The Towers of Trebizond
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NEW YORK REVIEW BOOKS CLASSICS THE TOWERS OF TREBIZOND ROSE MACAULAY jl881-1958) was born in Rugby, England, into a family of eminent scholars and Anglican clerics. The second of seven children, a tomboy who hoped one day to join the Navy, she spent much of her childhood in Varezze, a small Italian sea side town, where she enjoyed considerable independence for an English child of her era. In 1894, her family returned to Britain, and after studying modern history at Somerville College, Oxford, she began a career as a writer and quickly succeeded in supporting herself as a novelist, journalist, and critic. During World War I, she worked as a nurse and as a civil servant in the War Office before assuming a position in the British Propaganda Department. There she met Gerald O'Donovan, a sometime Irish Catholic priest, novelist, and married man, with whom she had a romantic relationship which was to last until his death in 1942. Rose Macaulay was the author of thirty-five books-twenty-three of them novels-and is best remembered for Potterism, a satire of yellow journalism; a biography of Milton; her haunting post World War II novel, The World My Wilderness; two travel books, They Went to Portugal and Fabled Shore; and her masterpiece, The Towers of Trebizond. A mentor to Elizabeth Bowen and a friend to such luminaries as Ivy Compton-Burnett, Rupert Brooke, E. M. Forster, and Rosamond Lehmann, Macaulay was a well known figure in London's literary world and a fabled wit. She was named a Dame Commander of the British Empire shortly before her death in 1958. JAN MO RRIS was born in 1926, is Anglo-Welsh, and lives in Wales. She has written some forty books, including the Pax Britannica trilogy about the British Empire, studies of Wales, Spain, Venice, Oxford, Manhattan, Sydney, Hong Kong, and Trieste, six volumes of collected travel essays, two memoirs, two capricious biogra phies, and a couple of novels-but she defines her entire oeuvre as "disguised autobiography." She is an honorary D.Litt. of the University of Wales and a Commander of the Order of the British Empire. THE TOWERS OF TREBIZOND ROSE MACAULAY Introduction by JAN MORRIS NEW YORK REVIEW BOOKS New York This is a New York Review Book Published by The New York Review of Books 1755 Broadway, New York, NY 10019 Copyright© 1956 by Rose Macaulay. Renewed 1984 by Constance Babbington Smith Introduction copyright© 2003 by Jan Morris All rights reserved. Published by arrangement with Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Macaulay, Rose, Dame. The towers of Trebizond f Rose Macaulay; introduction by Jan Morris. p. em.- (New York Review Books classics) ISBN 1-59017-058-X (pbk.: alk. paper) I. Young women-Fiction. 2. Eccentrics and eccentricities Fiction. 3. British-Turkey-Fiction. 4. Women travelers-Fiction. 5. Missionaries-Fiction. 6. Turkey-Fiction. I. Title. II. Series. PR6025.AI6T69 2003 823'.912-dc22 2003021838 ISBN 1-59017-058-X Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper. 10 9876543 November 2003 www.nyrb.com INTRODUCTION THERE WAS a time when the opening line of this book en tered the common parlance of educated English and Amer ican people. Nearly everyone I knew could quote it, and "'Take my camel, dear, ' said my Aunt Dot" became a com monplace of badinage or social pleasantry. The line still gets into dictionaries of quotations, but it is years since I have heard it used in conversation. This is perhaps because The Towers of Trebizond, first published in 1956, is so emphatically a book of its own times-not a period piece exactly, because it still reads as freshly today as it did when it was written, but a book that so exactly reflects a temper of thought, a class of society, a style of humor, and a sensibility that was specific to the day. It was a sensational success when it first appeared, on both sides of the Atlantic. Fifty years on, its attitudes may seem hard to grasp, even rather mysterious: but genera tions from now, I do not doubt, the book will still be recog nized as a permanent work of art. Rose Macaulay was an upper-middle-class English maiden lady, a relative of Lord Macaulay the historian, a devout Anglican by faith, whose work appealed directly to her peers in England-and to Anglophiles in the United States at a time, so soon after the Second World War, when Anglophilia was rife there. On the surface, or in the be ginning, everything in this book seems to speak of the v vi Introduction panache of the English gentlemanly culture-the dash, the individuality, the gossipy stylishness, the latent guerrilla instinct that had been part of the national legend in the recent war. The society it reflects was tight-knit and confi dent, almost incestuous, bound together by genetics and common experiences to a degree almost unimaginable to day, and within it there was an inner comradeship of what might be called literary adventurism. Many of the young English writers of the time had found themselves in wartime derring-do, often of an irregular kind, and when the fighting was done the older literary tradition of the Grand Tour was succeeded by enterprises of wider scope. The cold war had begun, but international travel was becoming possible again, and travel writing, that old English specialty, was enthusiastically resumed. By the 1950s the Levant was all the rage, Byzantium was the fashionable addiction, and, to recall another once famous line from The Towers of Trebizond, "half the lit terateurs of England were off writing their Turkey books." It was a time of liberated self-indulgence for them, and of what Macaulay defines as "adventurous pride and resolu tion"-tinged, very often, with eccentricity. Rose Macaulay was always an eager traveler herself, and this, her last completed novel, is in some ways a great travel book. It describes, in fantasy, a journey through the Levant, and it is rich in the irony, the self-amusement, the historical awareness, the mingled tolerance and command that had been the hallmarks of the best English travel writing since Alexander Kinglake's Eothen a century be fore. It is scholarly in the best and least-pretentious sense, and it is full of excellent descriptive writing-not in the lush visual sort so admired in previous generations, but in an allusive, interpretative, sidelong manner which, ahead Introduction vii of her time, she made her own. Consider this succinct and sardonic account of passengers disembarking into small boats from a Turkish steamer: The women carried great bundles and sacks full of things, but the men carried suit-cases with sharp, square corners, which helped them very much in the struggle to get on and stay on the boats, for this was very violent and intense.... I thought that women would not stand much chance in a shipwreck, and in the struggle for the boats many might fall in the sea and be forgotten, but the children would be saved all right, for Turks love their children, even the girls. Macaulay was not merely describing what she saw, she was describing how she felt about what she saw: nowadays, when hardly any scene on earth is visually unfamiliar to any reader, this introspective technique of description is almost the norm. But in any case Rose Macaulay was writing fiction, and The Towers of Trebizond is a highly unorthodox species of novel. It is true that, in the manner of the time, it sometimes becomes a roman a clef, and hazily identified characters in the narrative must have been easily recogniz able to contemporary readers: sometimes indeed real peo ple are named by real names, and need no key at all-Billy Graham for instance, John Betjeman, or Freya Stark. But the tale of it is pure fiction, and pretty wild fiction at that. Dorothea ffoulkes-Corbett, Aunt Dot of the opening line, plans to write her own Turkey book, and sets out from England on a Levantine expedition with her camel and her niece, the narrator. Dorothea presently disappears into the implacably hostile Soviet Union with her High Church viii Introduction Anglican friend, the Reverend the Honourable Father Hugh Chantry-Pigg, a zealous proselytizer described as "an an cient bigot." Left behind in Turkey with the camel, the niece, Macaulay's own imaginative alter ego, wanders fairly aimlessly about the Levant by herself, meeting sundry ac quaintances, exploring classical sites, and enduring mildly demanding adventures, before returning to England and reuniting with Dot and the bigot (the camel, said to be slightly insane, is lodged in the London Zoo). It sounds footling, and at first its somewhat unrelenting comedy may strike modern readers unsympathetically; but gradually The Towers of Trebizond reveals itself to be something altogether different. First a strong element of religion appears. Clerics of various sects and denomina tions abound, but the pervading atmosphere is Chantry Pigg's incense-and-reliquary Anglicanism. She makes some excellent fun of its practices and pretensions (whenever Chantry-Pigg mentioned Roman Catholic missionaries, "a look of particular malevolence slightly distorted his finely arranged features"), but one feels that her heart is with it really. It was a period of English history when Doubts, with a capital D, were assailing the Established Church of Eng land, and churchgoers whose families had been faithful to its tenets for five hundred years were wondering if its convictions were necessarily true after all. Posh Anglican clergymen, who had sometimes been elevated almost to sainthood in the previous century, were now more often portrayed as figures of mockery; and it is perhaps the cen tral presence in this novel of Chantry-Pigg, not merely an Anglican bigot, but an Anglican ass too, that gives us a first intimation of the book's underlying flavor of disquiet, unhappiness perhaps.