed lots of things that we now think are demented, the things that we value so highly may seem unreasonable to our successors. What history should give us is a sense of humility.”

In a similar vein, Holland says history has left him with a “nagging sense of nihilism, a sense that perhaps there is no absolute morality”.

“People across the world and throughout time have believed an incredible array of things about how you should behave, what it is to be good, what sexuality morality should be, how you should treat your fellow human beings, all kinds of things, what gender relations should be. There is no absolute right way of structuring your society. If I’d grown up as a Spartan or an Assyrian, would I believe in human rights? I would not.”

That brings us to Dominion, Holland’s 2019 book about how the Christian revolution continues to shape the modern world. Even if churches across the West continue to empty, Christian values continue to define who we are and the battles we choose to fight.

Holland tells Inquirer that at the centre of social movements of the ’60s, from civil and gay rights to the more recent Black Lives Matters, is “Christ’s great promise that the last should be first”.

“The 1960s will come to be seen as a decade as significant for Christendom as the 1520s. We are living through a process of moral and ethical and, indeed, theological change comparable to the Reformation in the 16th century. And the idea of reformation, the idea of casting off superstition, idols, opening yourself to the spirit. You get that in the 1520s, and you get that in the 1960s.

“The difference in the 1960s is that what is being cast off is essentially what you might call a conservative Christian understanding of how society should function, going to church, experiencing liturgies, Sunday schools, familiarity with the Bible.”

What remains, says Holland, are instincts and muscle memories that derive from 2000 years of Christianity. Why, he asks, did the killing of an innocent man – George Floyd – by the security apparatus of an imperial power have the impact that it did across the world? It seems odd, he says, until you remember that the foundational figure of Christ was an innocent man put to death by the security apparatus of an earlier imperial power.

There is “a kind of Christ-shaped hole in our public culture. And George Floyd kind of filled that gap for that summer of 2020.”

Holland is not a nostalgic Christian who reads history. He is a historian observing the influence of Christianity without making moral judgments. He says large swaths of Western modernity are having arguments within a Christian framework, often without realising it. Should sodomy be condemned, or monogamy be encouraged with same-sex marriage? These are Christian values, and people, by the democratic process in many countries, have settled on the latter.

Holland says the #MeToo movement is an extension of the Christian value that “the human body is not an object, not a commodity to be used by the rich and powerful as and when they pleased”.

“Two thousand years of Christian sexual morality had resulted in men and women widely taking this for granted. Had it not, then #MeToo would have had no force,” Holland writes in Dominion. He says the same “last shall be first” kind of “hyper-Protestantism push” also has infused the trans movement. With no formal church framework to arbitrate arguments, it has become “a free-for-all” where everyone is understandably trying to do it for themselves.

He adds that often these debates – not just about trans issues – become vitriolic because there is a modern revulsion against the doctrine of original sin – a tremendously democratising idea.

Once you reject that even the greatest saint is a sinner then some people will see themselves as perfect. They will be more prone to casting out those they see as not perfect. Without original sin, there is a peculiar virtue in being last, in being a victim, and there is less room for redemption as people set down their own unyielding boundaries about who is good and who is bad.

Again, Holland makes no judgment about this; he is simply observing that Christianity explains woke­ism. Not to mention our polarised modernity.

Sandbrook, the modern historian, is concerned that the “hysterical polarisation of American politics” is turning the US into a dysfunctional society as the tectonic plates of power are shifting towards a dominant Asia. It is, he says, a return to the older pattern of geopolitical rivalries involving China, India, Turkey, Iran. “These would have seemed very familiar to people 2000 years ago.” And this is happening when the centre ground of politics is disappearing in the US.

'The Rest is History' podcast with Tom Holland & Dominic Sandbrook.

‘He says once you treat your domestic political enemies as a genuine threat to the republic, when you say they are not merely wrong, they are treacherous, and we must do everything we can to stop them, then “it’s really difficult to see how you turn back without some major crisis”.

The two historians will be in Australia in late November, performing their Rest is History live show soon after the referendum about changing our Constitution has been decided. That’s right. History sells tickets at the box office, too. So how will these historians answer questions about British colon­ialism?

“Tom is so jittery,” says Sandbrook. “He said to me, ‘Please don’t say anything that will get us cancelled in Australia. Also, don’t tell the journalist that I told you this.’ ”

That Sandbrook wants me to print this tells you that the dynamic between these two men is as vibrant as the content of their podcasts. They have fun with history and at each other’s expense. Though more often it is Sandbrook taking the piss out of Holland.

I ask Sandbrook what on earth he could say that would get them cancelled in Australia. “Maybe the big mistake was for the British to give any degree of self-government to Australia at all.” He’s joking.

On a more serious note, the pair will delve into Australian history late next month when they release two episodes on Captain James Cook.

Neither Holland nor Sandbrook knew in 2020 how successful their podcast would become. Sandbrook recounts that Holland wanted the “worst title ever” for their new venture: Podpast. “It was such a terrible title,” he says, laughing. They settled on The Rest is History. And, well, the rest is history.

Though it’s also possible that a lame title would not have stopped these men becoming rock stars of history