Once more we are obliged to consider statues. The name of Eric Gill (1882-1940) has come before us – and not for the best of reasons. Guildford Cathedral staff are reviewing his sculptures adorning the cathedral on account of his gross domestic misbehaviour – including incest and bestiality. His sculptures at the BBC have been damaged. Gill is otherwise known for his exquisite typography that has graced our public life.
We run here into a well-known dilemma in 19th and 20th century Britain. Yeats described it as the choice between perfection of the life and of the work. It was necessary to make a choice between being a saint and being an artist. Artists and others were often accustomed to taking opiates, Thomas de Quincy and Samuel Taylor Coleridge are among users. Sherlock Holmes became a famous – even though non-existent – addict.
It often happens that a man’s work – his paintings, his music, his literary output – is at odds with his private life. We have to make our minds up about his legacy. It is likely to seem irresponsible to ban his works when his daily life contradicts what he has painted or composed or written, rather like cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face. But a reputation based on a refusal to acknowledge the mis-match stores up trouble for the future.
George Bernard Shaw addressed the problem in ‘Major Barbara’. Was it right to take money from an armaments firm to fund social work? Was it acceptable for philanthropic institutions founded on profits from quack medicines to gain shining reputation they made for themselves and their founders? And, going further afield, was it right that factory-owners should receive tributes from customers when products had been achieved by the mis-treatment of women workers?
We run into networks of problems when we consider the way that inventors, engineers, backers and others have worked together to bring prosperity to our society. We have to recognise that there are no easy answers and that most of us enjoy benefits gained by people we have never met and never shall to whom we owe at least an apology and an attempt to understand what was happening.
PRB
Holman Hunt, Millais, D.G. Rossetti came together in 1848 with three others to form the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a group of painters aiming to go back beyond Raphael to an age of simpler art. Their ideals and practice caused controversy. It was said they thought themselves to be better than Raphael. The group’s best-known painting is probably Hunt’s ‘The Light of the World’ in St Paul’s cathedral and Keble College, Oxford.
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