After the fall
Quentin Bell Augustus John A Biography, Volume II: The Years of Experience Michael Holroyd (Heinemann £5.25) The Seventh Child Romilly John (Jonathan Cape £3.95) "A little judicious levity" is a very helpful quality when one tries to form a picture of .a character such as Augustus John. John, even in his old age, is not an entirely tragic figure; but it is hard, reading this second volume of Mr Holroyd's biography, not to regard him in that light. The illustrations set the tone of the book: when John was photographed, or when he made a picture of himself, he stares with gloomy horror at posterity and it is only too easy to forget that this was not his habitual expression. It was at the moment when he was being immortalised that he appears to have been overcome by a mood of angry despair, nor Is it hard to see why. Immortality was something that he had in some way muffed and he was quite clear-headed enough to realise that he had done so, even though he lacked the ability to put matters right. After the first world war his epoch of fame and promise was over; he was no longer an innovator and, what was more serious, he failed somehow to consolidate his style as a painter. He painted feebler and feebler portraits, he attempted but could not finish a few "machines" in the grand manner; he had become, so far as the young were concerned, a discredited member of the Establishment. The charge is one which Mr Holroyd seeks to refute; John, he asserts, behaved so oddly when he was painting Portraits that one may say that his methods resembled those of an action painter rather than a royal academician; again, his affection for the American negroes and his views on Prohibition were "scarcely the tones of a new Sargent." The arguments sound a little thin but the case is sound; John had, to the last, a sense of style which showed itself in his conduct if not in his painting and a generosity in his political views which did prevent him from becoming, in a political sense, a reactionary and a conformist; his fall from grace was entirely aesthetic.
How great a fall that was must be a matter of opinion. If one accepts his biographer's estimate of the youthful John, then indeed it was prodigious and Lucifer himself could scarcely have fallen further or fared worse, but on other reckonings it was not so very dreadful a tumble. On this view, John's calamity arose from the fact that, despite his amazing ability as a draughtsman, he had not really talent enough to give him staying power. But Presumably, John's own estimate was nearer to Mr Holroyd's than to mine, and even if it were not, with what measure of philosophy can anyone who in his youth has been compared to Rubens and to Michelangelo, contemplate an old age in which one's achievement is measured against that of Orpen and McEvoy? For John, Who was no philosopher, the tragedy was real enough and he took refuge from fate in girls, in whisky and in the not unpleasant social life of Alderney Manor, a life which Mr Holroyd describes very well and with fewer lapses into Holroydese than in Volume One. All the same I do wish that he would consult a dictionary and discover the meaning of the word "allergy" and am not perfectly happy when he tells us that the Victorian relish of power, which had magnificently raised up the Empire, was deflowered." Does he really mean it? The temptation, which is here avoided, to
make of John's career a kind of moral fable must be strong; all the stronger because fate provided John with a sister whose artistic career is almost the opposite of his. For a while John had all the brilliance and dash in the world, and all the qualities which make for popular success, Gwen, an artist without panache or facility, with nothing but a deep feeling for nature and for her art, quietly and perseveringly plays the tortoise to his hare. In the end it is the poor in spirit who inherit the earth, as John himself was great enough, not only to see but to acknowledge. Why, in fact, at this season of Johanine celebrations, are we.not writing books and organising exhibitions devoted to her rather than to him? The answer, so far as Mr Holroyd is concerned, is clear. He pointed out at the beginning of his first volume that he was not writing an "art book," he was writing a biography; I imagine that Augustus is much more interesting than Gwen from a strictly biographical point of view. It is only those who insist that a biographer should be a critic and indeed an eulogist, who may complain that he has gone to tim wrong John. Nevertheless, in all the pother and publicity, it would be agreeable to see a well illustrated monograph on one who is almost as greatly underrated as Augustus is overrated. Perhaps this is being done and it has escaped my attention, but it seems rather that the publishers intend to offer us another helping of Augustus, this time his autobiographical writings, useful source material no doubt, but, at a time when we have been given so much biography, supereroga ory. It is no doubt as a result of the same qui( Kening of interest that a new edition of Rom ;II} John's The Seventh Child has been issued after an interval of more than forty years. It is a book of which Mr Holroyd made considerable use in his present volume and it is indeed a very rich source. In almost any autobiography those opening chapters which deal with childhood and adolescence are the most readable. Memory automatically preserves those details which are particularly poignant and telling, while distance gives objectivity to the record. Mr Romilly John deals entirely with this early period of his life and, in addition, he is always easy and pleasant to read and sometimes genuinely poetical. The book provides an admirable account of the great John tribe in its !later years, as seen from within. It was an unusual and in many ways a very enviable environment in which to begin life. Not however without its disadvantages, the author tells us how, at a time of religious conviction, he used to add a special clause to the Lord's Prayer to the effect that Dorelia might be brought by divine intervention to wear proper clothes and that Augustus might stay away from the school sports. Romilly John has a quiet humour which is not only valuable in itself, but which makes one understand the temper of the tribe in which he was reared. Take, for instance the following account of a fight which took place at a party in Mallord Street when Augustus came to blows with Horace de Vere Cole.
All the visitors immediately stamped upstairs to see fair play, and there, sure enough, were Horace and John locked in each other's arms. A tall gentleman in naval uniform, and debarred, I believe on that account from participation in the fray, stood over the prostrate bodies incessantly repeating, "John! John! John!" — I cannot think why, unless he had something important to say and was afraid he would forget it if he could not bespeak John's attention pretty soon.
The incident is charmingly described, but more importantly, it somehow gives a convincing idea of the spirit of chaos, inconsequence andfun which, no less than tragedy, was an ingredient of John's life and of the circle in which he moved in later years. This is a most attractive book and all the better for a little judicious levity.
Quentin Bell is Professor of the History of Fine Art at the University of Sussex
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