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The dynamics of spectatorship in the first panoramas : vision, the body and British imperialism, 1787-1820 Oleksijczuk, Denise June Blake 2002

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THE DYNAMICS OF SPECTATORSHIP IN THE FIRST PANORAMAS: VISION, THE BODY AND BRITISH IMPERIALISM, 1787-1820 by DENISE JUNE BLAKE OLEKSIJCZUK B A., University of Toronto, 1983 MA., University of Toronto, 1986 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY In THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of Fine Arts; Art History) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE U N I V E R ^ j X O F BRttrgri COLUMBIA October 15, 2001 © Denise June Blake Oleksijczuk, 2001 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada Abstract This thesis investigates the dynamics of spectatorship in the panorama, a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree visual medium that Robert Barker invented and patented in 1787. The study addresses the effects of the first panorama representations on their urban audiences in Edinburgh and London in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Four chapters of the thesis explore specific panorama exhibits: the View of Edinburgh and the Adjacent Country from the Calton Hill (1788), the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (1791), the View of the Grand Fleet, Moored at Spithead (1793) and two different panoramas of the View of Constantinople (1801). As an overview and conclusion, the final chapter examines the descriptive keys for the panorama views produced by Barker and his son between 1793 and 1820. The approach the thesis takes involves examining the tensions at work in the relations of exchange between the panorama as a new visual medium and its urban viewers. At issue is the point of exchange between the dictates of the panorama's visual form (that is, its subject matter and the potential viewing positions established by its cylindrical format), and the multiple usages and appropriations by its spectators. My thesis argues that by transporting its spectators to other places in the city, country and world beyond Britain's borders, the panorama created a spatial and temporal disjunction between a 'here' and a 'there' that became a crucial locus for the formation of new identities. As I show, the viewing process could be differentiated through the use of different types of spatial narratives. For example, there is evidence to suggest that the panorama view of Edinburgh (1788) was used not merely to identify and locate objects in three-dimensional space, but to bring a historical narrative concerning the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion to life. Furthermore, at least two modes of perception—one static and perspectival, the other mobile and physiological—were encouraged by the panorama vistas. The panorama's technology was complicated further by the production of two different views of the same city, as in the case of the views of Constantinople, which were exhibited in the upper and lower circles of observation at the same time. This innovation allowed each view to cite the other as evidence of its verisimilitude and 'truth,' a process that had the potential to change the act of seeing into the act of believing. The panoramas exhibited in Britain from 1788 to 1820 had a tremendous effect on the ways in which their spectators saw themselves as national subjects within an imperialist culture. In reconstructing a series of politically charged physical realities by means of a sophisticated illusionism, these images attempted to fix what it meant to be British. But, as the thesis demonstrates, in different contexts and in different ways, the panoramas and their keys also allowed space for the production of multiple and conflicting identities. i i i Contents Abstract ii List of Illustrations iv Preface xii Acknowledgements xiii INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER ONE La nature a coup d'oeil in Edinburgh 28 Notes 54 CHAPTER TWO Selling the Panorama in London 61 Notes 83 CHAPTER THREE Gender in Perspective: the King and Queen's Visit to the Panorama in 1793 87 Seeing and Feeling 91 Seeing the World 96 The Panorama as a New Framework for Visual Perception 103 Notes 115 CHAPTER FOUR Opposing Views of Constantinople 119 Travelling to Draw 129 On the Two Views of Constantinople in London 140 Notes 168 CHAPTER FIVE Panoramas and their Keys: the Time and Space of Cityscapes and Naval Engagements 175 The Centrality of the Spectator 181 Narrative and Naval Battles 192 City Space and Sea Space 200 Inscribing the Keys 208 Framing the Subject: The Key as Miniature Panorama 212 Notes 219 Bibliography 222 Illustrations 244 Appendix A: Exhibitions held at the Panorama, Leicester Square 365 Appendix B: Bank account records for R. Barker and H.A. Barker 365 i v Illustrations 1.1 Man Nailing Down Canvas. Engraving. Source: Albert Hopkins, Magic, Stage Illusions and Scientific Diversions, (New York: B. Blom, 1967), p. 356. 1.2 View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country from the Calton Hill (Plate 1), 1789-90. Aquatint by John Wells after Robert and H.A. Barker. Edinburgh, City Museum. 1.3 View of Edinburgh (Plate 2). 1.4 View of Edinburgh (Plate 3). 1.5 View of Edinburgh (Plate 4). 1.6 View of Edinburgh (Plate 5). 1.7 View of Edinburgh (Plate 6). 1.8 View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (Plate 1), 1792-93. Aquatint by Frederick Birnie after Robert and Henry Aston Barker. New Haven, Yale Center for British Art. 1.9 View of London (Plate 2). 1.10 View of London (Plate 3). 1.11 View of London (Plate 4). 1.12 View of London (Plate 5). 1.13 View of London (Plate 6). 1.14 Section of the Rotunda, Leicester Square, in which is exhibited the Panorama, 1801. Aquatint by the architect, Robert Mitchell. London, Public Record Office. 1.15 View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead, 1793. Letterpress key, Robert Barker. London, Guildhall Library. 1.16 View of London from the Roof of the Albion Hills (Plate 1), 1791. Engraved key, Robert and H. A. Barker. London, Guildhall Library. V 1.17 The Glorious 1st of June, 1795. Engraved key, Robert and H.A. Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.18 View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Galata), 1801. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. London, Victoria and Albert Museum. 1.19 Lord Nelson's Attack of Copenhagen, 1802. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.20 View of La Valetta, Malta, 1810. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.21 Siege of Flushing (Holland), 1810. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.22 Outline of the Attack of Algiers, 1818. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Yale Center for British Art, New Haven. 1.23 Explanation of the View of Lausanne, 1819. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.24 View of Paris, 1803. Engraved key, T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.25 Panorama of Constantinople and Environs (Plate 1), 1813. Engraved by C. Tomkins, aquatinted by E. C. and G. Lewis, after Henry Aston Barker. Christie's, London. 1.26 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 2). 1.27 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 3). 1.28 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 4). 1.29 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 5). 1.30 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 6). 1.31 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 7). 1.32 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 8) 1.33 View of Lisbon, 1812. Engraved key, H. A. Barker. Bodleian Library. 1.34 Leicester Square, This Perspective View of the South Prospect is most Humbly Inscribed to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, 1753. v i Engraved by Parr, after John Brindley. Dept. of Prints and Drawings. British Museum. 1.35 Panorama, Leicester Square, Entrance from Cranbourne Street, 1858. Source: Survey of London, Parish of St. Anne, Soho, ed. F.H. W. Sheppard 34 (London: Athlone Press, 1966), Plate 41b. 1.36 Ground Plan of the Panorama Premises in Leicester Square, 1864. Engraving. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.37 Battle of the Nile, 1798. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.38 Handbill forView of Brightlemstone, 1797. Letterpress. Robert Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 1.1 View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country from the Calton Hill, 1789-90 (Plate 1). Aquatint by John Wells after Robert Barker. City Museum, Edinburgh. 1.2 View of Edinburgh (Plate 2). 1.3 View of Edinburgh (Plate 3). 1.4 View of Edinburgh (Plate 4). 1.5 View of Edinburgh (Plate 5). 1.6 View of Edinburgh (Plate 6). 1.7 Reconstruction of the West Front of Holyroodhouse, Edinburgh, 1945. Drawn by J. S. Richardson. Source: J. G. Dunbar, "The Palace of Holyroodhouse," Archaeological Journal 120 (1963), facing page 243. 1.8 View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country, 1805. Engraved key. T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. Edinburgh Public Library. 1.9 A prospect of Edinburgh from ye North, 1718. Engraving, John Slezer. National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh. 1.10 Robert Barker, 1798. Stipple engraving, J. Singleton after G. Ralph. National Portrait Gallery, London. 2.1 View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country from the Calton Hill (Plate 1), 1789-90. Aquatint by J. Wells after Robert Barker. City Museum, Edinburgh. V l l 2.2 View of Edinburgh (Plate 2). 2.3 View of Edinburgh (Plate 3). 2.4 View of Edinburgh (Plate 4). 2.5 Vieiy of Edinburgh (Plate 5). 2.6 View of Edinburgh (Plate 6). 2.7 View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (Plate 1), 1792-93. Aquatint by Frederick Birnie after Robert and H.A. Barker. Yale Center for British Art, New Haven. 2.8 View of London (Plate 2). 2.9 View of London (Plate 3). 2.10 View of London (Plate 4). 2.11 View of London (Plate 5). 2.12 View of London (Plate 6). 2.13 Anatomical Tables Illustrative of the Theory and Practice of Midwifery, 1791. Published by C. Cooke for the Royal Encyclopedia. Engraved by William Taylor after Frederick Birnie. Welcome Institute, London. 2.14 A Small Sketch as a Specimen of a Plan of London, 1790. Engraving, Richard Horwood. Map Library, British Museum, London. 2.15 Ground Plan of the Panorama Premises in Leicester Square, 1864. Engraving. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 2.16 Eidophusikon, c. 1782. Watercolour, Edward Francis Burney. Dept. of Prints and Drawings, British Museum. 2.17 Cork Models at Dubourg's Museum, c. 1818. Mezzo and aquatint, John Dubourg. Guildhall Library, London. 2.18 A Perspective View of the Grand Salon and Gallery at the Museum, 1790. Engraved by W. Sketon after Miss Stone and C. Ryley. Guildhall Library, London. v m 3.1 Section of the Rotunda Leicester Square, in which is exhibited the Panorama, 1801. Aquatint, Robert Mitchell. Public Record Office, London. 3.2 View of the Grand Fleet, Moored at Spithead, 1793. Letterpress key, Robert Barker. Guildhall Library, London. 3.3 Eidophusikon, c. 1782. Watercolour, Edward Francis Burney. Dept. of Prints and Drawings, British Museum, London. 3.4 Diagonal Opera Glass (Polemoscope), mid 18th century. Science Museum, London. 3.5 View of the Fleet, 1791. Ink on paper, anonymous. National Maritime Museum, Greenwich. 3.6 Historical map of India. Source: Encyclopedia Britannica, s.v. India, 1995, p. 87. 4.1 View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Galata), 1801. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 4.2 View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Leander), 1801. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 4.3 Map of Istanbul, 1840. Engraving, B.R. Davies. Source: Zeynep Celik, The Remaking of Istanbul (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p. 5. 4.4 Map of Constantinople, 1801. Engraving, H.A. Barker, in Explanation of the Views of Constantinople, British Library, London. 4.5 Panorama of Constantinople and Environs (Plate 1), 1814. Aquatint by F.C. and G. Lewis, engraved by C. Tomkins after Henry Aston Barker. Christie's, London. 4.6 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 2). 4.7 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 3). 4.8 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 4). 4.9 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 5). 4.10 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 6). 4.11 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 7). i x 4.12 Panorama of Constantinople (Plate 8). 4.13 Galata Tower, c. 1900. Photograph. Source: Zeynep Celik, The Remaking of Istanbul (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), p. 9. 4.14 Byzantium None Constinopolis, 1617. Engraving. Source: Georg Braun, Civitates Orbis Terrarum,, ed., facsimile A. Skelton (Amsterdam, 1966). 4.15 Istanbul, c. 1520. Engraving, Giovanni Vavassore. Source: Celik, Remaking of Istanbul, p. 25. 4.16 Byzantium sive Costanineopolis, 1559. Ink and watercolour (detail), Melchior Lorichs. University of Leida, Library. Source: A uolo d'uccello: Jacopo de' Barbari e le rappresentazioni di citta nell'Europa del Rinascimento, ed. Giandomenico Romanelli (Venice: Musei Civici Veneziani, 1999), pp. 154-157. 4.17 Byzantium sive Constanineopolis, 1559. Details, p. 155. 4.18 Byzantium sive Constanineopolis, 1559. Details, p. 156. 4.19 Byzantium sive Constanineopolis, 1559. Details, p. 157. 5.1 View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Galata), 1801. Engraved key, H.A. Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 5.2 View of the Grand Fleet, Moored at Spithead, 1793. Letterpress, Robert Barker. Guildhall Library, London. 5.3 Nuremberg Chronicle, 1493. Engraving. Source: Hartman Schedel, Buck der Chroniken (Nuremberg: Anton Koberger, 1493), p. 31. 5.4 Plan des dines de Champeaux, 15th century. Source: David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity (Oxford: Blackwell,1990), Plate 3.3. 5.5 Sketch of Strasbourg, 1548. Coloured engraving, Conrad Morant. Source: A volo d'uccello: Jacopo de'Barbari e le rappresentazioni di citta nell'Europa del Rinascimento, ed. Giandomenico Romanelli (Venice: Musei Civiici Veneziani, 1999), p. 169. 5.6 Circular View of Mountains Seen from the Top of the Buet Glacier, 1776. Engraving, Horace-Benedict de Saussure from his Voyages dans les Alpes (Geneva, 1779), p. 168. X 5.7 View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill, 1795. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Guildhall Library, London. 5.8 View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (Plate 1), 1791-92. Aquatint by Frederick Birnie after Robert and H.A. Barker. Yale Center for British Art, New York. 5.9 View of London (Plate 2) 5.10 View of London (Plate 3) 5.11 View of London (Plate 4) 5.12 View of London (Plate 5) 5.13 View of London (Plate 6) 5.14 Twenty Miles Round London, 1787. Engraved map, William Palmer, in The Ambulator or Pocket Companion in a Tour Round London, 4th ed. (London: Bew, 1792). Guildhall Library, London. 5.15 Lord Howe's Naval Victory, the First of June, 1794, 1796. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 5.16 The Glorious First of June, 1795. Oil on canvas, Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg. National Maritime Museum, London. 5.17 Admiral Cornwallis' Engagement, 1796. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 5.18 Lord Bridport's Engagement, 1796. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5.19 Lord Nelson's Attack of Copenhagen, 1801. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5.20 Plan of Attack by the British Squadron under the Command of Vice Admiral Lord Nelson against the Danish Line of defence off Copenhagen, 1801, 1801. Engraving. Dept. of Prints and Drawings, British Museum. 5.21 View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Leander), 1801. Engraving, Henry Aston Barker. Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 5.22 Battle of Trafalgar, 1806. Engraved key, T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. Wellcome Institute, London. x i 5.23 A Grand View of La Valetta, the Capital of Malta, 1810. Engraved by T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, London. 5.24 View of Flushing, During the Siege, 1810. Engraved by T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5.25 View of Brighthelmstone, 1797. Letterpress handbill, Robert Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5.26 Lord Bridport's Engagement, 1796. Engraved key, Robert Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5.27 View of Paris (taken from a steam engine on the river Seine), 1803. Engraving, Henry Aston Barker. London, British Museum, Dept. of Prints and Drawings. 5.28 A View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country, 1805. Engraved key, T. Lane after Henry Aston Barker. National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh. 5.29 Outline of the Attack upon Algiers, 1818. Engraved key, Henry Aston Barker. Yale Center for British Art, New Haven. 5.30 Explanation of the View of Lausanne and the Lake of Geneva, 1819. Engraved key, J. Lee after H.A. Barker. Bodleian Library, Oxford. x i i Preface An earlier version of Chapter Three has been published as, "Gender in Perspective: The King and Queen's Visit to the Panorama in 1793," in Gendering Landscape Art, eds. A. Gruetzner Robins and S. Adams, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000, pp. 146-161. X l l l Acknowledgements First, I would like to thank my advisor, Maureen Ryan, and my thesis committee, Rose Marie San Juan, and Joy Dixon, for their incisive comments, alacritous advice, and goodwill. Together they have taught me the importance of writing about the history of visual culture. I also thank all those contributors to my work at the Department of Art History at the University of British Columbia. Further afield, I am very fortunate to have had the advice of Roger Chartier, the historian of the book at E.H.E.S.S. in Paris, who inspired some of the issues and methods I chose for this project. This thesis was written with the aid of a University of British Columbia Graduate Fellowship. Research in Britain and at the Yale Center for British Art in New Haven was partly funded by an Art History Travel Research Scholarship, awarded by the University of British Columbia for the year 1997-98, and by a Paul Mellon Fellowship in 1998. I am indebted to Ralph Hyde, former Keeper of Prints at the Guildhall Library in London, Julie Anne Lambert the librarian of the John Johnson Collection at the Bodleian Library, Oxford, Ulrike Moret at the National Library of Scotland, and Tracy Earl, the archivist at Coutts Bank in London, for their help during my research trips. Many thanks are due to the staff members at the University of British Columbia Library, Guildhall Library of the City of London, the British Library, the Prints and Drawings Collection at the British Museum, the Bodleian Library, the National Library of Scotland, the Edinburgh Room at the Central Library in Edinburgh, the Edinburgh City Archives, the Science Museum, London, and the Yale Center for British Art. This thesis would never have been completed without the invaluable friendship and the intellectual engagement provided by Erin Campbell, Robyn Laba, and Bronwen Wilson. Thank you for improving my ideas and my prose. I am also very grateful for the kindness and advice of Angela Vanhaelen, Sylvia Musto, and Joseph Monteyne. For a host of reasons I appreciate Gill Perry, Deborah Weiner, Marvin Cohodas, Monika Kin Gagnon and Scott Toguri McFarlane, Pandora Richardson, Mina Totino and Stan Douglas, Anne Dunlop, the late Andrew Macintosh, Julia Scalzo, Maureen Wilson and Debbie Jacques, Kathy Freebury, Winnifred Assmann, Lynn Kristmanson, William Wood, Myfanwy MacLeod, Shannon Oksanen, Rodney Graham, Geraldine Pratt, Judith Steedman, Charity Mewburn, Patricia Kelly, and Robin Mitchell. Last, but certainly not least, I thank my family—June, Bill (who died last year), Julie, and Trevor Byrne—for their support and encouragement. Most of all, I am grateful to Ken Lum for the incomparable gift of a room of my own to get this done. 1 Introduction On June 17, 1787, Robert Barker, an Irish artist living in Edinburgh, obtained a Royal patent for a cylindrical structure designed to exhibit continuous three-hundred-and-sixty-degree paintings. He called his invention La nature a coup d'oeil.1 As the patent description makes clear, Barker's apparatus "for the purpose of displaying pictures of nature at large by oil painting, fresco, watercolour, crayons, or any other mode of painting or drawing,"2 was a ground-breaking innovation that allowed representations of landscapes to surround spectators on all sides: By the invention called La Nature a Coup d'Oeil, is intended, by drawing and painting and a proper disposition of the whole, to perfect an entire view of any country or situation as it appears to an observer turning quite around; to produce which effect the painter or drawer must fix his station, and delineate correctly and connectedly every object which presents itself to his view as he turns around, concluding his drawing by a connection with where he begun.3 As Barker indicates, the proposed scene was to be painted with such perfection that the image should represent a continuous view of nature "as it appears."4 Historian Stephan Oetterman has described how the representations Barker referred to were to be produced by adapting the rules of perspective to an enormous, cylindrical canvas composed of several pieces of cloth sewn together, stretched and nailed to the top of a circular wooden framework (fig. I).5 Once painted, weights were attached to the canvas at the bottom to reduce bulging; altogether these paintings weighed several tons.6 To enhance the illusion of trompe I'oeil, which was so crucial to his invention, Barker devised several formal strategies to conceal the fact that 2 the spectator was looking at a circular painting. The patent specifications include three structural elements that were necessary for the painting to have its "proper effect": a central observation platform designed to prevent viewers from getting too close to the surface of the painting; a roofing component to hide the top edge of the picture from sight; and skylights placed directly above the painting, bathing it in natural light while leaving the central platform in relative darkness.7 These devices were to enhance the illusionism of an image that filled the circular room from floor to ceiling, and to give the impression that the scene continued beyond the architectural limits of the enclosed room. Barker further instructed that "the inner inclosure may be elevated at the will of an artist, so as to make observers, on whatever situation he may wish they should imagine themselves, feel as if really on the very spot."8 While the goal of complete verisimilitude was never realized, the illusive appearance of this type of painting implicated spectators in a process of give-and-take by concealing as far as possible the sources of its visual effects. Barker's inaugural exhibition of his new, patented visual form was a semi-circular painting of the View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country from the Calton Hill (figs. 2-7), which was first shown in Edinburgh at Archer's Hall, in the Meadows, near Holyrood Palace and at the New Assembly Rooms, in Edinburgh's New Town, from January 31, 1788 to June 8, 1788.9 The painting was then transported to London where it was exhibited at a popular exhibition hall at 41 Haymarket, from 1789 to 1791.10 Barker's display of a second painted vista opened in London in 1791, where 3 the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (figs. 8-13) was exhibited in a circular structure he had constructed in his backyard on Castle street, near Leicester Square.11 At this time Barker invented a new name for his apparatus for exhibiting pictures which was announced when he introduced the View of London to the public. Aided by friends interested in Greek antiquity, Barker coined the word "Panorama"—derived from the Greek for "all" and "view"—in 1791.12 By 1793, Barker had built the Panorama Rotunda at the centre of London's entertainment district in Leicester Square,13 which he operated as a commercial enterprise until his death in 1806; thereafter it was taken over by his son, Henry Aston Barker (fig. 14).14 The Rotunda was constructed according to specifications detailed in Barker's patent, with the additional feature of two exhibition rooms, one above the other.15 Dividing the rotunda into two parts allowed the proprietor to exhibit two separate pictures at the same time. The lower observation platform was suspended at the centre of a painting of eighty-five feet in diameter and forty feet high (which Barker claimed contained 10,000 square feet of canvas), and the upper platform was suspended inside a painting of fifty-feet in diameter and approximately seventeen feet high (with canvases of about 2700 square feet).16 The interior wall from the ground to the ceiling was fifty-seven feet.17 The Panorama Rotunda's two compartments allowed spectators to compare different painted vistas, and in the twenty-five years following the opening of the Panorama Rotunda, various cities of Britain and Europe were juxtaposed with representations of the dramatic naval victories of the British fleet, most of which involved confrontations with France during the 4 Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars and their aftermath (see Appendix A1 8). Thus, while a panorama painting like the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead (fig. 15) of 1793 was shown on its own, in 1795 a repainted version of the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill (fig. 16) was exhibited for several months alongside The Glorious First of June (fig. 17); in 1802 the View of Constantinople (fig. 18) was exhibited with Lord Nelson's Attack of Copenhagen (fig. 19); in 1810 the View of La Viletta, Malta (fig. 20), was exhibited with the Siege of Flushing, Holland (fig. 21); and, in 1818 the Attack of Algiers (fig. 22) was exhibited with the View of Lausanne (fig. 23).19 The panorama paintings exhibited by Robert Barker and his son, Henry Aston Barker, no longer exist. As noted on the printed key to the View of Paris of 1803 (fig. 24), they were either painted over and used again, or small sections were sold to decorate the walls of domestic or public buildings.20 Nevertheless, evidence of what these original views looked like is available from several sources. Three extant series of prints reproduce the paintings of The View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill, 1787 (figs. 2-7), The View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill, 1791 (figs. 8-14), and The View of Constantinople from the Tower of Galata, 1801, (figs. 25-32). An aquatinted cross-section of the Panorama Rotunda at Leicester Square (fig. 14), drawn by the architect Robert Mitchell in 1801, represents several observers visiting the two views in the lower and upper circles of observation (the View of Plymouth of 1797, and the repainted View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill of 1795).21 As well, virtually all of the thirty-eight paintings exhibited since the opening of the Panorama at Leicester Square 5 from 1793 to 1819 are recorded in the inexpensively produced keys which were given to visitors to the Panorama free of charge—until 1812, at which time H.A. Barker decided sell them for 6d. 2 2 The early panorama keys provided either schematic diagrams or images to assist viewers in identifying objects and sites depicted in the painted representations. Reference books that accompanied several of the views exhibited after 1801 also exist.2 3 Like tourist guide-books, the reference books provided background information on the exhibited scene, and a description of the major objects represented. At its broadest level, my argument in this thesis is that by transporting its spectators to other places in the city, country or world, the panorama created a spatial and temporal disjunction between a Tiere' and a 'there' that became a crucial locus for the formation of new identities. In other words, the panorama functioned as a forum for the production of a new sense of self, one that was defined in part by the relationship of the spectator, located at the centre of Britain's largest metropolis, to the increasingly distant cities and British naval victories represented by the panorama's three-hundred-and-sixty-degree form. The five chapters of the thesis, which explore the significance of several individual panoramas and their keys, will address how the panorama as a unique visual form that involved both the viewer's eyes and body, operated on psychic and somatic as well as ideological levels. By focusing not only on what was seen but how it was seen, the thesis explicates how the panorama's highly illusionistic representations of places in the world both inside and outside of London, 6 transformed notions of ethnicity, gender, social status and 'race' while simultaneously fostering a belief in Britain's imperial greatness. My interpretation of the early panorama in Britain both builds on and makes a clear departure from the arguments of Stephan Oettermann's groundbreaking book, The Panorama, a study of the history of the panorama in Europe during the nineteenth century which was originally published in German in 1980 and translated into English in 1997. In his introductory essay, Oettermann identifies the discovery of the horizon as one of the key experiences of the late eighteenth century, and he links the desire to see the entire horizon to the invention of the panorama. 2 4 Oettermann's insightful description of the effect of nausea, or "see-sickness" that the act of looking at the horizon in the panorama had on some viewers, became one of the starting points for this study. 2 51 have drawn on much of the evidence first collected or signalled by Oettermann to both explore in more depth the early subject matter exhibited by Barker and to consider how the new visual form's multiperspectival illusion signalled the importance of the body's relation to vision, which in turn ushered in new conceptions of subjectivity. I have also investigated the ways that such documentary evidence was implicated in the discourses that determined the limits of gendered performance. My work, however, departs from Oettermann's account which concentrates almost exclusively on the panorama's repressive and disciplinary function, and views the panorama as a counterpart to Jeremy Bentham's imprisoning Panopticon. Oettermann argues that, 7 while seeming to offer an unconfined view of a genuine landscape, [the panorama] in fact surrounds observers completely and hems them in far more than all previous artistic attempts to reproduce landscapes. At the same time that the panorama celebrates the bourgeoisie's ability to 'see things from a new angle', it is also a complete prison for the eye. The eye cannot range beyond the frame, because there is no frame. 2 6 In terms of the subject matter depicted in these representations, Oettermann stresses the ways in which the panorama "blurs, and idealizes circumstances of land ownership" for a "mass" audience, one which is broadly defined as comprised of both the bourgeois and working classes.27 My point is that Oettermann does not fully explore the different ways in which those who viewed the panorama could have understood their experience. Oettermann's primary focus is on the homogenizing effects of the panorama, which he identifies as the origin of the increasingly manipulative visual forms that hold sway over the masses in the twentieth-century.2 8 Yet because he conceives of viewers as being entirely subjected to this sophisticated representational contrivance, he overlooks spectators' potentially conflicting interpretations of the image. By concentrating on a pre-conceived audience which he describes in general terms as simply 'bourgeois', Oettermann's analysis makes few distinctions between the different ways in which the views could be read in their specific historical and urban contexts. In fact, publications on the panorama in general have avoided the complex issues of representation and identity that the new visual form raised by approaching the topic in terms of broad surveys that assume a uniformity both of the paintings exhibited and of the audiences they addressed.2 9 And although the Barkers' panorama paintings represented sites and spaces that were of great 8 economic and political interest to both London and British publics, there has been no significant study of the panorama in Britain that investigates its links to nascent and explicit forms of imperialism. 3 0 Scholarship on the panorama has also tended to locate Barker's invention, which he advertised as an "improvement" on, or "emancipation" of, "the sublime art of painting," 3 1 either within a narrow art historical framework of art production, or entirely outside of this sphere of influence.3 2 For example, in his study of the panorama, first published in 1993, the art historian Bernard Comment records the observations made on the new visual form by French commentators in the nineteenth century. Comment points out that while the panorama satisfied its audiences' desire for "humanism and ecstasy,"33 it was still considered an inferior form of "art." 3 4 In contrast, Richard Altick's The Shows of London, published in 1978, contains a chapter on Barker's panorama in which he argues that since the new method of painting was immediately put to commercial use, the panorama "belongs to the history of entertainment rather than of art." 3 5 As will emerge in the following chapters, the historical processes involved in categorising Barker's invention were never so clear cut. My thesis reveals that panoramas actually disrupted categories of art, scientific innovation, and 'popular' entertainment, and that the panorama images performed an important function precisely because they did not fit easily into any one category. The Panorama was an urban cultural form that appealed to a newly constituted and broad audience, as opposed to the smaller audience of 9 connoisseurs and social elites who formed the public for high and fine art forms. Pierre Bourdieu and others have explored how social identities are forged through images, and through the distinctions that members of particular social groups or communities made between them, and draw between each other.3 6 But social groups are also constituted through conflict over representation. Cultural historian Roger Chartier makes the important point that the "mechanisms that regulate the working of society and the structures determining relationships between individuals need to be understood as the result of continually conflictive and antagonistic representations of the social world." 3 7 The Panorama, as a visual form that straddled categories of art, science and entertainment, drew spectators whose social and cultural identities may have differed from those who supported other forms of representation, but it also enabled divergent readings and interpretations. My interest in the panorama as a topic thus lies not in raising the panorama image into a canon of art, but rather in investigating what this form tells us about Britain's metropolitan culture that cannot be learned from studies of historical or landscape paintings, or from studies of other forms of widely distributed images. In his work on the history of print culture, Chartier maintains that texts take on meaning within a triangular process of exchange. Insisting that meaning does not reside in the object, he asserts that meaning is produced in the gaps between "the text itself, the object that conveys the text, and the act that grasps it." 3 8 Clearly there are significant differences between the print culture Chartier assesses and the panorama as a structural and visual form. 10 Nevertheless, Chartier's emphasis on the processes of exchange—in particular, his insistence that spectators who actively engage with any representational system generate meanings from it beyond those circumscribed in advance by the producers of such systems—is pertinent to the study of the panorama and its audiences.39 Although the spectators' uses of the panorama are difficult to trace historically, the documents associated with the exhibition of individual panoramas (the keys, maps, and reference books that were sold to or made available a viewing public) provide a means of recovering some of the panorama's historically specific usages, and of assessing its role as a context for the formulation of new subjectivities. The keys that accompanied each panorama and which encouraged spectators to identify specific objects in the view are particularly important here. While the subject matter or content of the panorama paintings changed during the period from 1787 to 1819, their form—in terms of size, shape and painting style—did not change. In contrast, the design of the keys changed markedly. As part of my analysis in the thesis, I contend that the keys functioned as intermediary objects that operated in the spaces between the panorama artist, the painting itself, and the spectator who viewed, interpreted and responded to the image.4 0 The overall approach of my thesis, then, is twofold: I will consider the consequences of the new desire to be "all-seeing," so effectively given form in the panorama, by examining the various attempts by the artists who designed it to control the way that viewers experienced these images. What I mean here is that to view the panorama, groups of spectators were 11 positioned at the centre of vast, multi-perspectival representations of space in front of several focal points selected by the painter, they were guided through the space of the painting by the index of sites marked out on a printed key to the painting, and frequently the panorama was explained to each group of spectators by a lecturer who was on hand. 4 1 Together these strategies to constrain meaning can be seen as an effort to forge consensus among the panoramas' many viewers. However, a desire to find meaning in the plural and creative practices of ordinary culture lies at the heart of this project; to this end I also emphasise the ways in which spectators conformed with or eluded the panorama's official determinations by concentrating on the role of consumption in the production of meanings. The archive of prints, advertisements, pamphlets, and keys related to the panorama will be explored to identify the major oppositions that lent different meanings to particular paintings. Barker's invention was set apart from other forms of visual representation in London by three distinctive features: a phenomenalist claim to unmediated vision; the ordering of the image in terms of multi-perspective viewing points; and the central positioning given to the viewer. These features were important to the way in which the panorama's structural and visual form constituted and positioned viewers. First, the illusionistic realism of the panorama image, and Barker's contention that his apparatus would enable artists to recreate any view in nature, 4 2 gave a new visual form and impetus to the emerging interest in phenomenalism which, as art historian Charlotte Klonk has pointed out, 12 permeated academic as well as amateur painting circles in Britain during this period. 4 3 Phenomenalism, as Klonk observes, involves an attempt "to capture reality faithfully," by recording "nature as it appears."44 What is important here is that Barker pushed this empiricist goal further by attempting to recreate an image of nature "as it appears to an observer turning quite around." 4 5 A second distinguishing feature of the panorama was its display of multiple perspective viewpoints across the inside of its cylindrical canvas, which radically differed from single-point or two-point perspective views represented on a flat surface. In order to achieve the desired effect of depth and illusionism, Barker developed a new system of perspective which allowed lines to appear straight despite being supported by a curved surface. An entry on the Panorama in the Encyclopaedia Britannica of 1824 offers a technical description of how perspective is employed in the panorama: The projection or perspective of a panorama is formed by imaginary lines drawn from different points of the surrounding objects, to the point of sight in the axis of the cylinder. The intersections of these lines with the cylindrical surface form the corresponding points in the panoramic picture. Where the picture is projected on a plane, as in common perspective, and in the gnomonic projection of the sphere, the cones formed by imaginary lines or rays passing from the point of sight to the different objects, are cut by the plane of the picture; consequently, the sections being formed by a plane, are curves, of which the curvature is always simple. In the perspective of the panorama, where the picture consists of the intersection of the cones of rays by a cylinder, these intersections are, in many of the cases, doubly curved curves. When the picture of a straight line, which is neither parallel to the horizon nor to the axis of the cylinder, is drawn on the cylinder of the panorama, the picture of the line is part of an ellipse, because the oblique section of a right cylinder, by a plane passing through the axis, is an ellipse; when the cylinder is developed and unrolled on a plane surface, this ellipse becomes the curve called the sinical curve. 4 6 13 This detailed and complicated explanation of perspective used on a cylindrical surface, including the abstract image of "doubly curved curves," emphasises the scientific aspect that Barker's mode of painting implied in the first decades of the nineteenth century. Third, by incorporating a place for the spectator at the middle of the painting, Barker's invention enabled observers to metaphorically step inside the frame to obtain an internalized view of the scene represented.4 7 This viewing position constructed a radically new relationship between spectator and image.4 8 For the first time, raised up on a platform, looking outwards onto an all-inclusive, multi-perspectival painting illuminated by concealed skylights, spectators would be fully immersed in the space represented. The panorama created the unique situation in which spectators looked from a position that was at once in front of and inside of the painting. Because of its massive size and cylindrical structure, it was more difficult for viewers to find a single ideal point from which to view the painting. Stuart Hal l describes the process of finding this point as the means by which "the spectator is painted into position in front of the picture," 4 9 with the painting producing a subject-position for the spectator. As Hal l explains, "For the painting to work, the spectator must first subject herself or himself to the painting5s discourse and, in this way, become the painting's ideal viewer, the producer of meanings, its subject."50 Nevertheless, because the panorama situated spectators at the centre of a cylindrical picture that was constructed of multiple one-point perspective viewpoints joined together, there were 14 several perspective positions for them to be painted into. Thus, at the same time that the panorama offered spectators a sense of embodiment, a sense that the space their bodies occupied was contiguous with the space of the image, it also gave them multiple ways of interacting with, or being subjected to, its representational power. By completely immersing the spectator in the middle of a phenomenalistic, multiperspectival and cylindrical painting which could not be grasped all at once, the viewing situation in the panorama could also lend spectators a greater awareness of the limits of human vision (because the panorama could not be entirely seen from one point without turning around) and of the space occupied by their own bodies (because it forced them to move). Panorama images thus had the potential to have a greater impact on spectators' experience of viewing and, in turn, on what they were encouraged to believe. The location in which the Panorama Rotunda was ultimately built in 1793 drew attention to these unique features of Barker's invention. By the late eighteenth century, Leicester Square became known as the "Square of Squares," the favoured location of many of the city's writers, scientists and artists, including William Hogarth, Sir Isaac Newton, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Dr. Johnson, Boswell, Opie, Garrick, Oliver Goldsmith, Fanny Burney, Charles Dibdin, Edmund Burke, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Richard Wilson, John Hunter, William Cruikshank, and Charles Bell. 5 1 The associations of Leicester Square with such well known figures in literature, science and art led it to become the unrivalled centre for London's public amusements (fig. 34).52 As one historian writing in the nineteenth century 15 put it, while Covent Garden was known for its theatre and music hall, Leicester Square had everything, "theatres, music halls, panoramas, poses plastiques, exhibitions, galleries, & c , &c." 5 3 Indeed, during the period when Barker's Panorama was located on the Square other popular amusements in the neighbourhood included Philippe de Loutherbourg's Eidophusikon (a small theatre of changing scenery shown intermittently), Charles Dibdin's theatre called the Sans Souci, the magic show the Invisible Girl, which took over Sir Joshua Reynold's studio, Miss Linwood's display of Art Needlework in Savile House, Sir Ashton Lever's Holophusikon (a cabinet of curiosities that included stuffed animals, the costumes of foreign nations, and antiquities), and John Hunter's Museum of anatomical specimens.5 4 In addition, many taverns, restaurants, and coffee houses catered to the wide ranging communities of inhabitants and visitors of the area. 5 5 Barker's enormous Panorama Rotunda, located behind the shop fronts at the north west corner of the Leicester Square, opened for business in 1793 (fig. 35). Even though visitors had to walk from the entrance down a narrow corridor over seventy feet long, Barker had managed to obtain an address for his exhibition on the square itself (fig. 36). The location of the Panorama on the square both benefited from and contributed to the square's creative and inventive associations.56 Existing as a physical structure at Leicester Square for several decades, the Panorama presented viewers with a succession of images in a space where comparisons could be drawn between domestic and foreign cities and towns, and where opinions could be forged concerning recent sea battles 16 of the British fleet. As one nineteenth century commentator noted, the panorama gave form to the most topical subjects and current events: "every war by sea and land, every scene of interesting incident or discovery, every locality of special natural beauty, every great public ceremonial, has been illustrated in this vivid and ingenious pictorial invention..."57 My thesis seeks to fill a gap in scholarship on the panorama by integrating the viewer in London's Leicester Square with the immense paintings of geographical sites central to Britain's political and economic interests and imperial aspirations. Edward Said's Culture and Imperialism, has been influential in terms of my interest in the way the panorama could represent the interrelations between the 'home', of domestic space, and the 'world' of an expanding global network.5 8 In the panorama, 'home' (represented by London), and 'world' (represented as Britain's victorious naval force and distant urban markets for trade), are pictured as two mutually supporting entities thus emphasizing—however problematically—a set of cultural, economic and moral benefits of British imperialism to European civilization. The new visual regime the panorama offered up was central to the process whereby an image of imperial greatness was embedded in domestic culture. The panorama was the newest form of the Enlightenment belief in vision, or, to cite Michel de Certeau, "the identification of the seen with what was to be believed."™ In the attempt to provide viewers with the impression that they were witnessing a real scene rather than just a painted reproduction of one, Barker's design for the panorama took the viewer's 17 entire body into consideration. As one type of viewing situation, the panorama offered a phenomenological experience of looking because it encompassed the viewer's entire body. Several spectators who wrote about the experience of seeing the panorama described the corporeal effect that it had on them. One journalist who visited the Battle of the Nile, exhibited in 1799 (fig. 37), commented that "As soon as you enter, a shiver runs down your spine. The darkness of night is all around, illuminated only by burning ships and cannon fire, and all so deceptively real." 6 0 The same writer, describing his experience of seeing the panorama of Brighton, exhibited in 1797 (fig. 38), declared that, "I was so captivated by the sight that I held my breath, the better to take in the wonder, the sublimity of it all." 6 1 Other visitors underlined the spatial and temporal disjunctions the panorama effected—a sense of being in two places at once: I have been to see Mr. Barker's panoramas, the Siege of Flushing [1810], and Bay of Messina [1811]. They are so well painted as to be quite deception, particularly the latter one, as they extend in a circular form all round the rooms and the spectators are placed in the centre the effect is very astonishing. I actually put on my hat imagining myself to be in the open air. 6 2 This sense of confusion over one's location was not an isolated observation.6 3 In "The Time and Space of the Enlightenment Project," David Harvey has used the term "space-time compression" to describe both the way in which capitalist exchange had transformed the spaces of the globe, and the changing perceptions produced by modern technological advances.6 4 Inside the Panorama Rotunda, viewers could experience a disjunctive bodily sensation brought about by the abrupt change in space and time produced by 18 being at once in a building at Leicester Square in London and within the space of an illusion—whether that sense of dislocation was produced by confronting an ostensibly familiar scene like that of the View of London from the roof of the Albion Mill (1791), or a more unfamiliar vista like that of the city of Constantinople (Istanbul), (1801) from a military tower. Thus the panorama contributed to the rationalization of space taking place in modern Britain and the West by reducing the plurality of spaces and times within totalizing, geometricalized perspective views that gave observers a sense of being participants in the myriad linkages and networks being forged between the metropolis and the wider world. In order to addresses the complex ways in which panorama images were produced, marketed and consumed (or appropriated) in Britain, the individual chapters of this thesis are designed to permit an analysis of individual panorama paintings while also exploring the internal tensions at work between the constraints that the panorama imposed on viewers and the possible ways that they were eluded or denied by spectators. The first two chapters focus on the shift in interpretive communities that was part of the panorama's move from Edinburgh to London. Chapter One addresses the panorama's origin in Edinburgh within a specific membership community that sponsored Barker's first painting, The View of Edinburgh and the Surrounding Country from the Calton Hill, of 1787. Relying on the evidence found in the reference book published to accompany the prints of this first panorama, I show that the new visual form and its subject matter promoted two different modes of experiencing 19 the panorama, which I differentiate by using the terms, the 'map' and the 'tour.'65 With respect to the space of the panorama image, a map-like usage and description of the panorama's illusionistic space would consist of identifying sites for spectators in a sequential and systematic left-to-right movement across the surface of the image. In contrast, the tour mode of spectatorship and description allowed the observer to tie the image to dynamic narratives of space, most importantly here, a narrative concerning Scotland's Jacobite history, that obliged the viewer's eyes to jump to and fro across the image. This type of viewing practice allowed viewers to engage with the encircling painting 'as a whole' rather than in separate, consecutively viewed parts. The exhibition of the panorama within a new context—that of London—is the subject of Chapter Two. Here the efforts to sell the View of Edinburgh in this new metropolitan context, beginning in 1789, is examined in light of the set of issues that arose when the painting was exhibited to audiences in the capital of the British nation, as opposed to those in the regional centre of Edinburgh. This chapter also explores Barker's second panorama image, the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill, first exhibited in 1791, in relation to many of the other exhibitions taking place in the city at the same time. The View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill enacted a visual and spatial connection to another important exhibition once held at Leicester Square. First exhibited at the back of Barker's house near Leicester Square, spectators for the View of London were located by the image on the other side of the Thames river 20 on the roof of the infamous industrial flour mill, that remained standing after a 1791 fire only as a burned out shell. 6 6 This viewpoint, overlooking the entire city, provided a clear view of the entrance to the Leverian Museum in the foreground, a famous public cabinet of curiosities that was once housed in Leicester Square. 6 7 Hence, by conveying its spectators to a viewpoint that overlooked the new location of the museum, Barker's panorama of London at once brought memories and associations of the Leverian Museum back to Leicester Square. In doing so, his painting was linked to the Museum's purpose of bringing the world to the centre of London. In 1793 the specifications of the 1787 patent were finally realized in the Panorama Rotunda built at Leicester Square. The new enterprise was inaugurated by a Royal visit to the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead, 1793, which provides the framework for Chapter Three. Here social status and gender performance are examined in relation to imperialistic narratives set in place by the naval image, and to the different modes of perception allowed for by the panorama's structural and visual form. A different type of movement, or spatial practice, is assessed in this study. The panorama allowed for at least two modes of perception—a classical, static and external type of spectatorship, as well as a modern, mobile and internal or physiological mode of vision, in which sight combined more fully with the corporeal. In this chapter I examine a contemporary anecdote on the Royal visit to the Panorama, Leicester Square, which implies that the two modes of perception allowed for by the 21 panorama were based on gender difference. I oppose this assumption by providing evidence that what was construed as the 'female' mode was in fact a more physiologically accurate and scientific response to the visual form. I argue that a mode of perception associated with Queen Charlotte's response to the panorama image at once opened up opportunities for seeing against the grain (or narrative) of the image, and for breaking with established notions of subjectivity. The subtle interrelations between imperialistic aspects of domestic and foreign relations was an important aspect of the earliest panorama images, and is examined further in Chapter Four, which undertakes an analysis of the viewing positions and multiple thresholds that were set in place by the juxtaposition of two contrasting images of the foreign city of Constantinople (Istanbul) in 1801. This chapter investigates issues concerning the shifting boundaries between Asia and Europe, the rivalry between Britain and France, and the problematic construction of a femininized 'East' and a masculinized 'West.' By pairing two contrasting views of the city, the Panorama structure enabled the spectator to switch back and forth between panorama vistas, and this had important consequences for the range of meanings that viewers could bring to and derive from these paintings. As a conclusion to the thesis Chapter Five explores the keys that were printed to accompany panorama paintings of cities and naval battles from 1793 to 1819. Here I analyse the ways in which Robert and Henry Aston Barker attempted to describe the various and shifting spatial and 22 temporal relations in the graphic design of the keys, by comparing them to the painted scenes that they were to accompany. By closely examining the keys and their relation to the panorama paintings, this chapter traces a gradual shift in the design of the keys between 1793 and 1819. This shift involved increasing the amount of detail and perspectival depth in the images of the keys, which eventually led to the adoption of a new design in which two registers of framed, rectangular perspective images were juxtaposed on the page. I argue that this encouraged spectators to look at the objects in the view rather than to focus on the medium of the panorama structure itself, a change that corresponded to profound changes in notions of space and time produced by Enlightenment rationalism and by powerful transformations in Western capitalism itself. Specific instances of the ways that the representation of space on the circular keys were "practised," in the sense that the keys could act as a site for the exchange of ideas, are explored with respect to circular keys that bear manuscript additions. I suggest that the lack of a coherent spatial structure of these keys enlivened the creative imagination of the viewer. In contrast, by arresting the circular and more abstract mode of looking at the space of the printed image of the round keys, the rectangular keys had more power to control how space and time were conceived in relation to the panorama images, and how the space of the painted images was engaged with by spectators. Michel Foucault has argued that the shift from the 'sovereign' state of the classical age to the modern 'disciplinary' state took place not only 23 through changes in consciousness or ideology, but also "in the body and with the body."6 8 He asserts that "for capitalist society biopolitics is what is most important, the biological, the somatic, the corporeal."6 9 The panorama was a new cultural form in which a particular concept of Empire attempted to establish itself both visually and corporeally. It was a site for the establishment of both imperialist relations of power and different subjectivities. The panorama's unbounded illusion of space thus functioned at once as a metaphor for the social reality of the British Empire, and of the uncontainable singularities of the spectator's body. 1 British Patent No. 1612 of 19 June 1787, reprinted in Robert Barker, "Specification of the Patent Granted to Mr. Robert Barker.. .Called by Him 'La Nature a Coup d'Oeil,'" The Repertory of Arts and Manufactures: Consisting of Original Communications, Specifications of Patent Inventions, and Selections of Useful Practical Papers from the Transactions of the Philosophical Societies of All Nations, &c. &c. (London) 4 (1796): pp. 165-67. 2 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 165. 3 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," pp. 165-6. 4 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 165. 5 Stephan Oettermann, The Panorama: A History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997), p. 54. 6 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 54. 7 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 166. 8 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 167, my emphasis. Barker's often repeated realist claims tied his images to actual places and events. Nevertheless, his versions of'reality' were necessarily mediated. In the chapters that follow, the panorama paintings are addressed as fictions that challenged contemporary assumptions about space and time, and social and cultural relationships. In this thesis, the term 'realism' refers to the visual strategies that were marshalled to produce an illusionistic 'reality effect.' See Ella Shohat and Robert Stam, Unthinking Eurocentrism: Multiculturalism and the Media (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 180. 9 An announcement of the upcoming exhibition was made in the Edinburgh Evening Courant, 29 December 1787, p. 1. The exhibition did not open until January 31, 1788 (Edinburgh Evening Courant, 2 February 1788, p. 1.) The exhibition moved to the New Assembly Rooms by March . See the Edinburgh Evening Courant, 6 March 1788, p. 1. The advertisement in the Edinburgh Evening Courant of 12 May, 1788, explains that the exhibition will remain open until the 2nd of June, 1788. 10 St. James Chronicle (London), 12-14 March 1789, p. 2. 11 Morning Chronicle (London), 11 June 1791, p. 1. 24 12 Morning Chronicle (London), 11 June 1791, p. 1. The different literal and figurative meanings that the technical term 'panorama' quickly took on after 1791 are discussed in Oettermann, pp.5-7. 1 3 The square was named after Leicester House, a large mansion on the north side, which was originally owned by the Earl of Leicester and afterwards was the residence of his royal highness, Frederick, Prince of Wales. Taylor, Leicester Square, pp. 227-28. 1 4 George Richard Corner, "The Panorama: With Memoirs of its Inventor, Robert Barker, and his son, the Late Henry Aston Barker," The Art Journal, n.s., 3 (1857): p. 46. 1 5 Robert Mitchell, Plans and Views in Perspective with Descriptions of Buildings Erected in England and Scotland, and Also an Essay, to Elucidate the Grecian, Roman and Gothic Architecture, Accompanied by Designs (London: Wilson & Co., 1801), p. 8. 1 6 Mitchell, Plans and Views, p. 8. 1 7 Mitchell, Plans and Views, p. 8. 1 8 For the subjects and exhibition dates of the paintings exhibited in the two circles of observation at the Panorama, Leicester Square from 1793 to 1819, see the graph in Appendix A. My research for this graph was aided by the list exhibitions compiled in Scott B. Wilcox, "The Panorama and Related Exhibitions in London" (M. Litt thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1976), Appendix C: A Chronology of Panoramas Exhibited at the Leicester Square and Strand Panoramas, pp. 254-265. 1 9 See Appendix A. 2 0 A note at the bottom of the key of the View of Paris advertises the sale of segments of previously exhibited views: "In order to preserve from Destruction some of those interesting Paintings which have met with general Approbation, at the Panorama, Leicester-square, Mr. Barker wishes to dispose of them, in such Proportions as Gentlemen may choose, according to the Length and Height of the Place they intend to occupy. Beautiful views may be obtained, of a reasonable Size, for a Hall, Gallery, Staircase, or Termination of a Walk, without injuring the Effect of the Painting; and would prove an acceptable and valuable Present to any Corporation, for their Hall, or other public Place, in Town, or in the Country." 2 1 The two panoramas illustrated in Mitchell's Section of the Panorama Rotunda were never actually shown together. 2 2 This information is printed on the key to the View of Lisbon of 1812 (fig. 33). 2 3 Reference books exist for the views of Edinburgh, Constantinople, Paris, and all the views shown at the Panorama after 1812. 2 4 Oettermann, The Panorama, pp. 7-8. 2 5 Oettermann The Panorama, pp. 12, 59. 2 6 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 21. 2 7 Oettermann, The Panorama, pp. 45, 47. 2 8 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 44. 2 9 Richard Altick, The Shows of London: A Panoramic History of Exhibitions, 1600-1862 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978); Silvia Bordini, Storia del Panorama: La Visione totale nella pittura delXIXsecolo (Rome: Ofncina, 1984); Ralph Hyde, Panoramania! The Art and Entertainment of the 'All-Embracing' View, introduction by Scott B. Wilcox (London: Trefoil Publications in association with the Barbican Art Gallery, 1988); Bernard Comment, The Panorama (London: Reaktion Books, 1999); Liven de Cauter, "The Panoramic Ectasy: On World Exhibitions and 25 the Disintegration of Experience," Theory, Culture & Society 10 (1993): pp. 1-23; Vanessa R. Schwartz, "Representing Reality and the O-rama Craze," in Spectacular Realities: Early Mass Culture in Fin-de-Siecle Paris (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), pp.149-176; and Anne Friedberg, "The Mobilized and Virtual Gaze in Modernity: Flaneur/Flaneuse," in Nicholas Mirzoeff, ed., The Visual Culture Reader (London and New York: Routledge, 1999, pp. 253-262. 3 0 The importance of Britain's imperial project to culture and visual representation in this period has been signalled by the recent conference organized by Tim Barringer and Geoff Quilley, "Art and the British Empire: 1600-2000," held at the Tate Gallery, London, 5-7 July 2001. 3 1 See for example Robert Barker's advertisements in the following newspapers: Edinburgh Evening Courant, 29 December 1787, p. 1; Edinburgh Evening Courant, 24 March 1788, p. 1; and Morning Chronicle (London), 11 June 1791, p. 1. 3 2 One notable exception is Scott B. Wilcox who wrote, "The simple dichotomy of "high" art and "popular" art, each with its own distinct public, was blurred; it was blurred but never forgotten. The panorama always occupied an uneasy position in that ill-defined region between art and popular entertainment. "The Panorama and Related Exhibitions in London" (M. Litt thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1976), p. 196. 3 3 Comment, The Panorama, p. 138. 3 4 Comment, The Panorama, p. 87-88. 3 5 Altick, Shows of London, p. 128. 3 6 See Pierre Bordieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984). 3 7 Roger Chartier, The Cultural Uses of Print in Early Modern France, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978), p. 11. 3 8 Chartier, "Texts, Prints, Readings," in Lynn Hunt, The New Cultural History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), p. 161. 3 9 Chartier, Cultural Uses of Print, p. 11. 4 0 My methodology here draws on Chartier's assertion that the task of the historian of the book is to reconstruct the variations that existed between texts in their discursive and material forms and the concrete readings and practices of interpretation. The Order of Books: Readers, Authors, and Libraries in Europe between the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Centuries, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), p. 2. 4 1 For example, the keys to the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill, 1805, and to the Battle of Trafalgar, 1806, each have the following sentence printed at the bottom of the page: "N.B. A person always attends to explain the painting." 4 2 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 165. 4 3 Charlotte Klonk, Science and the Perception of Nature: British Landscape Art in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996), pp. 5, 149. 4 4 Klonk, Science, p. 5. 4 5 Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 166. 46 Encyclopedia Britannica, sv. panorama, Supplement 6 (Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co., 1824), pp. 108-109. 4 7 Boris A. Uspensky describes the opposition of external and internal points of view in the structure of pictorial art, noting that "since the Renaissance the position of the artist in European fine arts as regards the picture has been, generally speaking, 26 external; in Ancient and Medieval painting, however, the artist located himself inside the work, picturing the world around him; i.e. his position was not alienated, external, but internal as regards to the picture." "Structural Isomorphism of Verbal and Visual Art," Poetics 5 (1972), pp. 11-12. 4 8 Perspective views that surrounded the viewer on all sides are exceedingly rare in the history of art. Under the heading "Panorama" in the Encylopedia Britannica of 1824, p. 108, William Archibald Cadell mentions the Room of the Giants in the Palazzo del Te, Mantua as a precursor. 4 9 Stuart Hall , ed., introduction, Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (Milton Keynes: The Open University, 1997), p. 60. 5 0 Hall, Representation, p. 60. 5 1 John Hollingshead, The Story of Leicester Square (London: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., 1892), p. 27, and Tom Taylor, Leicester Square: Its Associations and Worthies (London: Bickers and Son, 1874), p. 2. 5 2 Hollingshead, Story of Leicester Square, p. 40. 5 3 Hollingshead, Story of Leicester Square, p. 40. 5 4 These exhibitions were frequently advertised on the front page of the Times and the Morning Chronicle (London) throughout the last quarter of the eigtheenth century and into the nineteenth. See also Hollingshead, Story of Leicester Square, pp. 40-41, and Taylor, Leicester Square, pp. 447-473 for their comments on the shows of the Square. 5 5 Hollingshead, Story of Leicester Square, pp. 42-43, for a contemporary description of the Square see also William Thornton, The New, Complete, and Universal History, Description and Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster, the Borough of Southwark, and the parts adjacent to the extent of above Twenty Miles Round (London: Alex Hogg, King's Arms, No. 16 Pater Noster Row, 1796), p. 461. 5 6 Barker advertised in the London newspapers that further information on the Panorama was to be had at two downtown London coffee-houses known for the learned societies that assembled there. Thus, among potential publics for the panorama, Barker targeted an audience of intelligent and influential men, able to confer status on his enterprise. St. James Chronicle, 12-14 March 1789, p. 2. 5 7 Taylor, Leicester Square, pp. 468-69. 5 8 Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), p. 95 5 9 Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, trans. Steven Rendall (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), p. 187. 6 0 Anon., "Modebelustigungen in London. Neues Panorama. Grausende Darstellung der Schlacht bei Abukir," Journal London und Paris 3 (1799): 309, cited in Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 107. 6 1 Anon., "Das Panorama. Die Gegend um Brighthelemstone. Tauschende Nachahmung des Meere. Blick auf die englishche Bauart," Journal London und Paris 1 (1798): 314, cited in Oettermann, p. 106. 6 2 Letter from Charles Robert Leslie to Thomas J . Leslie, 2 February 1812, Yale Centre for British Art, cited in Scott B. Wilcox, "Unlimiting the Bounds of Painting," in Hyde Panoramania!, p. 28. 6 3 The correspondent for the Journal of London und Paris made the following statement about the View of Windsor: "I am willing to wager that i f someone were brought here blindfolded and suddenly confronted with this marvellous masterpiece, he would be truly confused as to his whereabouts..." Anon., "Das Panorama. Die Ansichten von Windsor. Schilderung des Paradieses von England. 27 Die Themse," Journal of London und Paris 1 (1798) p. 319, cited in Oettermann, p. 106-7. 6 4 David Harvey, "The Time and Space of the Enlightenment Project," in The Condition of Postmodernity (London: Basil Blackwell, 1989), pp. 240-259. 6 5 de Certeau, Everyday Life, pp. 119-20. 6 6 The circumstances of the fire are discussed in Chapter Two. 6 7 Mr. Parkinson, A Companion to the Museum (Late Sir Ashton Lever's) Removed to Albion Street, the Surry End of Black Friars Bridge (London: 1790). 6 8Michel Foucault, "La naissance de la medicine sociale," in Dits et Ecrits, 3 (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), p. 210, cited in Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Empire (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000), p. 27. 6 9 Foucault, "La naissance de la medicine sociale," p. 210. 28 Chapter 1 The Exhibition of La nature a coup d'oeil in Edinburgh 'Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The Young Chevalier. An ' Charlie he's my darling, my darling, my darling, Charlie he's my darling, the Young Chevalier As he walked up the street, The city for to view, O there he spied a bonnie lass, The window looking thro' Robert Burns, Charlie he's my darling (after 1788)1 "...do you remember what I told you?" "You said we're a cruel race, and at the same time we like pain." "We thrive on defeat, strawman. And this parliament will put us in charge of our own destinies for the first time in three centuries!" "So?" "So it's maybe time for looking forward, not back." Ian Rankin, Set in Darkness (2000)2 Most scholarship on the history of the panorama in Europe has tended to focus on its widespread popularity during the nineteenth century.3 If we are to grasp the potential for shifting meanings introduced by this new visual form, however, we need to consider the different contexts in which the panorama paintings were exhibited. The French cultural historian of the book, Roger Chartier, has alerted us to the importance of "considering how the meanings of texts depend on the forms and the circumstances through 29 which they are received and appropriated by their readers or listeners."4 This historical method applies equally to the history of visual forms and spectatorship. To retrace the significance given Barker's first panorama exhibitions held in Edinburgh in 1788 and in London in 1789,5 it is important to emphasise that the meaning of an image is produced through processes of exchange with its spectators; and that the meanings of images change as audiences change.6 The first panorama vista, View of Edinburgh and the Adjacent Country from the Calton Hill, was exhibited in Edinburgh at Archer's Hall, in the Meadows near Holyrood Park and Holyroodhouse, the former palace of the Scottish monarchy, from January 31 until the beginning of March of 1788, and at the New Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh's New Town from March 6 until June 2, 1788.7 Robert Barker's son, Henry Aston Barker, helped his father execute the drawings for the Edinburgh panorama. H.A. Barker's memoir, heavily quoted from in his obituary, provides important information concerning his father's enterprise.8 The nature of the relationships that were forged between the panoramas and their first audiences in Edinburgh can also be partially reconstructed through an examination of Robert Barker's published newspaper advertisements, the prints made after the painting, and the accompanying pamphlet that describes them. The set of six prints of the view of Edinburgh was issued between October 12, 1789 and March 1790 (figs. 1-6).9 The prints were sold by subscription, in both plain and hand-coloured versions, which would have made them accessible to a market of collectors with more limited resources.10 30 Barker published a twenty-five page pamphlet to accompany the prints, which he sold for sixpence, titled, An Explanation of the Six Plates, which Contain a Representation of the City and Environs of Edinburgh.11 While the aquatints provide an idea of what the panorama painting looked like, they will also be considered as visual forms with their own particularities of circulation and use. In this chapter I explore how the ideas the first spectators brought to Barker's novel view of Edinburgh could prompt them to revisit key debates concerning the use and control of the capital city. The potent combination of the exhibition's context, Archer's Hall in the Meadows near Holyrood Park (the Archers were the former body guards of the Scottish Monarchy and historically were supporters of the Jacobites), the vast distances represented by a painting, showing the view in all directions from the roof of the Observatory at the top of Calton Hill, and the central and confined position of the spectators with respect to the image, allowed Barker's exhibition to function as a place within which historical narratives concerning Scotland's relations with England and the world could be vividly reconstructed. I argue that, at one level, Barker's vista of Edinburgh was able to be appropriated to promote a stirring interpretation of the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745 against the Hanoverian rule of George II, an event which, until recently, historians have treated with less importance than it deserves.12 Jacobites supported the claims to the throne of the exiled Stuarts. 1 31 suggest that Barker's view of Edinburgh, while depicting the modern Scottish capital that was internationally renowned as a centre of Enlightenment science, 31 medicine and philosophy, could also have a particular resonance for the Royal Company of Archers, the first sponsors of the painting, as well as for other Scots, who brought their memories of the city and the history and consequences of the 1745 Rebellion to bear on their experience of the panorama. Within the confined space of the platform at the centre of the panorama of Edinburgh, the bonds between groups of Scots, some with a shared set of beliefs and experiences concerning the Jacobite cause, could be forged and reasserted. Given that the painting and the framing apparatus constructed for Barker's first exhibitions no longer exist, I will rely on the information provided in textual and visual sources to reconstruct, as far as possible, the physical mechanics and material aspects of what viewers encountered when they entered the panorama. When Barker introduced his new form of painting, View of Edinburgh and the Adjacent Country from the Calton Hill, to the people of Edinburgh at Archer's Hal l on January 31, 1788, the viewing situation fell far short of the optimum conditions outlined in his patent specifications.14 Robert Baker's son and assistant, Henry Aston Barker, described the painting's scale, materials and place of fabrication in his memoir: The circle on which my father painted the first view was twenty-five feet in diameter; canvas, with paper pasted on it, formed the surface, and the picture was painted in watercolours, in the Guard Room of the Palace of Holyrood, and being at last finished, was opened to the public in the Archer's Hall, at Holyrood. 1 5 Archer's Hal l had been built in 1776 in the Meadows, near Holyrood Park. 1 6 The Hall was 40 feet long by 23 feet wide and 14 feet high. 1 7 Robert Barker's 32 watercolour painting on paper applied to canvas, which did not form a complete circle, was six feet high and had a radius of just under twenty-five feet in order to be accommodated in the large room in Archer's Hal l. 1 8 And although the painting would have been well lit by the natural light coming in from the large windows, these were not the skylights that Barker had envisioned in his patent as evenly illuminating his painting from above. The Guard Room, where H. A. Barker indicates in his memoirs that the painting was executed, is likely the Guardhall, which can be seen on a view and plan of the West front of the Palace of Holyrood (fig. 7). Located at the central entrance on the palace, the Guardhall's dimensions are approximately 23 feet by 15 feet, much smaller than those of Archer's Hall. The original exhibition of La nature a coup d'oeil most likely included a raised observation platform for viewers to stand on, not only because the patent information indicates that one should be built, but also because of the instructions for viewing the prints in the pamphlet published by Robert Barker to accompany the six plates of his view of Edinburgh of 1789. In this document Barker explains that in order to avoid perspectival distortions the prints were to be placed on a circular custom-made stand or on the backs of chairs so that they could be observed from an elevated and central position:1 9 Being a bird view, the prints will have the best effect placed round a stand for the purpose, about 18 inches high, or round the backs of different chairs, the observers standing. This will render the perspective pleasing, which if viewed above the eye, being quite contrary to the situation they were drawn from, must consequently have a contrary effect.20 33 Apparently, the original drawings for the large painting were not altered in the aquatint version of the panorama in order to accommodate conventional methods of hanging prints on a flat wall at eye level. However, owners of the prints were evidently expected to make an attempt to replicate in their own homes the viewing position that they took up inside the larger panorama painting. Another indication that Barker constructed a small platform enclosure from which to view his panorama vista in Archer's Hal l is that his advertisements state that no more than six persons could be accommodated inside the view at one time. 2 1 With a view of twenty-five feet in diameter, the only reason that so few people could be accommodated at once would be if they were confined to a smaller platform inside the painting. A raised platform big enough for seven persons would have left approximately ten feet between the spectators and the curved surface of the painting, which would have accorded with Barker's patent specifications. The six aquatints depicting a view of Edinburgh and the surrounding country provide some indication of the appearance of Barker's large panorama painting. 2 2 These hand-coloured prints which begin and end their three-hundred and sixty degree vista of Edinburgh in the Old Town, display a vast landscape that radiates outwards from the roof of the Calton Hi l l Observatory over the spires and chimney-pots in the city, encompassing in the distance the Pentland Hills to the south, the blue water of the Firth of Forth to the north, and the Fife coastline beyond. Barker's Explanation of the Six Plates distinguishes the well-known landmarks in and around the 34 city of Edinburgh and represented in the image. Plate I (fig. 1), representing the vista to the west from the viewpoint of the Observatory, depicts the medieval Castle of Edinburgh, which was rebuilt in 1341. The Old Town lies on either side of High Street, between the prominent Castle at the west end of High Street and at the lower, east end, the Palace of Holyrood, the former residence of Mary Queen of Scots, the Stuart King James II and most recently, Charles Edward Stuart who held court there during the Jacobite Rebellion in 1745. This 'Royal Mile' is flanked by tall stone buildings of up to nine stories in height. To the right of the Castle, separated from the Old Town by a deep valley, is the New Town, designed by James Craig in 1767,23 with its rational, American-style, gridded streets, which are shown foreshortened in perspective. The construction of New Town marked the new economic prosperity in Scotland in the second half of the eighteenth century that followed the suppression of the Jacobite Rising, and attested to Edinburgh's status as the centre of the Scottish Enlightenment, at the forefront of scientific, medical and technological innovation. According to Linda Colley, Scotland's "economy expanded after the 1750s at a faster rate than ever before, in some respects at a faster rate than the English economy. Between 1750 and 1800, its overseas commerce grew by 300 per cent, England's by 200 per cent. In the same period, the proportion of Scots living in towns doubled, whereas England's more substantial urban population increased by only some 25 per cent."2 4 New Town was a register of the modern changes affecting Edinburgh. As New Town was built City Magistrates had ensured that immense common sewers were constructed 35 below every principal street, so that Edinburgh could compete in terms of cleanliness with any city in Europe. 2 5 Expensive private houses were constructed in the fashionable Georgian style of architecture, and the nobility and wealthy members of Edinburgh's society moved into the new area. New Town was also, as historian Linda Colley has noted, "a celebration of British patriotism." 2 6 The street names and squares of New Town celebrated Britain's Hanoverian dynasty and announced Scotland's and Edinburgh's importance in the Union. 2 7 It was structural changes to Edinburgh such as these that had prompted the publication of new books on the history and present state of city.2 8 Alexander Kincaid, in his History of Edinburgh of 1787, was not alone when he asserted that "the city is an ornament to the country and an honour to themselves."2 9 Other projects which asserted Edinburgh's modern and international face and noted both in Barker's view and in his pamphlet describing Plate I of the aquatints, include the Register Office (the archive for Scotland's public records built from 1774 to 1788 by Robert Adam), 3 0 Physician's Hal l (built by James Craig for the Royal College of Physicians in 1776-77),31 and the Mausoleum of the Enlightenment philosopher David Hume, who died in 1776.32 Plate II (fig. 2) begins where plate one terminates, and depicts the facing north-west showing rolling hills on the outskirts of the city and a glimpse of the Firth of Forth. The foreground of this print depicts several people and carriages travelling on the road that connects Edinburgh to Leith. In Plate III (fig. 3) Leith, the port for Edinburgh, can be distinguished by the three industrial, conical "glass-houses" emitting plumes of smoke at 36 the water's edge. In the immediate foreground of Plate IV (fig. 4), representing the view facing east, the large, castellated chimney on the roof of the Observatory (built by James Craig from 1776 to 1792) registers the viewpoint for the panorama. 3 3 The Observatory gives onto the half-finished octagonal building of the new observatory, one of the signs of Enlightenment science for which Edinburgh was a world centre.3 4 The new Observatory was being built to house the giant twelve-foot focus, twelve-inch aperture reflecting telescope that astronomy students at the University of Edinburgh were to use to study the solar system, and to ascertain the geography of Scotland.3 5 The balls on iron rods depicted in the garden represent all the main planets with their satellites, forming the largest orrery in the world. 3 6 Plate V (fig. 5), registers the view towards the southeast, and includes the facade of Holyrood Palace, and both the escarpment of Arthur's Seat, and to the left, Salisbury Craigs. The modern Infirmary (built by Robert Adam in 1741)37 lies at the centre of the sixth and final plate (fig. 6), depicting the view of Edinburgh to the southwest. Plate VI, with its dense concentration of old buildings on the small streets that descend on either side of High street, joins up with that of Plate I, bringing the viewer full circle back to the Old Town. 3 8 The panorama of Edinburgh, with its curved format, deviated from previous views of the city and its surroundings. These, due to formal constraint and convention, depicted the Old Town from the Calton Hi l l viewpoint with a radius of only 45 to 60 degrees (fig. 9). By enjoining views of the Old and New Towns and the entire surrounding landscape in one 37 image, Barker's new image of Edinburgh invited spectators to consider the recent structural improvements made to the city. Here the panorama's chief formal characteristic, namely its multidirectional vantage point, combined with the urban subject matter of the view, enabled the panorama to function as a means for spectators to compare the present state of the city and its modernizing innovations with its past. Indeed, advertised as an improvement to the fine art of painting, 3 9 the exhibition of the panorama vista became another instance of the role of technology and change taking place in the city. Robert Barker's patent identified him as a miniature and portrait painter, and he was apparently self-taught. One of Barker's early nineteenth century biographers suggested that it may have been advantageous that he had received no formal training as an artist, reasoning that this would have enabled him to be less constrained by the established rules of art, and more open to new ways of constructing a painting. 4 0 Nevertheless, there is no question that the move from miniature painting to panoramas was a huge leap in terms of both scale and subject matter. What the two genres had in common, however, was their potential for commercial success. Portrait miniatures became fashionable items to collect among the wealthy in Britain during the second half of the eighteenth century, providing many artists of modest talent and training with a means to make a living. 4 1 Biographies of Barker, who was born in 1739 in Kells, county of Meath, Ireland, note that he married the daughter of Dr. Aston, a celebrated physician in Dublin. 4 2 Barker moved to Edinburgh with his family in 1786.43 Although he struggled 38 financially, and even spent time in a debtor's prison, it seems fair to assume from the fact that he married an educated woman from an established family, as well as from the ease with which he presented himself as an artist to patrons in Edinburgh, and later to the knighted President of the Royal Academy, Joshua Reynolds (whom he called upon in London in 1787 to discuss his invention4 4), that his manners and bearing were those of a gentleman. Indeed, this can also be gathered by his refined clothing and his confident look in his engraved portrait of 1798 (fig. 10). According to Barker's advertisement for the View of Edinburgh and the Adjacent Country from the Calton Hill in the Edinburgh Evening Courant of December 29, 1787, the exhibition of the panorama was described in bills that were distributed at a range of venues across the city: "Mr. Barker's, Writer's Court, Messrs. Bruce, Jewelers, at their shops Prince's Street and North Bridge Street; at Mr. Sibbald's circulating library; and Mr. Brown's drawing material's shop, Parlement Square." 4 5 What is evident in both this advertisement where Barker addresses "the Nobility and others," and a later advertisement of February 1788 in the same newspaper addressed to "Ladies and Gentlemen," is that Barker sought the interest of an educated and genteel public able to afford the price of admission. 4 6 As Barker's advertisement in February of 1788 also indicates, the spatial restrictions of the panorama limited the number of visitors who could enter the structure at any one time to six. In an attempt to facilitate access to the exhibition, and maximise profits, Barker encouraged his audience to 39 purchase tickets in advance and to reserve specific times for viewings of one half hour. 4 7 In Edinburgh visiting an exhibition was a relatively new activity, unlike London, where full-scale and regular public exhibitions of contemporary British paintings had begun in 1760 in a room on the Strand. 4 Barker's advertisements, which carefully circumscribe the audience for his invention and limit viewing time to one-half hour, suggest that spectators were expected to engage at some length with this unusual painting in socially congenial groups. By offering the genteel public of Edinburgh, whether they were long-standing residents or visitors just passing through, a unique opportunity to mingle and socialize at the centre of a painting that tried to create a complete and lifelike illusion of the scene from the roof of the Observatory on the Calton Hill, Barker's exhibition encouraged a new form of social and visual exchange in the city.4 9 In Barker's first advertisement for his exhibition published in the Edinburgh Evening Courant, in December 1787, he notes the grant he received from the directors of the Royal Company of Archers to exhibit his painting in their hall. 5 0 The Royal Company of Archers, were the first sponsors of Barker's view, which depicted the topography of Edinburgh on an unprecedented scale. By 1788 when Barker's panorama was first shown, the Archers were an elite archery club consisting of "most of the nobility of the first distinction." 5 1 However, as Hugo Arnot's 1788 publication, The History of Edinburgh, points out, the Company of Archers had initially been a militia-like organization given Royal Charter under Queen Anne in the 40 eighteenth century,5 2 but whose loyalties lay with the Stuart Dynasty exiled in France. 5 3 Known for being disaffected with the governments of both George the First and George the Second, the Archers admitted only those who were loyal to the exiled house of Stuart to their Company. 5 4 The Archers were involved in the three waves of Jacobite activity that shook England in 1689-96, 1714-23 and 1745-53.55 According to historian Paul Monod, the first of these "generated most of the basic structures of Jacobite political culture; the second was the most widespread and the most dangerous; the third echoed its predecessor with less force."56 As part of the most recent attempt to reinstate the Stuarts in 1745, the Archers had appointed a Highland chieftain as head of their Company. Their objective was to encourage the chieftain to raise his followers to join the Pretender, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, in his attempt to seize the British throne.5 7 Archer's Hal l was located in the Meadows, south of the Old Town, while the Guardhall, where the panorama was painted, was in Holyroodhouse, the Scottish residence of the House of Stuart until King James II was forced to abdicate the British throne during the Glorious Revolution of 1688. In the late eighteenth century, excepting the lodgings that were reserved for the Duke of Hamilton, and any of the royal family who may have chosen to visit the capital of Scotland, the palace was empty and falling into decay.5 8 In 1787, the Company of Archers committed themselves to supporting Barker's project for several months. They granted Robert Barker the space to exhibit the vast painting (Archer's Hall), and also provided him with a 41 room in Holyroodhouse in which to paint it (the Guard Room).5 9 Henry Aston Barker's memoir mentions a member of the nobility, Lord Elcho, son of the Ear l of Wemyss, as the man to whom he believed his father was indebted for supporting the exhibition from the beginning. Lord Elcho provided financial assistance and introduced his father to persons of rank in Edinburgh and London. 6 0 Lord Elcho (Francis Charteris), whose family had been members of the Company of Archers for several generations,61 may have played a role in enabling Barker to obtain permission to use Archer's Hall. 6 2 The printed key, a diagram and legend meant to assist viewers in understanding the panorama, of a later view of Edinburgh that Barker produced in 1805 included the Wemyss family seat, known as Gosford House, among the major sites listed in the city and environs of Edinburgh (fig. 8). The house appears as no. 43, "Gosford, Ear l of Wemyss," in the distant landscape above and beyond the new observatory. Lord Elcho (Francis Charteris), had been educated with a deliberately Jacobite bias. 6 3 David Wemyss (who was Lord Elcho IV until his death in 1787, when Francis gained the title) had been one of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's lifeguards, and Francis Charteris reputedly had given David Wemyss 1000 louis d'or to finance the 1745 Rebellion. 6 4 In the aftermath of the crushing defeat at Culloden, when 200 Jacobites were killed, 6 5 the Prince and some of his followers—including Lord Elcho's brother, sister and mother, escaped to France where they lived out their days in exile. 6 6 In the aftermath of the Rebellion, the British government looked upon the Company of Archers with suspicion and spies were appointed to watch their 42 behaviour and to attend their meetings.67 Within this context the panorama painting of Edinburgh which functioned as an intimate setting for the discussion of the history of the city and its environs, may have offered a means of providing the Company of Archers with an opportunity to recall a partisan history of the city in a remarkably lifelike setting.6 8 Surrounded by the local landscape, the members of the Archers could revisit—even perform—past narratives, including their own role as a military organization and their association with the deposed and defeated Stuart line. Indeed, their sponsorship of the striking image of the city would have enabled them to reassert their identity and coherence as a group by allowing them to re-imagine the city's history in ways that would foreground their past cultural authority and assert their present importance. Although the specific reactions of the panorama painting's first audience are lost to us, Barker's pamphlet, Explanation of the Six Plates, which contain a Representation of the City and Environs of Edinburgh, 1789, provides clues to how the painting functioned in Edinburgh. The existence of this document suggests that seeing the view on its own, without this supporting material, was not enough to procure the viewers' recognition and understanding of the representation. Twenty-five pages long, the pamphlet was divided into three parts: an introduction with instructions on how to view the prints; the main section which describes of each of the six plates; and a one and a half page conclusion that outlines how "this idea and mode of description may conduce to the improvement and satisfaction, in reading of history, &c." 6 9 What is significant is that the conclusion describes the 43 events of the 1745 Rebellion which were associated with Edinburgh and particularly Charles Edward Stuart's victory over King George's forces on the Plains of Prestonpans, and his victorious march back into the city. As has been noted earlier in this chapter, the main body of the text describes each plate separately and in order. The descriptions of the plates, which begin with the Castle, direct the viewer to 'read' each image from left to right. Giving precise directions on where to look, the text describes both what can and cannot be seen from the circular view available from the roof of the Observatory. The descriptions of the plates also offer a wide-ranging and ostensibly eclectic mixture of information about the city organized by means of the contiguity of the objects portrayed in the prints. A few examples will give a sense of the nature and scope of the seemingly anecdotal information provided in the Explanation of the Six Plates. The commentary on Plate III includes information on the celebrated botanical garden, associated with the Royal College of Medicine, found between Antigua-Street and Leith. Barker notes that the botanical garden was most recently, "reared under the inspection of the late Dr. Hope. It is said that there is not a plant known which is not here in growth..."70 The commentary continues, Below these gardens is a handsome house, inhabited by Lady Maxwell. And on the near side below Baxter's Buildings there stands a genteel house belonging now to Mr. Allen of Parliament-square...between Leith and the coast of Fife is the island of Inchkeith; and so far Paul Jones ventured up the Firth in the time of the American war. 7 1 44 In passages like this one, almost every sentence refers to a different object in the image, embellished with a range of information from the present and the past. In his text on Plate V, for example, Barker continues with a subject close to the hearts of his Scottish audiences, Mary, Queen of Scots: On [Carberry Hill] Queen Mary with Ear l Bothwell assembled an army, who having deserted her, Bothwell found safety by flight, and she was led in a most distressing situation into Edinburgh; her days were ever after unhappy. About two miles distance from Edinburgh, intercepted by Salusbury Craggs, stand the ruins of Craig-Millar Castle, where the same unhappy queen was for some time imprisoned. 7 2 In this instance, the text augments the visual components of the panorama: a site that is acknowledged to be obscured in the panorama, can be triggered by the image, and able to stimulate a narrative about the Queen's incarceration. As a guide to the view, Barker's Explanation of the Plates animates the prints by means of a sequence of colloquial information that would be difficult to find collected in any other available printed form. While some of its content overlaps with the kinds of information offered in guidebooks to Edinburgh, and history's such as that of Arnot's publication of 1788 to which Barker's pamphlet refers,7 3 it also offers a collection of facts and anecdotes pieced together from different time periods made coherent by the juxtapositions constructed by the representation itself. Indeed the text that describes each of the six plates never dwells upon one topic. Replicating the way the eyes would scan over the sutured aquatints that comprised the encircling vista, the description of the different sites across the surface of the images evokes casual speech—like that taking place among those viewing 45 the panorama. The text thus implies that the accretion of information and overlapping perspectives associated with both seeing and discussion was an important adjunct to viewing the panorama. The principal focus of Barker's text on the plates is the identification of the objects that can be seen in each of the six images. Barker set everything in the view in a perspectival spatial order according to its distance from the viewer, and the protocols of the perspective view provided the basis for his narration that describes the city and the surrounding area as a legible space. His descriptions of the Old and New Towns, principal buildings, geographical borders, hills, bodies of water, roads, streets, bridges, and gardens, are organized by a sequential, clockwise accounting of what is displayed in the prints. Plate I, which depicts the Castle, directs spectators where to look by expressions such as, "near the centre of this plate stands," "parallel to the North Bridge, and between it and the castle is," "opposite to which appears," "a little nearer lyes," "it is situated directly opposite," "to the right in the drawing." 7 4 We can assume that Barker used this way of describing space in order to point out the locations of the principal objects in the painted version of the view when he presented the painting to spectators. With the exception of the brief and lively anecdotes scattered throughout his description of the six plates, space in this part of the pamphlet is largely conceived of as a container for the things that Barker lists. The conclusion, on the contrary, adopts a different language of space to propose an alternative way of using the image. As Michel de Certeau has 46 pointed out in a different context, "description oscillates between the terms of an alternative: either seeing (the knowledge of an order of places) or going (spatializing actions)."75 He explains further that, "Either it presents a tableau ('there are...'), or it organizes movements ('you enter, you go across, you turn...')."76 Of course, this distinction can also be applied to actions that took place in the past ("they entered, they went across"). He distinguishes between these two treatments, or languages, of space, by calling them the "map" or the "tour." 7 7 Such oppositional treatments, or languages, of space, are exemplified in the contrast between Barker's description found in the pamphlet's main body (which describes the tableau that the prints construct), and the conclusion (which addresses the arrivals and departures from Edinburgh by Charles Edward Stuart's Highland troops that took place during the crucial period of the 1745 Rebellion). As alternative ways of describing space, the main section of the pamphlet and the conclusion are traces of how the panorama was once used in Edinburgh. It is to the second, dynamic treatment of space, (which I will be arguing throughout this thesis was particular to the panorama as a visual form), that I will now turn. It appears that once the view was carefully scrutinized in all of its details, and its accuracy was accepted by the members of the audience, the totalizing picture with its inner circle where observers stood—either at the public exhibition venue or in the private residence—could also be used as a place to recount spatial stories about what happened in the vast area represented in the landscape. The panorama's unconventional form of 47 perspective view made it particularly suited for use with the mode of description that involved an itinerary of movements across space. As has been noted, the pamphlet's conclusion presents the reader with a historical narrative about the most successful period in the history of the Jacobite uprising: Prince Charles Edward Stuart's preparations for his victorious battle with the King's forces at Prestonpans, and his triumphant entry into Edinburgh. While the purpose of the main section of the pamphlet was to explain landmarks that could be seen in each print, the conclusion describes a sequence of events that occurred within the space represented by the image but for which there was no visible trace. In the conclusion, Barker claims that all the stations taken up by Charles Edward Stuart's army leading up to, during and after the battle of Prestonpans, were able to be viewed within the illusionistic space represented by the vista of Edinburgh and its surrounds. Although a supplement added to the descriptions of visible landmarks as if an afterthought, this text nonetheless more readily communicates the unique form of visual engagement that Barker's new painting and prints provided. The narrative of the conclusion to the pamphlet recalls with great force Barker's first sponsors and hosts, the Archers, some of whom, now elderly, would have participated in the battle themselves: In the year 1745, previous to the battle of Prestonpans, Hamilton's dragoons were encamped on the links of Leith, the field immediately joining Leith on the right-hand side of the road, on which now stand some handsome detached houses. Gardiner's dragoons were at Musselburgh. Both regiments were ordered with the town-guard of Edinburgh to take post at the foot of the Corstorphin Hills next the castle, to intercept the Highland army on their march to Edinburgh 48 from the North. When the Highlanders came in sight, the dragoons retired through Edinburgh, by way of the Grass-market and Cowgate, to Musselburgh, six miles distant. The town-guard retreating into the city, the Chevalier and his army marched unmolested through the Grassmarket and Cowgate to the King's Park, which comprehends the flat and high grounds behind the palace to the hills beyond St. Anthony's Chapel, except Lord Dundonald's enclosure. The Highland army encamped behind these hills near Duddinston, and the Chevalier took possession of Holyrood House. The dragoons having joined some infantry, the whole amounting to 3000 men, encamped on the plain to the right of Prestonpans, and the night before the battle the Highlanders took post on the heights to the right hand above them. At four in the morning they marched down with nearly equal numbers, attacked and defeated the king's troops; and the Chevalier marched back to Edinburgh. 7 8 The text not only describes the principal actions taken by the army of Charles Edward Stuart, but also provides the exact location of where these actions were performed. I quote the conclusion to Barker's pamphlet at length for it suggests the extent to which the image of Edinburgh could be used in both its painted and printed forms, as a forum for representing Scotland's history in a way conducive not only to the sympathies of its patrons the Archers, but also for other viewers. Inside the Panorama, surrounded by the painting, accounts of the Stuart heir's military occupation of Edinburgh, perhaps narrated by the surviving Archers who had supported the Prince in the Rebellion, would have been brought to life by the fact that the locations of the Prince's forces before, during and after the Stuart Prince's most significant military victory on British soil could be pointed out in the space of the image. Even for viewers opposed to the 'Young Pretender's' uprising the text and prints provided a kind of stage set for the imaginary re-enactment of the events 49 which had threatened Hanoverian rule and a unified Britain but which now were a part of the city of Edinburgh's history. As has been noted already, unlike the way that the descriptive narrative for each plate dictated that the viewer's eyes should rest on specific objects or landmarks as they progressed from left to right across each image, the conclusion's narrative focused on an itinerary of actions by a set of protagonists that took place in different locations represented in panorama as a whole. The locations of these sequential actions, or "tours" as de Certeau calls them, could be traced in the representation only by zigzagging back and forth across the "real" space of the viewing platform. The conclusion directs the viewer to take a series of abrupt alternations in direction: The viewer must first look to the east where the King's troops, Hamilton's and Garden dragoons were camped, then 180 degrees to the west to the Castle where the two forces met up, and then to the north-west, to envision their encampment near the Corstophin Hills from where they were to intercept the Highland Army approaching Edinburgh from the north. As the King's dragoons retreat through the city of Edinburgh, the viewer turns 180 degrees once again to take in the Firth and both Musselburgh and the site of the Battle of Prestonpans from where Charles Edward Stuart marched victoriously back into the city of Edinburgh. Because the panorama was a continuous image, with no specific beginning and end point, it was a form of painting that lent itself to being used with the mode of describing space that emphasized movement across an expansive terrain. 50 As a visual form, the panorama vista (as both painting and as a set of prints), allowed spectators to connect the spaces on view to one another, thereby using the city and landscape images to communicate a sequence of events that occurred over a broad area of land by means of one interconnecting image. The key Battle of Prestonpans narrated in the conclusion does not respect a systematic left to right reading of the image. Michel de Certeau has maintained that, "stories about space exhibit the operations that allow it, within a constraining and non-'proper' place, to mingle its elements any way..."79 Here, by retracing in sequential order the routes followed by the King's dragoons and the 'Rebels', the panorama could be used from different perspectives as a way of "seeing" the history of "The Forty-Five". To follow the movements of the different groups through the spaces dictated in the story, viewers, whether in the panorama or in the viewing situation that Barker encouraged them to set up for the prints, were required to jump back and forth, using their eyes and bodies, from one part of the image, across the "platform" where they stood, to another part of the image on the other side of the encircling vista. Hence the spatial story of the events surrounding the highly contentious battle as retold in the conclusion involved the spectators more psychologically and physically than the systematic and sequential textual description that proceeded from left to right and which located inert landmarks. As a result, this spatial story, and presumably, other stories with equally complex itineraries, literally forced viewers to switch back and forth from the realm of representation (whether the painted three-hundred and sixty-degree image, or the aquatints 51 arranged in a circle), to the reality of their own existence in space, thereby involving them at once in the space of the image and in the imagined 'action' of the narrative. 8 0 Positioned at the centre of the picture, elevated, and at a distance from the places where historical events occurred, observers of the painting (or the prints) were called upon to use their imaginations to connect this as well as other historical narratives to the image. The social theorist Arjun Appadurai has described the imagination not in terms of individual contemplation but as a shared entity among cultural groups that has a profound effect on the perception and shaping of the world. 8 1 A shared imaginary helps to define a culture, and the imagination is what gives it dynamism and generates change. As sites of exchange between the real and the imaginary, images play a key role in the process of cultural definition facilitating the process of reconciling a community's place in the world with what they imagine that place to be. As a unique form of visual display, the panorama encouraged this process. The spatial narrative found in Barker's conclusion was induced by both the unique form of the panorama image and a particular understanding of the past. The image provided a visual setting for the story, but avoided its illustration. Barker's recommendation in the pamphlet that spectators could use the prints to conjure up and to learn about the Battle of Prestonpans and Prince Charles' triumphant entry into Edinburgh, differs significantly from the descriptions accompanying the plates in that the historical reading encouraged by the conclusion was not already inscribed in the image. 52 Indeed, as a tour though space, the story of the Jacobite victory was unrepresentable in its entirety, but its lack of representation in the panorama image made it all the more useful for the construction of meaning by different cultural groups.82 For Jacobite supporters—among whom were members of the Archers—and a broader public, the dynamic trajectories called up by the Battle of Prestonpans and Prince Charles Edward Stuart's presence both in the city and at Holyrood Palace could serve to keep the memory of the Jacobite uprising alive, reactivating both a crushed army and a crushed rebellion. For these groups, the panorama image and Barker's pamphlet conclusion could encourage both reminiscing on what might have been, and the definition of an ongoing community in the present.8 3 The history of the Forty-Five, and of Prince Charles' magnificent court at Holyroodhouse during his six-week stay there, may have been recalled by other members of Barker's audience besides the Archers. Charles Edward Stuart, the heir to the Stuart line, died in Paris in January, 1788, the month Barker's exhibition opened at Archer's Hall. In the middle of the eighteenth century Jacobitism had had the force of a national movement.8 4 But as historian Paul Monod has noted, the threat of a restoration had been real only as long as a viable Stuart candidate lived, with a foreign power willing to advance his claims. 8 5 The "Forty-Five" had been the last wave of Jacobite activity since James II's flight to France in 1688, it faded when Prince Charles Edward Stuart became an alcoholic, and appeared to end with his death in 1788.86 Only then did the Scottish Nonjurors, the clergymen who 53 had rejected the legitimacy of the Hanoverian regime, finally defect from the Stuart cause. Yet even with the Prince's death there were some who would never accept the Hanoverians as the rightful rulers of Britain and supporters of Jacobitism persisted into the early nineteenth century.8 7 By the end of the eighteenth century, although Jacobitism posed little threat to the government, it survived in Scottish folklore. The politics of the Forty-Five was diffused by nostalgic, romantic sentiments in songs and in the practices involved in marking commemorative dates of the calendar. These sentiments were given their most permanent voice in contemporary poetry such as that of Robert Burns', where cherished memories of the Prince's arrival in Edinburgh were revived and romanticized. 8 8 Burns underscored that he drew his inspiration from traditional Jacobite songs: It is singular enough that the Scottish muses were all Jacobites...For myself I would always take it as a compliment to have it said that my heart ran before my head. And surely the gallant though unfortunate house of Stewart, the kings of our fathers for so many heroic ages, is a theme much more interesting than an obscure beef-witted insolent race of foreigners whom a conjuncture of circumstances kickt up into power and consequence.89 Burns used the past to invent an ideal national community that was struggling against a moneyed oppressor.90 His Jacobite poems and songs relied as much on myths of the Stuart kings as it did on the former status of an independent Scotland. 9 1 In its first exhibition in 1788, the large cylindrical painting of Edinburgh and beyond viewed from a raised observation platform, could evoke for its publics in Scotland both Edinburgh's importance as a modern centre of Enlightenment science and rationality, and a past that was 54 animated by the history of the exiled Stuarts and the events of the 'Forty-Five.' At a time when anxieties about Scotland's status within the British union and its terms of representation in Westminster were high, 9 2 the panorama vista made visible and brought into compelling focus Edinburgh's central role in British history. Moreover, by literally raising viewers up on a platform at the centre of the continuous image, viewers gained a sense of the importance of their own relationship to the city's past and its present. Enclosed within the massive painting, they were drawn into the splendour of the cityscape and its surrounding countryside, becoming active participants rather than detached observers. Positioned at the centre of the panorama vista single viewers or small groups could engage more vividly and intensely with the narratives they themselves attached to an image of their country's capital. 1 Angus Calder and William Donnelly, eds. Robert Burns: Selected Poetry (London: Penguin Books, 1991), p. 87. 2 Ian Rankin, Set in Darkness (London: Orion Books, 2000), p. 398. 3 Stephan Oettermann, The Panorama: A History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997); Richard Altick, The Shows of London: A Panoramic History of Exhibitions, 1600-1862 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978); Silvia Bordini, Storia del Panorama: La Visione totale nella pittura del XIX secolo (Rome: Ofncina, 1984); Ralph Hyde. Panoramania! The Art and Entertainment of the 'All-Embracing' View, introduction by Scott B. Wilcox (London: Trefoil Publications in association with the Barbican Art Gallery, 1988); Bernard Comment, The Panorama (London: Reaktion Books, 1999); Liven de Cauter, "The Panoramic Ectasy: On World Exhibitions and the Disintegration of Experience," Theory, Culture & Society, 10 (1993): 1-23, among others. 4 Roger Chartier and Guglielmo Cavallo, eds, A History of Reading in the West (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1999), p. 1. 5 Between the exhibitions in Edinburgh and London, Barker exhibited the View of Edinburgh briefly at Merchant's Hall in Bridgegate, Glasgow. Glasgow Mercury, 25 June 1788, p. 205. 55 6 Chartier and Cavallo, A History of Reading, p. 2. 7 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 2 February 1788, p. 1, 6 March 1788, p. 1, and 12 May 1788, p. 1. 8 H . A. Barker's memoir from these years is lost, but it is quoted extensively in his obituary, which was written by the executor of his estate: George Richard Corner, "The Panorama: With Memoirs of its Inventor, Robert Barker, and his son, the Late Henry Aston Barker," The Art Journal, n.s., 3 (1857), p. 46. 9 Ralph Hyde, London from the Roof of the Albion Mills: A Facsimile of Robert and Henry Aston Barker's Panorama of 1792-3 (London: Guildhall Library Publications and London Topographical Society 1988), n.p. 1 0 An advertisement for the prints of "A View of London and the Surrounding Country, at seven shillings plain, and fourteen shillings coloured," notes that "Orders addressed to Mr. Barker, care of Mrs. Johnstone, No. 6, Cecil Street, Strand, London, shall be duly attended to." Robert Barker, An Explanation of the Six Plates, which Contain a Representation of the City and Environs of Edinburgh (London: Printed by A. Grant, No. 91, Wardour-Street, Soho, 1790), p. 27. 1 1 Barker, Explanation of the Six Plates. 1 2 Paul Kleber Monod asserts that, "It should no longer be possible to ignore [Jacobitism], or stigmatize it as a reactionary vice, restricted to a tiny band of half-crazed zealots. Few areas of political, social or intellectual history can be cited that did not have any connection with Jacobite political culture. If it was never dominant, it nevertheless had far more influence over almost every aspect of English life than any other seditious form of opposition in the period after 1660." Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 345. See also Ian B. Cowan, "English History's Forgotten Context: Scotland, Ireland, Wales," The Historical Journal 32, 1 (1989), pp. 211-228; and Murray G. H . Pittock, Inventing and Resisting Britain: Cultural Identities in Britain and Ireland, 1685-1789 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1997). 1 3 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p. 7. 1 4 British Patent No. 1612 of 19 June 1787, reprinted in Robert Barker, "Specification of the Patent Granted to Mr. Robert Barker...Called by Him 'La Nature a Coup d'Oeil,'" The Repertory of Arts and Manufactures: Consisting of Original Communications, Specifications of Patent Inventions, and Selections of Useful Practical Papers from the Transactions of the Philosophical Societies of All Nations, &c. &c. (London) 4 (1796): pp. 165-67. 1 5 H.A. Barker's memoir, cited in Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 1 6 Ian Hay, The Royal Company of Archers, 1676-1951 (Edinburgh and London: William Blackwood and Sons, 1951), p. 72. 1 7 Hay, Royal Company of Archers, p. 73. 1 8 Altick, Shows of London, p. 132. 1 9 Barker, Explanation of the Six Plates, p. 4 2 0 Barker, Explanation of the Six Plates, p. 4 2 1 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 2 Feb. 1788, p. 1. 2 2 The prints were issued from October 1789 to February 1790, and were engraved by J . Wells. Hyde, London from the Roof, n.p. 2 3 Youngson, Classical Edinburgh, p. 80. 2 4 Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation (London: Vintage Books, 1996), pp. 128-9. 56 2 5 Alexander Kincaid, The History of Edinburgh, from the Earliest Accounts to the Present Times, By way of Guides to the City and Suburbs to which is Annexed A Gazetteer of the County, Embellished with A Plan of the Town and Suburbs, also a map of the Environs, The Radius of 11 miles East, South and Wes£(Edinburgh: N . R. Cheyne, St. Andrew's Street, New Town, 1787), p. 109. 2 6 Colley, Britons, p. 128. 2 7 Colley, Britons, p. 129. 2 8 Among the histories of the city that were published in the 1780s were those by William Maitland, The History of Edinburgh: From its Foundation to the Present Time, (London: Hamilton, 1753); Kincaid, op. cit.; and Hugo Arnot, The History of Edinburgh: From the Earliest Accounts to the Present Time (Edinburgh: Printed for William Creech; sold by Robinson and Co., Paternoster-Row, London, 1788). 2 9 Kincaid, History of Edinburgh, p. 93. 3 0 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 8; A . J . Youngson, The Making of Classical Edinburgh, 1750-1840 (Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press, 1967), p. 66. 3 1 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 10; Youngson, Classical Edinburgh, p. 95. 3 2 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 11. 3 3 Youngson, Classical Edinburgh, p. 159. 3 4 Colley, Britons, pp. 128-29. 3 5 D. J . Bryden, "The Edinburgh Observatory 1736-1811: A Story of Failure," Annals of Science 47 (1990), pp. 451, 459. 3 6 T. Newte, Prospects and Observations on a tour in England and Scotland (London, 1791), p. 328. 3 7 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 23; Youngson, Classical Edinburgh, p. 6. 3 8 Despite Barker's realist claims in his descriptions of the six plates, the detail in these prints is limited to the objects in the foreground, and there are many blurred, indefinite areas. In the middle and far distance, for instance, the foliage on the trees is schematic and the windows of the buildings in the Old and New Towns are loosely aquatinted and hand-painted dark rectangles. Barker, Explanation of the Six Plates, pp. 5-24. 39 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 29 December 1787, p. 1. 4 0 Quin, Biographical Exemplar, p. 19. 4 1 Daphne Foskett, British portrait miniatures: a history, (London: Methuen, 1963), p. 5. A miniature portrait of Robert Barker, in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum, is reproduced in Hyde, London from the Roof, n.p. 4 2 Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 4 3 Theophilis Quin, The Biographical Exemplar: Comprising memoirs of persons who have risen to eminence by industry and perseverance in the beneficial occupations of life. Principally designed for the incitement and instruction of youth (London: Sharpe and Hailes, 1814), p. 19. 4 4 This will be discussed in Chapter Three. 45 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 29 December 1787, p. 1. 46 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 2 February 1788, p. 1. 4 7 The text in Barker's advertisement reads: EXHIBITION AT ARCHERS H A L L WAS OPENED On THURSDAY the 31 s t of January 1788, and continue t i l l advertifed to the contrary. 57 Mr Barker having, from a flight fketch fhown in London, been honoured with the approbation of fome of the Nobility of this country, as well as that of sir Jofhua Reynolds, Mr Benjamine West, and ferveral of the moft eminent artifts, hopes an exhibition of his prefent fketch, before he takes it to London, will be agreeable. It is a VIEW, taken in the fummer, of the City of Edinburgh and the adjacent Country, Quite circular, as an obferver fees it, turning round, on the Obfervatory top. Being fo exceedingly ftritened for room, that no more than fix perfons can be admitted at one time. Mr Barker further hopes the folloing plan of regulation will be generally approved of. Ladies and Gentlemen will find little inconvenience in forming parties of fix; and by fending to Mr Barker, Writer's Court, a day or two before they intend to fee his exhibition, will, on delivering in fix fingle tickets or cafh, receive a ticket for the party in the name of any one of them, on which wil be written the day and hour they appoint to attend, which time will be booked, and moft ftrictly referved for them; but if they do not attend, as none other can be admitted in their time, the ticket will be forfeited. Ladies or Gentlemen going on a fingle ticket muft of courfe give way to certain engagements, and will be admitted according to their time of being at Archers Hall, viz. The firft there is firft admitted, and fo on. It is requefted parties will be before their hour, that no time may be loft. There is a genteel room and good fire for their accommodation. Single tickets to be had at Mr Barker's, Writer's Court, at 3s. each, and half an hour the time allowed for feeing the exhibition, which will be open from ten each morning till half after nine in the evening. As fo few can be admitted at one time, and Mr Barker obliged to be in London in a fhort time, he hopes Ladies and Gentlemen will be early in honouring his performance with their attention, as he cannot be anfwerable for difappointments which otherwife may take palce, though he earneftly wifhes to give every degree of fatisfaction, and wait their leifure as far as in his power. Edinburgh Evening Courant, 2 February 1788, p. 1. This procedure for reserving tickets can be likened to going to the theatre, though the number of tickets per viewing were limited to six. At the price of three shillings, these tickets were the same rate as box seats at Edinburgh's Theatre Royal. (The rates for tickets to the Theatre Royal in 1787 were 3s boxes, 2s 6d pit, 2s gallery, Is upper gallery.) See Kincaid, History of Edinburgh, p. 198. 4 8 Peter de Bolla, "The Visibility of Visuality," in Vision and Textuality, eds. Stephen Melville and Bill Readings (London: Macmillan and Houndmills, 1995), p. 286. 4 9 Roger Chartier describes the new lending libraries and reading rooms that sprang up in urban centres in France (and across Europe) in the eighteenth century as new forums for the discussion and exchange of ideas. The panorama, accompanied by its printed visual and textual material, was yet another such forum for the forging of identities and opinions. See The Cultural Uses of Print in Early Modern France, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978). 58 50 Edinburgh Evening Courant, 29 Dec. 1787, p. 1 5 1 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 360. 5 2 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, pp. 357-58. 5 3 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, pp. 357-58. 5 4 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 359. 5 5 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p. 11. However, the ongoing tensions and armed conflicts that took place between England and Scotland in the eighteenth century had religious as well as political motivations. At one level, the Glorious Revolution of 1688 can be understood as the victory of Protestantism over Catholicism. With the abdication of James II, a Catholic who refused to convert to Anglicanism of the Church of England, and the accession of William of Orange and Mary, James II's daughter, divine right monarchy had given way to parliamentary sovereignty, and the hegemony of the Church of England as the state religion. Hugh Kearney, The British Isles: A History of Four Nations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 168-69. 5 6 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p. 11. 5 7 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p.ll . 5 8 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, pp. 308-9. 5 9 H.A. Barker's memoir, cited in Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 6 0 Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 6 1 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 358 6 2 Francis Charteris Wemyss was born at Edinburgh 31 January, 1749. He was M.P. for the Haddington Burghs from 1780 to 1787, and when his brother died, he became the eldest son of a Peer of Scotland. He died on January 20, 1808. J. Balfour Paul, The Scots Peerage (Edinburgh, 1911), p. 514. 6 3 Lord Elcho, A Short Account of the Affairs of Scotland: 1744-1746, with a Memoir by Evan Charteris, Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1907, pp. 128 and 133. 6 4 Lord Elcho, A Short Account, pp. 128,133. 6 5 Two thousand rebels fell in the battle, and those that were not killed during the fighting, either died for want of aid, or because the winning army killed them where they lay. Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 217. 6 6 Lord Elcho, A Short Account, p. 133. 6 7 Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 359; also Lord Elcho, A Short Account, p. 133. 6 8 Although the city view had its own descriptive title, the panorama's framing apparatus was patented, as has been noted earlier, with its own title: La nature a coup d'oeil (Barker, "Specification of the Patent," p. 166). The use of French suggests that there were no adequate words in the English language to describe Barker's new invention. It also surely added a certain luster to the exhibition, even for those unable to read the language. On another level, however, the Scottish nobility had maintained close political ties with France since the time of the well loved Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots (1542-87), whose mother was French. At the age of five, Mary was betrothed to the Dauphin, later King Francis II, and reared in the French court. Because she posed a threat to her rule, Queen Elizabeth had Mary Queen of Scots imprisoned and killed. Henceforth, Scotland's connections to the French were regarded with suspicion by the English. Stuart affiliations with Catholic France were well-known and during the 1745 Rebellion negotiations had been made with France to send a French fleet to support Prince Charles' attempt to assume the British throne. In the late eighteenth century, knowledge of French was 59 a mark of distinction among the educated in Scotland, as in other European centres, reference to France even through language had political associations. 6 9 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 24. 7 0 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 15. 7 1 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 15. 7 2 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 21. 7 3 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, p. 24. 7 4 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, pp. 5-24. 7 5 Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, trans. Steven Rendall (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), p. 119. 7 6 De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 119. 7 7 De Certeau, Everyday Life, pp. 119-20. 7 8 Barker, Explanation of the Plates, pp. 24-25. 7 9 De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 121. 8 0 In Barker's large scale representation of Edinburgh, perspectival distances were constructed on a scale with which the viewer could identify with her or his own footsteps, with her or his own body. Because observers could imagine their bodies acting out the narratives they brought to the image about the city, the panorama and its corporeal effect could allow for a more complete integration of visual illusion and spatial narrative than any other contemporary visual form. 8 1 Arjun Appadurai, Modernity at Large (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1998), p. 8. 8 2 Tellingly, in the conclusion, the appellation "Chevalier," a coded term for the Young Pretender (as in Burn's song quoted at the beginning of this chapter), is used instead of the more partisan Prince Charles Edward Stuart. 8 3 At the end of the pamphlet's narrative on the Battle of Prestonpans, Barker added, "Similar gratification may be obtained on reading Arnot's History of Edinburgh." Published in 1788, Arnot's publication offered a new, sympathetic treatment of the history of the Jacobite Rebellion. Drawing on untouched archives and personal interviews with surviving supporters of the House of Stuart, Arnot's text claimed to offer a more complete account than previous histories of the Forty-Five Rebellion which were written either in fear of reprisals from the King, or from the side of the victors. History of Edinburgh, p. 8 4 Muray G. H . Pittock, The Invention of Scotland, p. 8 5 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p. 11. 8 6 Monod, Jacobitism and the Engish People, 1688-1788, p. 11. 8 7 Richard Sharp, "100 Years of a Lost Cause: Nonjuring Principles in Newcastle from the Revolution to the Death of Prince Charles Edward Stuart," Archaeologia Aeliana, 5 t h series, 8 (1980), p. 49. According the Muray G. H . Pittock, The Invention of Scotland, p. 64, the last Jacobite arrest was made in 1817. 8 8 Gallantry in defeat is definitely one of the recurring themes of the stories about Bonnie Prince Charlie, as he came to be known during his six-week residence in Holyrood House in Edinburgh in 1745. Handsome, tall, young, proud, and kind (after winning the battle of Prestonpans he won admiration by using his authority to protect the vanquished), the Prince became an object of desire to many of the women who saw him or heard about him in Edinburgh (the Prince's court at Holyroodhouse is the subject of the romantic novel, Waverley, by Sir Walter Scott). A Jacobite toast described him as follows: "A Prince who could eat a dry crust, sleep on pease-straw; take his dinner in four minutes, and win a battle in five." 6 0 (Harrison, Holyrood House, p. 233). Burns' song, which is quoted at the beginning of this chapter, "Oh Charlie, he's my darling" captures the emotional aspect of the spirit in which his memory was kept alive in Edinburgh after his death. 8 9 Davidson Cook, ed., Notes on Scottish Songs by Robert Burns, 24, printed with James C. Dick, ed., The Songs of Robert Burns, Harboro, Pa., Folklore Association, 1962, cited in Calder, Robert Burns: Selected Poetry, p. xvii 9 0 Pittock, The Invention of Scotland, p. 135. 9 1 Pittock, Invention of Scotland, p. 24. 9 2 A source of contention between Scotland and England during the eighteenth century was the widespread disapproval among Scots over the Act of Union of 1707, which joined Scotland to England and Wales. Since the Union of 1707, many Scots feared that the increasing centralization of power in London meant that Edinburgh would lose its status and significance as a national capital and be regarded merely as another provincial town. Even at the end of the eighteenth century, the population of Edinburgh (including Leith and the environs of both towns) was 80,000, whereas the population of London was at close to one million, more than ten times as great. (Arnot, History of Edinburgh, p. 339; and Roy Porter, English Society in the Eighteenth Century, rev. ed. (London: Penguin Books, 1990), p. 364.) As a result, questions regarding the terms of the union and its benefits to Scotland became a matter of passionate debate. The fact that Scotland had only as many seats in Parliament at Westminster as the province of Cornwall concerned many Scots, and added to animosities that had long prevailed between Scotland and England. While many Scots supported the Hanoverian Dynasty, other communities (and among them the Archers who can be assciated with Barker's panorama), resented the dispossession of Scotland's political economy, and its poor representation in Parliament in Westminster. Alexander Kincaid, The History of Edinburgh, from the Earliest Accounts to the Present Times, By way of Guides to the City and Suburbs to which is Annexed A Gazetteer of the County, Embellished with A Plan of the Town and Suburbs, also a map of the Environs, The Radius of 11 miles East, South and West (Edinburgh: N . R. Cheyne, St. Andrew's Street, New Town, 1787), p. 90. 61 Chapter 2 Selling the Panorama in London At leisure let us view, from day to day, As they present themselves, the Spectacles Within door, troops of wild Beasts, birds and beasts Of every nature, from all climes conven'd; And, next to these, those mimic sights that ape The absolute presence of reality, Expressing, as in mirror, sea and land, And what earth is, and what she has to shew; I do not here allude to subtlest craft, By means refin'd attaining purest ends, But imitations fondly made in plain Confession of Man's weakness, and his loves. Whether the Painter fashioning a work To Nature's circumambient scenery, And with his greedy pencil taking in A whole horizon on all sides, with power, Like that of Angels or commission'd Spirits, Plant us upon some lofty Pinnacle, Or in a Ship on Waters, with a world Of life, and life-like mockery, to East, To West, beneath, behind us, and before... William Wordsworth, The Prelude, 18051 In 1789, Robert Barker began exhibiting his novel view of Edinburgh in London, one of the largest and richest administrative and commercial centres in the world. Economic change and rising national wealth were changing the ways people lived in London by encouraging them to seek enjoyment outside the home.2 The increase in public demand for entertainment, art exhibitions, scientific demonstrations as well as printed books and newspapers enticed entrepreneurs such as Barker to London to set up commercial enterprises of all kinds. Newly prosperous Londoners, most of whom were dependent upon some form of commerce and trade for 62 their incomes, participated in great numbers in a range of novel public urban cultural forms.3 Alongside traditional pastimes such as annual fairs, a wide variety of new diversions were accessible to paying customers in London: masquerades, waxworks, magic-lantern shows, cock-fights, hippodromes, puppet-theatres, models, transparent paintings, the Royal Academy's annual exhibitions, private art collections, curiosity museums, and magic shows.4 Increases in learning, taste and wealth among the culture of the greater number created audiences with different values and expectations of new visual and cultural forms than those held by elite culture.5 As this chapter will demonstrate, when the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill of 1787 (figs. 1-6) was exhibited in London's West End from 1789 to 1791, new audiences in the English capital brought markedly different issues to bear on their experience of the image. As I will argue, for a London public, Barker's view of Edinburgh could attest to a range of benefits that attended Scotland's incorporation within the union. But in the art and entertainment capital of Britain, the exhibition of this panorama vista, and that of Barker's second panorama, View of London from the roof of the Albion Mill, the problem of classifying the new visual form became an issue. Because Barker improved on the viewing conditions for his new invention with his second panorama painting, which opened in London on June 11, 1791, this question of its status as a new form of'art,' scientific invention or entertainment was particularly pronounced, especially as some of the city's most prestigious artists praised it in the highest terms.6 The view of London was shown in a circular structure built in Barker's backyard, 63 where it remained on view until early 1794.7 This scene, like the view of Edinburgh, is extant as a set of six prints which were published from 1792 to 1793.8 Barker advertised the price of the London prints at seven shillings plain and fourteen shillings coloured.9 This chapter proposes that at least two different communities of viewers in London used both the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill and the View of London taken from the Roof of the Albion Mill, to fashion and reinforce different forms of subjectivity. Thus while Barker's panoramas were visited by broad, mostly English audiences interested in exhibitions that combined art, science and entertainment with strong nationalist and imperialist themes, I also suggest that the panoramas may have also functioned as a commemorative and celebratory space for a smaller "interpretive community" 1 0—one associated with Barker's initial Scottish sponsors, the Archers, and their friends. London's shows were an important aspect of the city's reputation. While the public in Edinburgh looked to London for new trends in fashion and entertainment, Londoners compared their city to the standards set in Paris. Contemporary London guidebooks boasted of the range and quality of the city's exhibitions, commenting that "though the inhabitants of the metropolis of England have not the ardent taste for public entertainments which has long characterized the French nation, still we see our spectacles well attended by nearly all ranks of persons."1 1 As urban commercial enterprises, exhibitions required hundreds of paying customers to keep them 64 going. They had to be topical and exciting enough to encourage repeat attendance over a period of several years.1 2 Barker introduced his novel painting of Edinburgh to London audiences at the "spacious rooms, 28 Haymarket," 1 3 in the fashionable West End. Haymarket was a broad street near Leicester Square which three times a week became a hay and straw market, and was also the location of the Haymarket Theatre, the King's Theatre and the Opera House. 1 4 Barker apparently chose to exhibit his painting at this location because it was close to Leicester Square, an area associated with artists and scientists of great renown. William Hogarth, Joshua Reynolds, John Hunter (the Scottish scientist, specimen collector and anatomist) and Sir Isaac Newton were the most famous of the many artists and scientists who lived on Leicester Square during the eighteenth century.1 5 One of the principal changes to Leicester Square in the late eighteenth century was that it became the unrivalled centre for the city's public entertainments.1 6 Newly literate and prosperous members of the public became increasingly drawn to the area because of its theatres and amusing and instructive exhibitions. When Richard Horwood, a private surveyor and map maker, attempted to solicit subscriptions for his project of mapping London on the immense scale of 26 inches to a mile in 1790, his sample specimen map depicted the popular area of Leicester Square (fig. 14).17 That he chose to illustrate Leicester Square over all other places in London and Westminster testifies to the new significance of the district in the minds of London's growing audiences for art and representations of all kinds. 65 The three locations at which Barker staged his panorama exhibitions in London can all be located on Horwood's specimen map. The first site, in 1789, was 48 Haymarket, three blocks to the east of Leicester Square, the second, in 1791, was in the back yard of his house at 48 Castle Street, one block to the west of the square, and the third location, in 1793, the site of his enormous Panorama rotunda, was behind the shop fronts at the north-west corner of the Square (fig. 15) In Barker's first advertisement for the panorama of Edinburgh, published in the St. James Chronicle in the second week of March of 1789, he mentions two public meeting places, in addition to Barker's residence at the exhibition site, where "further printed particulars may be had": the Blenheim Coffee House, New Bond Street; the Chapter Coffee House, St. Paul's; and Mr. Barker's house at No. 28 Haymarket. 1 8 The Chapter Coffee House was frequented by "men of letters" interested in science and literature, and news about new experiments and new inventions was brought to public notice there. 1 9 It was renowned for its reference library of newspapers and books, and "chap-books" which were named after this place.2 0 The Blenheim Coffee House, described in 1803 as "a respectable coffee room, with every necessary accommodation for single gentlemen," was in the City of Westminster, while the Chapter Coffee House was in the City of London. 2 1 Coffee houses were extremely popular in London in the eighteenth century, numbering 551 in 1739 and over 2000 in 1800; they differed from beerhouses, taverns and brandy shops because of the wide range of print culture they provided and by the seriousness of the 66 conversation that was held there. 2 2 In contrast to Edinburgh, where an audience from among the nobility, a genteel public, and members of the Archers were encouraged to visit the panorama, in London, Barker's use of the coffee house in his advertising indicates that he was seeking respectability for his exhibition by soliciting customers among a broader middle class with a keen interest in new ideas and scientific developments of all kinds. Londoners in general would have viewed the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill in significantly different ways than their urban counterparts in the Scottish capital. Given the expense, dangers and difficulties of travelling in the late eighteenth century-—it took fourteen days to travel from London to Edinburgh by coach—most of Barker's London spectators would never have visited the Scottish city. Early in the century, due to reports by English and foreign travellers on the stench of human waste that was habitually discarded from the windows of the tall buildings of the Old Town, Edinburgh gained the nickname "Auld Reekie." 2 3 Several decades later, following the suppression of the Jacobites, imperial trade flourished in Scotland making Edinburgh a far more affluent place.2 4 The construction of Edinburgh's New Town, the centre designed by James Craig in 1767, with its modern sewers and Georgian architecture, was a mark of these changes.25 As Linda Colley has observed, New Town was literally a banner of a post-Jacobite shift in allegiance: Prince's Street, George Street and Queen Street intersected with Hanover and Frederick streets, thereby paying tribute to George III, his immediate family, his father and his dynasty. And while St 6 7 Andrew's Square commemorated Scotland's own patron saint, it was balanced—in Craig's plan at least—by another square named after St George. The very heart of Scotland's capital was now a monument to its parity with England in loyal attachment to the House of Hanover. 2 6 For English visitors to Barker's first panorama exhibition in London from 1789 to early 1791, especially the Whig supporters of the Hanoverians who were far removed from the battlefields and the questions of Scottish identity surrounding the '45, it would be difficult to see the panorama view of Edinburgh with its New Town as anything other than a sign of the economic benefits of the Union of 1707, and of Scottish allegiance to George III. Nevertheless, when Barker's cityscape of Edinburgh opened in London, its status and relation to other visual forms in the metropolis was as much at issue as its content. Several of Barker's advertisements attempt to clarify the significance of the exhibition. In the newspaper The Diary, or Woodfall's Register, in April of 1789, Barker tried to explain what it was that made the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill novel by claiming that his image extended the possibilities of art and of painting: There is no deception of glasses [distorting or coloured lenses], or any other whatever; the view being only a fair sketch, displaying at once a circle of a very extraordinary extent, the same as if on the spot....The idea is entirely new, and the effect produced by fair perspective, a proper point of view, and unlimiting the bounds of the Art of Painting. 2 7 At the beginning, the price to visit the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill in London was 2s 6d, an amount Barker seems to have believed the market would bear since it was the customary charge for admission to other fine arts exhibitions (such as the show and sale of Thomas Gainsborough's pictures, advertised in Apri l of 1789).28 However, in order to survive in 68 London's competitive exhibition market, Barker, in another advertisement published in The Diary, or Woodfall's Register on July 4, 1789, reduced his price of admission to one shilling. This brought it into line with other popular exhibitions in the city such as the annual show at the Royal Academy, museums, private art collections and many others.2 9 At the same time as he reset his admission price, Barker distinguished his exhibition from other kinds of shows vying for the viewer's attention that did not entail the fine art of painting. (These assumptions had to do with the expectations people had of exhibitions held in the Great Room at 48 Haymarket, which was known as a place where magic shows and models were exhibited.)30 Barker declared that, "This exhibition is generally understood to be a model or transparent painting, which mistake is at once a disappointment to the Publick and to the Proprietor." 3 1 And an advertisement of Apri l 19, 1790, placed in The World, makes the same point: "Mr. Barker finds it necessary to inform the Nobility and Public, that his exhibition of Edinburgh is not a model; it is a painting." 3 2 During this period, the most famous public exhibition of a transparent painting in London with which people may have confused Barker's exhibition was Philippe de Loutherbourg's Eidophusikon. Renowned as the originator of modern scenic illusion, de Loutherbourg trained in France as an artist and stage designer before moving to London where he worked at the Drury Lane theatre from 1771 to 1780.33 In 1781, he exhibited his ingenious Eidophusikon for the first time in his apartment on Lisle Street, Leicester Square. Its name derived from the Greek words for "within" and "nature." 3 4 69 Thereafter it appeared at different locations in the city including the exhibition rooms over Exeter 'Change, Strand, in 1793 at the Great Room, Spring Gardens. 3 5 The exhibition took place on small stage, six feet wide and eight feet deep, upon which different media, including transparent painted linens, were employed to imitate the natural phenomena of light, changes of weather, storm, calm, and thunder and lightening. Some of these effects can be seen in a contemporary watercolour painting of the de Loutherbourg's exhibition in progress (fig. 16). William Pyne (under the pseudonym Ephram Hardcastle), a contemporary critic, wrote the following description of the Eidophusikon: ...such was the painter's knowledge of effect and scientific arrangement, and the scenes which he described were so completely illusive, that the space appeared to recede for many miles, and his horizon seemed as palpably distant from the eye, as the extreme termination of the view would appear in nature. 3 6 The illusion of depth that this commentator was so taken by was created by using a combination of different materials and methods. In the first view shown in the Eidophusikon, the view from the summit of a hil l in Greenwich Park, looking up the Thames to the metropolis, the main buildings were cut out of pasteboard and painted with "architectural correctness."37 The groups of ships in the crowded port of London were also cut out in pasteboard, and their size decreased according to their distance from the spectator. The objects in the distance were coloured to preserve the aerial perspective of the scene. The foreground was constructed of cork, and made to resemble a sand-pit covered with moss and lichen. 3 8 70 The Eidophusikon was known as a form of transparent painting because semi-transparent colours on linen representing the landscape were illuminated from behind. The clouds were seen to move by means of slowly unwinding the painted linen from one large spool at one side of the stage to the other.3 9 The illusion of reality was augmented still further by the use of coloured glass filters which threw a yellow, red, green, purple or blue tint upon the scenery depending on the time of day that was being represented, and the mood of the scene.40 A l l of these elements and techniques produced such a captivating effect that Pyne claimed, "it amounted to reality." 4 1 While Barker in his panoramic cityscapes also sought to create the illusion of a vast expanse of space that depicted the entire horizon, he refused to venture outside the category of the art of painting to achieve this goal. De Loutherbourg's use of three-dimensional materials set within the real space of the stage, in conjunction with moving elements, coloured glasses, and back lighting which changes continuously, were all stage-craft techniques used to create the illusion of depth and lifelikeness. Extraneous to art, such techniques were sharply at odds with Barker's declared use of "fair perspective," and "a proper point of view" to produce his painted illusion. He conveys the idea that employing other gadgets besides the 'pencil' (paintbrush) to create a realistic image of nature was unfair or cheating, and hence unworthy of acceptance in the category of painting as an art. Barker's advertisement of July 1789 also indicates that the panorama was confused with a second type of exhibition, that of the "model." Models 71 were three-dimensional, miniature sculptural replicas of cities or groups of buildings that were usually displayed on a table for viewers to observe and walk around. One of the first permanent shows of cork models was the Classical Exhibition by Richard Dubourg held at 24 St. Albans Street, Pall Mall in 1778.42 It featured a series of large cork models of important buildings in Rome, different parts of England, as well as a view of Mount Vesuvius (fig. 17).43 One advertisement for an exhibition of a model of the city of Bath, on the scale of thirty feet to an inch, indicated that the show was held at the same exhibition room at 28 Haymarket St. in which Barker exhibited his View of Edinburgh.44 Not only was Barker's painting shown at the same location as model exhibitions, the panorama and the model shows had in common urban and architectural subject matter, the adherence to one scale of measurement, highly detailed and finished work that strove for correctness or accuracy, and a focus on vision as opposed to the other senses. Yet these similarities are minor compared to the differences between the two forms of representation. The model exhibition had nothing to do with the knowledge of the perspectival painting techniques required by an artist to produce an illusion of three-dimensions on a two-dimensional surface. Another point of distinction concerns the length of time devoted to each practice. The model maker advertised that his model of the much admired city of Bath had been the "incessant labour of eight years." 4 5 As if to distance his visual form from the painstaking craft of the model maker, Barker announced that his enormous canvas of the British fleet was completed in less than four months. 4 6 72 As Barker's advertisement makes clear, he was anxious to quell the associations being drawn between his panoramic perspective paintings and other kinds of representation. Transparencies and models were forms that could be categorized as either stage decoration or educational tools. Wordsworth in The Prelude, which was written in 1805, continues his poetic description of London's exhibitions quoted at the beginning of this chapter with a reference to models. He characterizes them, in comparison to Barker's panorama, as the work of the "more mechanic artist."4 7 Likewise Barker insisted, models and transparencies had little in common with the "sublime art of painting," 4 8 the elevated practice that Barker was attempting to improve. Barker's innovation lay in improving upon a painting's form by translating the rules of perspective to a curved and continuous surface. He accomplished this by removing his painting from the confines of a rectangular frame and a flat surface, and by making it possible for a painting to do what late eighteenth century theorists felt was beyond the limits of the medium, namely to represent a total view, open on all sides.49 In one of his many advertisements for the view of Edinburgh in 1789 and 1790, Barker asserted that his painting took in the entire circle of the horizon, and is "quite different from any thing in painting ever practised, and is not understood without seeing the work; it far exceeds all historic, poetic, or painting descriptions of a country that ever went before it"50 Barker succeeded in obtaining the support of Benjamin West, President of the Royal Academy, who gave Barker permission to quote him in endorsing his exhibition. Barker's advertisement in The World, of 19 Apri l 1790 thus 73 proclaimed: "at the particular request of the patentee, [Benjamin West] has given permission freely to make use of his name in asserting Barker's idea and mode of description to be the greatest improvement to the art of painting that has ever been discovered."51 Yet in spite of West's support, the view of Edinburgh was not a financial success in London, since Barker still had to give lessons in perspective to make ends meet.5 2 To ensure the success of his second panorama painting, London from the Roof of the Albion Mill, Barker exhibited the panorama vista in a rotunda he had constructed behind his house at No. 28 Castle Street, Leicester Square. 5 3 Barker announced the opening of his new painting to the public in The Morning Chronicle, on June 23, 1791, stressing the extraordinary scope and high degree of detail of the vista: The public are most respectfully informed, that the subject at present of the panorama, is a view, at one glance, of the cities of London and Westminster; comprehending the three bridges, represented in one painting, containing 1479 square feet, which appears as large and in every respect the same as reality. The observers of this picture being by painting only, so deceived, as to suppose themselves on the Albion Mill, from whence the view was taken. 5 4 In this advertisement Barker draws attention not only to the subject matter of the picture and the location of the viewpoint, but also to the formal innovations that his new painting introduced. He emphasises its massive scale by giving the precise area of canvas, the unusual scope of what the view was able to encompass "at one glance," and claims that the image "appears as large and in every respect the same as reality." The viewpoint for this image was the first steam-powered mill for grinding corn in London, an immense building designed by Samuel Wyatt in 74 1786. The landmark mill was renowned for its new industrial technology, and was jointly owned by five partners, including the Birmingham industrialist Matthew Boulton, and the Scottish engineer, James Watt, who invented a new rotative steam engine for the enterprise.5 5 The Albion Mil l had been destroyed by fire on March 2, 1791,56 just prior to the opening of Barker's panorama. As the first steam-powered flour mill in London, the Albion Mi l l was a contested site because it posed a threat to the wind and water millers that serviced the city with the flour needed to make bread. 5 7 In the Albion Mi l l the steam engines were run day and night, fueled by coal fires. 5 8 There were many who detested the mill and what it stood for in terms of industrial progress and the division of labour (and historians have suggested that William Blake's reference to England's "Dark Satanic Mills" referred specifically to the site).59 Many feared that it would have a monopoly over the London flour market and eventually have a stranglehold on the price of bread. There were others, however, who celebrated its efficient, modern technology, considering its expected output of sixteen thousand bushels of flour a week a triumph of human ingenuity. In fact the opening of the Albion Mi l l created a stir in London, and it became the fashion to go and see it; and, as can be seen in fig. 11, the mill's owners accommodated visitors by building a staircase with a handrail leading up to the roof.60 The set of six extant aquatints of Barker's London vista emphasize this roof-top location of the view—the skylights, shingles and chimneys of the modern flour mill dominate the foreground of the images (figs. 7-12). The view of the city from the Albion Mil l was spectacular. As Barker's aquatints indicate, the skyline 75 of the city is dominated by St. Paul's church. The Blackfriars Bridge cuts across the Thames River and the panoramic image shows pedestrians and carriages moving across its span. The many vessels on the Thames, some pleasure craft and working boats, include international traffic coming to and fro from the port of London, which is seen in the distance as a web of masts. In the foreground of the vista the entrance to the Leverian Museum on Albion Road, with people arriving by foot and by coach, is prominently featured (fig. 12). For many years the Leverian Museum was Britain's most important exhibitor of natural history, and another famous Leicester Square exhibition site.6 1 The museum had its origins as the private cabinet of curiosities of Ashton Lever, whose country seat was near Manchester. In 1771, Lever moved his collection to Leicester House where it filled sixteen rooms, some of which contained the booty from Cook's travels to the South Pacific, as well as large collections of shells, insects, and stuffed animals from all over the world. The museum was originally called the Holophusikon (another neologism made from the Greek words for 'whole' and 'nature'), but was changed to the Leverian Museum soon after opening in London. Lever sold the collection in 1788, which at that time comprised over 26,000 objects, and it was moved to a new building on the Surrey side of Blackfriar's bridge (fig. 18).62 Not only does the museum hold a prominent place in Barker's view of London, but the Panorama rotunda of 1793 was built on part of the land of the now demolished Leicester House. 76 In addition to their Leicester Square associations, the two exhibitions had in common the quest for all-inclusiveness. The Panorama and the Leverian Museum treated the world as an identifiable array of objects that could be collected or painted and put on display in order to be visually possessed as knowledge by spectators in London. Both exhibitions taught visitors that they could grasp the world, come to know it, by gazing carefully on its outward appearance. The Leverian museum was complementary to Barker's panorama, the former the most complete collection of natural history artifacts found anywhere, the Panorama as a succession of views of any place in the world. Both brought together objects from all over the globe, and presented them before Londoners in one carefully organized space. In his first advertisement for the London view, in The Morning Chronicle in June of 1791, Barker made an effort to convince readers that his picture of London, was as life-like as nature itself: "without any other deception than the simple art of the pencil, [the view] appears the same as Nature in extent and every other particular." 6 3 Subsequent claims that the panorama had an indexical relation to the city it represented with objects appearing to be life-sized made the classification of his images difficult. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who had recently resigned as the President of the Royal Academy, came from his residence on Leicester Square to see the new painting of London. H. A. Barker emphasized Reynolds' response to his painting in his diary: This view was very successful. Even Sir Joshua Reynolds came to see it, and gratified my father much, when, taking him by the hand, he said, "I find I was in error in supposing your invention could never 77 succeed, for the present exhibition proves it is capable of producing effects, and representing nature in a manner far superior to the limited scale of pictures in general." 6 4 As Reynolds' comment suggests, Robert Barker's invention for representing 'nature at large' exceeded established categories. For a publication such as the newly researched guidebook to London, The Picture of London, of 1802, which documented all the main exhibitions in the city, grouping them by their status as serious works of art or other kinds of amusements, "Mr. Barker's, Panorama" was classified under the category of "The Fine Arts" and was listed as second only to the Royal Academy's annual exhibition. In suggesting that Barker's exhibition could also be entitled "the triumph of perspective," however, The Picture of London also pointed to the role played by empirical technologies and their importance to Barker's imitation of 'nature.'6 5 As an urban perspective view Barker's Edinburgh and London panoramas intervened in conventional aesthetic hierarchies in other ways. While landscape in the West has traditionally been seen as a symptom of modern rupture of humanity's relation to nature, the panorama in contrast celebrated urbanism, commerce, and technology (while being careful to avoid the representation of the lean-tos and cellars inhabited by large numbers of the urban poor). In a three-part essay entitled "Outlines of a Discourse on the History and Theory of Prospect Painting," published in the Monthly Magazine in 1814, William Taylor, a literary critic from Norwich, turned academic theories concerning landscape painting upside-down by advocating the representation of anti-picturesque, urban views.6 6 Criticising picturesque 78 or rustic views of nature, Taylor posited a radical reversal of traditional hierarchies of landscape. In his discussion of the history of landscape painting, Taylor explained landscape painting's evolution through four stages: the rustic, the sublime, the beautiful, and the artificial. Choosing images tied to progressive growth (like the idea of the Great Chain of Being6 7), he created a new hierarchy which began with the natural of the untouched landscape, and ended with what he considered to be the final and highest stage of art, landscapes depicting the "artificial nature" of the metropolis. In his article, Taylor held that the view of a great city had a higher aesthetic and intellectual value than a view of nature because it depicts man's greatest achievement—the built environment. Taylor's "artificial nature" inverted the traditional country/city divide promoted in British landscape painting that pitted the innocent pleasures of the country against the sinful seductions of the city. For him, the stimulation provided by views of large cities could easily surpass those of Alpine scenery. The world offered no better prospect than the view of London from Blackfriar's Bridge, where "commerce and empire" link London to the world: There I can behold an immeasurably wider extent of builded [sic] space than elsewhere; houses rising about houses, streets stretching beyond streets, palaces, theatres, temples climbing form the endless mass of edifice further than the eye can trace in any direction, and beyond the majestic Thames, with the idea of world-encompassing commerce and empire, which that winding forest of masts is adapted to excite; and all this, my countrymen, our own. 6 8 The pristine View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill at the south side of Blackfriar's bridge, with its perspectival science and claim to a new 79 realism, would more than satisfy the desire for this kind of modern and imperialist representation. With the change in exhibition venue from Edinburgh to London there was a corresponding shift in the concerns and interests that spectators brought to Barker's panorama. In London the View of the City of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill and the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill offered a broad general public leisure and amusement in ways that competed with other visual forms—the Eidophusikon, the exhibition of models and transparencies, the Leverian museum, as well as art exhibits and other attractions. The circular and enclosed viewing space for the panorama images, where a small group of spectators were immersed for a given period by the illusionistic scene, helped them to define and imagine their relations to both where they were from, and where the picture took them in both time and space. But, the new public context for Barker's views of Edinburgh and London did not mean that the interests of the Scots viewers first associated with his invention had completely disappeared. In London, Barker's Scottish connections continued to play a significant role. H.A. Barker recounted in his diary that Lord Elcho, who had been the M P for Haddington Burghs in Westminster from 1780 to 1787,69 both helped his father financially, and introduced him to persons of rank in London. 7 0 Barker also may have relied on Lord Elcho and his associates from Scotland to establish a joint-stock company to finance his fledgling business.7 1 With Lord Elcho's Jacobite legacy in mind, it is worth noting that although the drawings were executed by Barker's son, Henry, during the winter before the fire, the painting 80 depicts London in late spring. While this season presented the city at its best, it may also have been chosen to accommodate the interests among Barker's first Scottish sponsors who had traditionally commemorated two Jacobite holidays, Restoration Day on May 29, and the birthday of the King James III on June 10.72 In fact the first advertisement for this panorama, exhibited in the circular makeshift building behind Barker's house at 28 Castle Street, appeared in The Morning Chronicle on June 11, 1791. The opening of the exhibition to the public on this date may have enabled its inauguration or vernissage to take place in private the day before, on June 10 t h —the central event of the Jacobite year, the birthdate of the Old Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart's father, whom Jacobites had envisioned as King James III.73 Although the symbolic force of this holiday had diminished after the death of the last living Stuart Prince in 1788, keeping the tradition alive by marking it in this new and powerful context may have bolstered a sense of collective identity within this particular community of visitors to Barker's panorama. Other interests associated with Scotland were made possible by the panorama. A superior Scottish education system combined with the experience of a lack of political agency over Scottish affairs fostered an ambitious generation of Scots who looked to London for employment.7 4 As Scotsmen made their mark on the city, they encountered growing English prejudice, being caricatured on stage and lampooned in satirical prints. 7 5 As a consequence, Scots of similar backgrounds in London tended to band 81 together and support each other,7 6 and, apparently, the circle in which Barker moved was no exception. No other viewpoint could have displayed Scottish achievements in the city to better advantage than Barker's picture of London from the rooftop of the Albion Mill. More than a quarter of the view is taken up by the roof, skylights and chimneys of the industrial building. It was widely known that the Mill's technology consisted of the latest advance in steam engine design, invented by the Scottish engineer James Watt. 7 7 Run by Scottish millwright and engineer John Rennie, the Albion Mill, at capacity and operating day and night, could produce fifteen times the amount of flour produced by any of the 500 other wind or water mills in London. 7 8 As noted earlier, the Albion Mil l was located at the south side of Blackfriars Bridge. The bridge itself was designed, and completed in 1769, by Robert Mylne, an engineer who came from a family of bridge builders active in Scotland since the Middle Ages. 7 9 The major buildings of two Scottish architects (both at the top of their profession as joint architects to George III), Robert Adam's Adelphi of 1768, and Sir William Chambers' Somerset House of 1776, are prominently displayed from this vantage-point on the far side of the Thames (fig. 8).80 Thomas Telford, the famous Scottish road builder, was the Master Mason who worked with Chambers on Somerset House. 8 1 These structures were physical markers of how high Scots had risen in the English metropolis. As James Watt wrote, with every steam engine that he invented, he was driven by the thought that in the future his own countrymen would be able to say with pride, "This was made by a Scot."82 82 However the Albion Mil l had been gutted by fire on March 3, 1791, shortly before Barker's panorama of London opened for viewing. 8 3 Because of the highly public resentment the Albion Mil l had aroused with other millers in and around London who had opposed the granting of the company a Charter of Incorporation,84 its owners suspected arson and offered a reward of 500 pounds for the arrest of those responsible.85 None was found. 8 6 Significantly, Barker's panorama, exhibited for the first time in June of that year, depicted the mill as if it were still in operation. Presented in this way, the panorama represented the aspirations and contributions of Scots in London in a new and progressive guise, one that was integrated with Enlightenment theories of progress, metropolitan commerce, and an expanding British Empire, by citing Scottish inventions such as the steam engine, as well as prowess in industry, engineering and architecture. Thus while for the English viewer in London, both View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill and View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill could foster pride in British achievements, for Scottish viewers the two views, in different ways, opened up possibilities for a reconsideration of their status as Scots in the British union. With the two first panorama vistas Barker tapped into varying nationalist sentiments for different Scottish audiences, as well as an English public in London. As will emerge in the following chapters, addressing new currents of thought on both nationalist and imperialist issues was a strategy that Barker would seek to exploit again and again in the pictures he produced for his new audiences at the Panorama, Leicester Square. 83 1 William Wordsworth, The Prelude: or Growth of a Poet's Mind (Text of 1805), ed. Ernest de Selincourt (London: Oxford University Press, 1960), pp. 111-12. 2 Roy Porter, English Society in the Eighteenth Century (London: Penguin, 1990), p. 214. 3 Porter, English Society, p. 227-233. 4 Porter, English Society, p. 232. 5 Porter explains that in the late eighteenth century "ordinary people were able to annexe those features of high art and metropolitan life they valued," and that "there was a vigorous give-and-take between the popular idiom and the cultural expressions of the polite." English Society, p. 250. 6 Morning Chronicle (London), 11 June 1791, p. 1. 7 Scott B. Wilcox, "introduction" in Ralph Hyde. Panoramania! The Art and Entertainment of the 'All-Embracing' View (London: Trefoil Publications in association with the Barbican Art Gallery, 1988), p. 20. 8 The six aquatints were issued from August 18, 1792 to March 27, 1793. Ralph Hyde, London from the Roof of the Albion Mills, A Facsimile of Robert and Henry Aston Barker's Panorama of 1792-93 (London: Guildhall Library Publications and The London Topographical Society, 1988), n.p. 9 Robert Barker, An Explanation of the Six Plates, which Contain a Representation of the City and Environs of Edinburgh (London: Printed by A. Grant, No. 91, Wardour-Street, Soho, c.1789), p. 28. The drawings for the scene were made by Baker's son, H.A. Barker, and aquatinted by Frederick Birnie, an anatomical draughtsman who had worked for William Hunter, the celebrated anatomist, whose brother John had opened a museum of Comparative and Pathological Anatomy on Leicester Square in 1785 (figs. 7-12).( See fig. 13: "Anatomical Tables, illustrative of the theory and practice of midwifery, Reduced from Smellie's tables by Frederick Birnie, anatomical draughtsman to the late Dr. William Hunter, and engraved by William Taylor," in the Royal Encyclopedia (London, 1791), plate 3; and Tom Taylor, Leicester Square: its Associations and Worthies (London: Bickers and Son, 1874), pp. 382, 383-386.) Given the technologies of Barker's multi-perspectival system and his attempts to create an illusion of verisimilitude, it is not surprising that he would hire an anatomomist to engrave the panorama view of the city. Given Birnie's work as an illustrator, his name alone would have conferred a degree of scientific 'accuracy5 to Barker's image of the city, suggesting that it was as "correct" and as modern as anatomical studies of the human body. 1 0 This is Stanley Fish's term, cited in Roger Chartier, The Order of Books: Readers, Authors, and Libraries in Europe between the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Centuries, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), p. 23. 1 1 Anonymous, The Picture of London for 1802: Being a Correct Guide to All the Curiosities, Amusements, Exhibitions, Public Establishments, and Remarkable Objects, in and near London (London: R. Phillips, 1802), p. 267. 1 2 Although it appears that repeated attendance to the same painting was not the norm. In a satire written on London in 1806, Samuel Sensitive climbs the many stairs to the upper view of the Panorama with great anticipation, only to discover that he has already seen it. Samuel Sensitive, The Miseries of Human Life; or the Groans of Samuel Sensitive, and Timothy Testy, in Twelve Dialogues, 5 t h ed. (London: William Miller, Albemarle Street, W. Bulmer and Co., Cleveland-Row, 1806), p. 90. 84 13 St. James Chronicle (London), 12-14 March 1789, p. 2. 1 4 William Thornton, The New, Complete, and Universal History, Description and Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster, the Borough of Southwark, and the parts adjacent to the extent of above Twenty Miles Round (London: Alex Hogg, King's Arms, No. 16 Pater Noster Row, 1796), p. 461. 1 5 Taylor, Leicester Square, p. 2. 1 6 Taylor devotes a separate chapter to the "Shows of the Square." Leicester Square, pp. 447-476. 1 7 Felix Barker and Peter Jackson, The History of London in Maps (London: Guild Publications, 1990), p. 82. 18 St. James Chronicle (London), 12-14 March 1789, p. 2. A handbill for the London view that repeats the text in the newspaper advertisement is held in the collection of the British Library, and there may have been other bills containing more information on the exhibition. 1 9 Bryant Lillywhite, London Coffee Houses (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1963), pp. 152-53. 2 0 Lillywhite, p. 153. 2 1 Lillywhite, p. 126. 2 2 Lillywhite, pp. 23-24. 2 3 Robert Burns refers to Edinburgh as Auld Reekie in his poem, "To William Creech," in Robert Burns: Selected Poetry, Angus Calder and William Donnelly, eds. (London: Penguin Books, 1991), p. 297; H.A. Barker uses this term also in his memoirs cited by George Richard Corner, "The Panorama: With Memoirs of its Inventor, Robert Barker, and his son, the Late Henry Aston Barker," The Art Journal, new series, 3 (1857), p. 46. 2 4 Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation (London: Vintage Books, 1996), pp. 128-29. 2 5 Alexander Kincaid, The History of Edinburgh from the Earliest Accounts to the Present Times, By way of Guides to the City and Suburbs to which is Annexed a Gazetteer of the County, Embellished with a Plan of the Town and Suburbs, also a Map of the Environs, the Radius of 11 miles East, South and West (Edinburgh: N . R. Cheyne, St. Andrews Street, New Town, 1787), p. 109. 2 6 Colley, Britons, p. 128-29. 27 The Diary, or WoodfalVs Register, 9 April 1789, my emphasis. 28 The Diary, or WoodfalVs Register, 22 April 1789, p. 1. 29 The Diary, or Woodfall's Register, 4 July 1789, p. 1. 3 0 Francis Douce Collection, Additional materials (Douce Adds.), I, 38, Shop Bills, Quacks, Sights, Longevity, Bodleian Library, Oxford. 3 1 The Diary, or, WoodfalVs Register, 4 July 1789, p. 1. 32 The World, 19 Apri l 1790, p. 1. 3 3 Richard Altick, The Shows of London: A Panoramic History of Exhibitions, 1600-1862 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978), pp. 119-120. 3 4 Translated by Erin Campbell. 3 5 Douce Adds. I, 38, No. 311, Shop Bills, Bodleian Library, Oxford; and Morning Chronicle, London, 23 February 1793, p . l . 3 6 Ephram Hardcastle [William Pyne], Wine and Walnuts and After Dinner Chit-chat, 1 (1823): p. 284. 3 7 Hardcastle, Wine and Walnuts, p. 285. 3 8 Hardcastle, Wine and Walnuts, p. 285. 85 3 9 Hardcastle, Wine and Walnuts, p. 286-87. 4 0 Hardcastle, Wine and Walnuts, p. 289. 4 1 Hardcastle, Wine and Walnuts, p. 285. 4 2 Altick, Shows of London, p. 115. 4 3 Altick, Shows of London, p. 392. 4 4 Douce Adds, I, 38, No. 305, Shop Bills, Bodleian Library, Oxford. 4 5 Douce Adds.I, 38, No. 305. 4 6 See Robert Barker's key to View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead. 4 7 Wordsworth, Prelude, p. 181. 48 The Diary, or WoodfalTs Register, 9 April , 1789, p. 1. 4 9 Humphrey Repton writes that "In the valley [at Bath] a thousand delightful subjects present themselves to the painter, yet the visiters [sic] of this place are seldom satisfied ti l l they have climbed the neighbouring hills, to take a bird's eye view of the whole spot, which no painting can represent." A Letter to Uvedale Price, Esq. (London: G. Nicol, Bookseller, Pall-Mali, 1794), pp. 16-17. 5 0 Douce Adds., I, 38, No. 330, Bodleian Library, Oxford, emphasis mine. 51 The World, 19 April 1790, p. 1. 5 2 Douce Adds., I, 38, No. 465, Bodleian Library, Oxford. 5 3 In 1794, the view of London was repainted and installed in the upper circle of the specially designed Panorama rotunda, where it was exhibited until February 1796. See graph and dates listed in Appendix A, which was researched with the aid of Scott Wilcox, The Panorama and Related Exhibitions in London (M. Litt. Thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1976) Appendix C. 54 Morning Chronicle (London), 23 June 1791, p. 1. 5 5 John Mosse, "The Albion Mills 1784-1791," Newcomen Society Transactions 40 (1967-8): pp. 48-49. 56 The London Chronicle, 1-3 March 1791, p. 384. 5 7 O.A. Westworth, "The Albion Steam Flour M i l l , " Economic History 2 (1930-1933): p. 384. 5 8 Westworth, "Abion," p. 382. 5 9 Brian Maidment, "Conflagration! The Burning of the Albion M i l l , Southwark in 1791," Reading Popular Prints, 1790-1870 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), p. 44. 6 0 James Watt, "What have Dukes, Lords, Ladies to do with masquerading in a flour mill?" Letter to Boulton, 17 April 1786, cited in Paul Mantoux, The Industrial Revolution in the Eighteenth Century: An Outline of the Beginnings of the Modern Factory System in England, trans. Marjorie Vernon (London: Jonathan Cape, 1948), p. 341. 6 1 Taylor, Leicester Square, p. 446-448 6 2 Taylor suggests that Lever's ambition seems to have been to surpass all other collections on record. Leicester Square, p. 450. 63 Morning Chronicle (London), 11 June 1791, p. 1. 6 4 Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 6 5 Anon., Picture of London, p. 218. 6 6 William Taylor, "Outlines of a Discourse on a History and Theory of Prospect Painting," Monthly Magazine, 37 (1814): pp. 405-9 and 38 (1814): pp. 211-15, and pp. 499-503. 6 7 Arthur Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being: The History of an Idea, 12 t h ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1974). 86 6 8 Taylor, "Prospect Painting," 38, p. 503. 6 9 Hon. Francis Wemyss Charteris (afterwards the fifth earl of Wemyss), Dictionary of National Biography, Leslie Stephen, ed. (London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1885), p. 136. Francis Charteris' position as M P for Haddington Burghs was also confirmed in a letter to me from the Earl of Wemyss, Gosford, Longniddry, Scotland, 3 March 2000. 7 0 Corner, "The Panorama," p. 46. 7 1 George Richard Corner, "Obituary of Henry Aston Barker," Gentleman's Magazine 201 (1856), p. 517. 7 2 Paul Kleber Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 35. 7 3 Monod, Jacobitism and the English People, 1688-1788, p. 210. 7 4 Colley, Britons, pp. 128-30; As Roy Porter explains, "Ambitious Scots anglicized their voices (the Irishman Thomas Sheridan gave them elocution lessons), disguised their names (the founder of Almack's London club was baptized John McCall), and took the high road south: 'Macs' not 'Micks' were the most resented immigrants in Hanoverian England—because of their success: they were the top educators, engineers, surgeons and philandering biographers." English Society in the Eighteenth Century, (London: Penguin Books, 1990), p. 35. 7 5 Colley, Britons, p. 129. 7 6 Colley, Britons, p. 130. 7 7 Mosse, "Albion Mills," p. 49. 7 8 Mosse, "Albion Mills," p. 50. 7 9 Hyde, London from the Roof of the Albion Mills, n.p.; see also John Summerson, Georgian London (London: Pleiades Books, 1947), p. 106. 8 0 Summerson, Georgian London, p. 120; Mosse, "Albion Mills," p. 48. 8 1 Summerson, Georgian London, p.121. 8 2 Colley, Britons, p. 130. 8 3 "The Albion Mills Destroyed by Fire," Times (London), 3 March 1791, p. 3; "Albion Mills," The London Chronicle for 1791, March 10-12, p. 246; The Annual Register, or a View of the History, Politics and Literature for the Year 1791, (London: F. and C. Rivington, 1795), pp. 14-15. 8 4 An editorial in The Daily Universal Register reads, "It is computed that the new mill on the Surrey side of Blackfriars Bridge will , when compleately [sic] finished, grind corn sufficient to supply two-thirds of the metropolis with flour...The mills in the vicinity of London, it is computed, will supply the other third." 31 May 1786, p. 3. 8 5 A. D. Insull, "The Albion M i l l Story: Success and Failure," B.A. thesis, University of Nottingham, 1955, p. 49; see also a letter written by Matthew Boulton to Samuel Wyatt, undated, but in sequence for April 1791, mentioning the L500 reward (Central Library, Birmingham, Boulton and Watt Letter Book 15, p. 36); The owners also published a pamphlet in an attempt to counter public criticism. Albion Mill, State of Facts: The proprietors of the Albion Mill knowing from whence and from what description of persons the many invidious paragraphs and malicious insinuations against their conduct have originated... (London, 1791). 8 6 Westworth, "Albion," p. 383. 87 Chapter 3 Subjectivity in Perspective: the King and Queen's Visit to the Panorama in 1793 On May 25, 1793, the architectural structure called the Panorama, designed by Robert Barker to display two enormous cylindrical paintings at once, the lower one ninety feet in diameter, and the upper fifty feet, opened to the public in Leicester Square. Spectators entered each "circle of observation" by climbing a stairwell onto a platform that was suspended at the centre of a seemingly boundless view (fig. 1). For the opening exhibition Barker displayed a scene in the large circle that represented an event which had taken place two years earlier: the assembly of Grand Fleet of the Royal Navy, the aggregate of the nation's naval power, while it was moored off Spithead, near Portsmouth, in 1791.1 While the painted image is no longer extant, an idea of its appearance can be drawn from the surviving descriptive-sheet or key that was given to spectators to orient themselves inside the painting (fig. 2). According to the information on the key, the viewpoint of the picture was the frigate Iphigenia, situated in between the two parallel lines of enormous anchored battleships.2 The key also indicates that the painting "contains above 10,000 square feet and every object appears as large as reality, by effect of the pencil only." To emphasise the skill and efficiency that went into the preparation of the painting, Barker noted in the key that the entire scene of thirty-six battleships were "true portraits" which had been painted in just four months (see fig. 2). The view of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead allowed Britain's greatest technological achievement, the 'ship of the line,' 3 to be joined to the 88 Panorama's new technology of vision. 4 Barker's picture displayed these ships, each carrying from 74 up to 100 canons, at anchor in two parallel rows extending over a distance of six miles between the town of Ports Down and the Isle of Wight in south-west England. Built with great skill in the shipyards of the nation, each of these massive ships provided living quarters for hundreds of men. The activities of Britain's Navy were a subject of popular interest to Britons who could read the "Ship News" column in the daily newspapers for the itineraries of naval ships.5 Indeed, as one early nineteenth-century writer describes, the launch of a new battleship, which typically drew huge crowds of spectators, was tied to the nation's well-being: A l l the days of battle and nights of danger which she had to encounter, all the ends of the earth which she had to visit, and all that she had to do and suffer for her country, rose in awful presentiment before the mind, and when the heart gave her a benediction, it was like one pronounced on a living being.6 When launched, each ship was christened with a name which it never gave up even if captured by the enemy.7 This explains why there are ships with French names, such as Alcide, and Barfleur, listed on Barker's key for this panorama. The assembly of battleships at Spithead—called the Russian Armament—was part of the attempt to pressure Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia to come to peace with the Ottoman Empire over territorial disputes that affected Russia's access too the Black Sea. 8 Mustering the Fleet to threaten Russia into compliance with Britain's wishes was a very unpopular political manoeuvre contrived by the British Prime Minister, William Pitt. After many debates in Parliament, it was voted down and the Russian Armament was ultimately dispersed.9 89 However, Barker's view of the British fleet assembled in 1791 was exhibited at the Panorama at Leicester Square just a few months after Britain had declared war on Revolutionary France in February of 1793. In this changed political context, Barker's panorama at once drew on the strong nationalist sentiments generated by the war with France and in turn provided support for them. On May 24, 1793, the day before the public opening of the Panorama and its image of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead, London newspapers reported that King George III, Queen Charlotte, five of the princesses, and Lord Harcourt as the Lord in Waiting, were the first visitors to what was to become one of London's most celebrated exhibitions.1 0 As holder of the patent for the invention and proprietor of the Panorama, Robert Barker was present for the Royal visit, as was his son, Henry Aston Barker, the painter of the massive canvas. Standing on the platform in the Panorama's interior, the King and Queen, along with the other spectators, beheld the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead. In July of 1791, before the Russian Armament was dispersed, George III had been scheduled to perform a review of the fleet.1 1 Although the review never took place, the King's role as the fleet's supreme commander may have had a bearing on his comportment during his visit to the Panorama's view of the Grand Fleet two years later. 1 2 Barker's son, Henry Aston, described the Royal visit in his diary: The king asked many questions; and when answered, turned round to Lord Harcourt, to whom he gave the answer verbatim, always beginning with "He says" so-and-so. His majesty had a large gold-headed cane, which he pointed with, and sometimes put into my hand, making me stoop down in a line with it, to be informed of an object so small that I could not otherwise understand him. 1 3 90 In contrast, Queen Charlotte, Barker recalled, simply noted "that the sight of the picture made her feel sea-sick."14 Henry Aston Barker's short narrative, which highlights the King's concern with identifying details in the picture and the Queen's more visceral response, has often been cited as testament to the high degree of realism achieved in the painted vista. 1 5 However this description of the reactions of the first (albeit Royal) visitors to the new Panorama building also suggests that the Panorama encouraged at least two different modes of visual address. As art historian Peter de Bolla has explained, a viewer's insertion into visuality "includes the somatic locations of a particular body in determinable real space—as well as the imaginary sitings of the specific ideologies of the individual, be they inflected by class or gender, within the virtual space of visuality." 1 6 He stresses that such insertions are interactive processes, as social status and gender attributes can be both reinforced or undermined in the sitedness of looking. 1 7 According to several accounts of which Barker's anecdote is the first, insertion into visuality in the circular enclosure of the panorama often produced the sensation of seasickness. 1 81 argue that the anecdote of Queen Charlotte's corporeal reaction to the new visual form suggests that a gendered discourse of sensibility became heightened in response to the two modes of vision set in place by the panorama. Taking Barker's diary entry as a textual representation of two ways of seeing in the panorama, what I argue in this chapter is that Barker's account of the King and Queen's reactions was rooted in a cleavage in the panorama's structure of representation, a split that his account of the Royal visit relates directly to 91 gender. I will show in the following pages the two modes of perception that the panorama enabled: a static mode in which the viewer focused on one perspective point, and a mobile mode in which the observer confronted the panorama's multiperspectival structure. The differences between the two modes was productive of new meanings, especially with respect to the female spectator of refined sensibility, and, in turn, had import for a new conceptualization of the self in terms of the fractured modern subject. The anecdote of the Royal visit to the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead will be used here as a focal point of a local and detailed study of the way that the discourses of gender, the royal body, visuality and imperialism came together and were transformed by the Panorama. In order to examine the cultural dimension of the King and Queen's insertion within the visual field constructed by the Panorama at this historical moment, I will address three overlapping issues: the intersection of the discourses of sensibility and gender in relation to elite society in eighteenth century Britain; the different ways in which perspective could function in relation to the static and the mobile spectator; and the differing effects that the spatial and temporal disjunction of standing on the Panorama's observation platform in Leicester Square at the centre of an illusionistic view of the Royal Fleet off the coast of Spithead could have on the identities of the King and Queen, as well as other spectators. Seeing and feeling Barker's description of the Royal visit has been repeated in nearly every historical account of the Panorama. 1 9 Its suggestion that the Queen was 92 literally fooled by the artist's skill into mistaking an image for the real thing has never been questioned. In his manuscript Barker represented the King as a rational and analytical man engaged in translating what he saw into discourse, whereas he represented the Queen as a woman with highly receptive senses given the visceral effect that she said that the image provoked in her. While the King's attention to the small and precise objects in the distance denoted conventional behaviour before a perspective view, it was the Queen's physical response to the ensemble—the suggestion that she experienced a kinesthetic hallucination—that conveys the idea that the Panorama's verisimilitude was of an order never before witnessed. Barker's report suggests that the Queen confounded illusion with reality because she did not merely see the picture with her eyes but felt it with her entire body by appearing to be affected by the sway of an anchored ship. This was only the first of many such stories, all of which can be traced back, as Richard Altick suggests, to Pliny's account of the competition between Zeuxis and Parrhasios: Parrhasios and Zeuxis entered into a competition, Zeuxis exhibiting a picture of some grapes, so true to nature that birds flew up to the wall of the stage. Parrhasios then displayed a picture of a linen curtain realistic to such a degree that Zeuxis, elated by the verdict of the birds, cried out that now at last his rival must draw the curtain and show his picture. On discovering his mistake he surrendered the prize to Parrhasios, admitting candidly that he, Zeuxis, had deceived only the birds, while Parrhasios had deceived himself, a painter. 2 0 Pliny's story provides one entry into a reevaluation of the report of the King and Queen's very different responses to the Panorama's illusionary devices; it allows us to consider Barker's diary entry as a modern parable, one that has similarly been repeated up to the present. A comparison of the Pliny and Barker parables reveals that they both imply two competitions rather than 93 one. In the ancient story, the explicit competition between Zeuxis and Parrhasios is intimately connected to the implicit comparison between a bird's and an artist's ability to distinguish between nature and a painted likeness. In the modern parable, the explicit and implicit competitions are reversed, placing greater emphasis on the observers. Given the late eighteenth-century British propensity to measure modern improvements against antiquity's achievements, Henry Aston Barker's rival might be seen as the ancient painter Parrhasios. With regard to the competition set up between observers, in contrast to Pliny's description of an animal and a man responding in the same way to two different images, Barker makes a comparison between the differing responses of a man and a woman to the same image. Hence, in Barker's story, George III, whose eye is apparently not deceived, plays the role of the inquisitive, perceptive spectator, while Queen Charlotte occupies the place of either the inferior painter who mistakes the painted curtain in Pliny's account for a real one, or the duped bird who is foolish enough to be caught trying to nibble at painted grapes. When considered as a modern version of Pliny's tale, Barker's account on one level affirms the wide consensus among late eighteenth-century writers that women's weakness, both of body and mind, was the basis of the female character, intellect and social situation. 2 1 Aristotle's complementary opposition of female memory and imagination to male discursive and speculative reason was at that historical moment being recast as an opposition between the female understanding of concrete details and the male command of abstract principles. 2 2 As science historian Lorrain Daston has elaborated, female intellectual traits were 94 understood to differ significantly from those of the male in that the former were, "corporeally grounded, largely determined by women's allegedly cold, moist bodily complexion. Sensory impression, stamped upon the brain as a seal upon wax, therefore adhered more easily, distinctly, and durably in the soft, humid female matter than in that of the hot, dry male."23 Within these terms, the mobility and sensitivity of women's organs presumably enabled Queen Charlotte to seize the painting with her entire body and not simply her eyes. The Queen's 'feminine' sensitivity to the illusionistic power of the image would have been regarded as typical. Because the King and Queen's reactions in Barker's anecdote accorded perfectly with the characteristics that many held were grounded in the authority of nature itself,24 the narrative was not only a testament to the high degree of realism achieved in the painting, but more importantly, served to both forge and enforce gender identities. The mimetic charge of the panorama was achieved both by means of life-likeness and by the construction of a space where the spectator was separated from the outside world. This too can be linked to the competition between Zeuxis and Parrhasios for, as Norman Bryson has emphasized, the enduring interest in the classical tale over the centuries depends less on a simple opposition between the real and the not real (real grapes here, painted grapes there) than on the kind of space in which the paintings were exhibited.25 For Bryson, it is critical that the ancient painting competition occurred in a public theatre because the fictional reality that theatres construct depends on a series of thresholds that the viewer is required to pass through before he or she engages with the illusionistic decoration. The 95 first threshold is traversed upon leaving the outside world for the built space of the theatre; next, there is the threshold of the auditorium where "the conditions of the real world, the world of the auditorium, are suspended, and the space of reality yields to that of fiction." 2 6 Lastly, there is the final threshold where the illusionistic space of the painting reconfigures the space of the stage, like a play within a play. 2 7 While not a public theatre, the Panorama as a unique public space likewise set in place a series of interconnected spaces through which the viewer was made to pass before finding herself or himself surrounded on all sides by a spectacular, three-dimensional painting lit by natural light. In the Panorama, three thresholds gradually separated the viewer from the conditions of the world outside. The first threshold was the boundary that marked the external space of the everyday life of the streets of late eighteenth century London from the internal space of the architecture housing the illusionistic view. The second threshold was established by the boundary between the narrow, darkened corridor and stairwell and the surprising, vast and naturally lit space of the viewing platform or stage. The third degree of separation involved the almost invisible threshold that divided the area enclosed by the 10,000 square foot canvas that surrounded the viewer on the platform from the interior space called up by the picture. Since the painted panoramic vista extended in all directions, the physical space of the round room was overlaid upon the virtual space of the perspective view to a much greater degree than on a conventional stage. And to return to Queen Charlotte, precisely because her alleged somatic engagement with the image deviated from conventional practices of looking at framed pictures, 96 what needs to be considered is how the fictional reality created in the Panorama worked together with the social, cultural and discursive construction of gender and class to determine her particular position both within and in relation to the visual field. Seeing the world In view of the theatrical, unreal space established within the building of the Panorama, we might initially understand Queen Charlotte's response to the painting as a highly internalized—perhaps even feigned—performance which conformed with socially accepted standards of the 'feminine'. The notion of sensibility was central to eighteenth-century psychological theory, and it referred to the perceptual and emotional sensitivity to impressions. 2 8 Psychologists argued that women were more sensitive than men because they had finer and more delicate nerves. 2 9 As the century progressed, however, a keen sensibility became a mark of distinction in polite society, a means of identifying women of the middle-class or higher. The range of feelings and behaviours associated with the feminized disorders of 'the vapours', 'megrim', and 'crispations of the nerves' were all developed within the discourse of sensibility. 3 0 As women began to carry smelling salts in order to cope with their 'excitable' bodies, they learned to use the discourse of sensibility because it at once communicated their high rank and captivated the male sex.3 1 As feminist scholars have long maintained, gender is not just socially but historically constructed. Because the subject is constructed in discourse and through representations and is thus not a stable and unified category, 97 'femininity' or 'masculinity' are never established once and for all. Femaleness does not inevitably confer femininity, nor maleness masculinity; they are aspects of an individual's identity that require perpetual assertion, renegotiation and performance. 3 2 For example, in the late eighteenth-century, because she refused to display an exaggerated and pious sensibility, Mary Wollstonecraft was derided as an 'unsex'd female', that is, not a female at all. 3 3 On the other hand, intellectual males and dandies also took on the claims of sensibility to distinguish themselves from the manly virtues of commercial or navy men. 3 4 According to Stephan Oettermann, spectators in London were attracted to the Panorama because during this period what people "sought was the edge, a tingle of excitement in situations that were easy to control. The experience of taking something to the limit was another reason for climbing the towers and mountain peaks and visiting their surrogate, the panorama." 3 5 Oettermann identifies the discovery of the horizon as one of the key experiences of the late eighteenth century. He compares the Panorama to carousels that were popular at the same time, stating that they both provided a symbolic tour along the horizon. "To the dismay of upholders of decency everywhere," writes Oettermann, "ladies in particular relished riding them to the point of nausea." 3 6 While women as well as dandies were free to express their sensations of dizziness or nausea which were reported so frequently at this t ime, 3 7 such a display of the human body's frailty suggests not only the limitations of human vision, but the limits of gendered identity. 98 In the cross-section of the Panorama rotunda drafted by its architect Robert Mitchell (Fig. 1), of all the fashionably dressed people depicted, two-thirds are women. While such a representation does not necessarily imply that more women frequented the Panorama than men, it nevertheless conveys the idea that the Panorama was a respectable place for women to visit. Free to walk around on a central platform, viewers would crisscross one another's sight lines to look at any part of the painting's circumference. Just as the painting could be seen from all points on the compass, within the Panorama each spectator's body could also be looked at from all sides. Other spectators would inevitably come between another's gaze and the view. When this occurred, the painting would function as a backdrop, transforming the audience into participants in the spectacle, into actors set off by astonishing scenery. For those who could afford the shilling entrance fee, spectatorship in the public Panorama involved watching others in the activity of looking, and in finding pleasure in the fact that one's own body was being observed and positioned in relation to specific social, economic and gendered categories of the individual. 3 8 As has been noted earlier in this thesis, late eighteenth century London provided the public with a variety of new heterosocial arenas. Redesigned pleasure gardens such as Vauxhall Gardens offered evocative vistas at the end of its pathways, and theatre design moved away from traditional interior sets towards dramatic painted backdrops of buildings and landscapes in perspective.3 9 Audiences demanded increasingly sophisticated lighting and illusionistic effects.40 The viewing experience of de Loutherbourg's Eidophusikon can be compared to the time-based 99 performance of the theatre, as viewers were seated with their eyes directed forward, and a harpsichordist entertained the audience during scene-changes. A spectator who commented on de Loutherbourg's transparencies recalled that, "the scenes which he described were so completely illusive, that the space appeared to recede for many miles, and his horizon seemed as palpably distant from the eye, as the extreme termination of the view would appear in nature." 4 1 Some critics even felt compelled to argue for the return of the sparse sets of Shakespearean theatre, fearing that such spectacular scenography would divert attention away from the actors' performance of the play. 4 2 In fact, in his 'theatre' De Loutherbourg eliminated the actors. A central element of these entertainments was the opportunity to observe and be observed. In conventional theatres, there was an aisle called 'fop's alley' along which gentlemen could walk while talking to each other, surveying the house and admiring the women, while the women were expected to sit gracefully and not walk around the house. 4 3 Edward Francis Burney's painting of de Loutherbourg's Eidophusikon (Fig. 3)—the exhibition of transparent theatrical scenes that took place on Lisle Street, Leicester Square in 1781, and which was exhibited again in 1793 at Spring Gardens 4 4 —portrays a man standing at the right in the image using an opera glass, presumably to inspect the view in greater detail. The 'polemoscope' was a particular type of eighteenth-century opera glass (fig. 4).45 Its secret side opening allowed for the covert observation of other spectators in the room, positioning the observer as a voyeur whose clandestine surveillance is disguised by his apparent focus in a different 100 direction. The existence of the polemoscope attests to the growing interest in examining how people presented themselves in public. In this culture of gendered sensibility, the excitement of seeing a woman's reaction to the visual spectacle evidently could surpass that of the spectacle of illusion itself. The access of women to these new public spaces was not uncontested. As growing numbers of women began to enjoy the city's new entertainments, religious reformers were at the forefront of the struggle to confine them to the home. In texts that extolled female chastity and modesty, an idealized domestic sphere was constructed and evoked based on a complete separation of the home and the world. As literary historian Elizabeth Bennett Kubek has argued, "the growth of new public places open to women as well as to men in London posed a threat to a settled patriarchal order, which saw visual consumption as the most morally dangerous manifestation of desire for women, both as subjects and objects."46 Religious moralists warned that the security of the state depended on women's Virtue'. There was a fear that if licentiousness and infidelity spread among women, society would be contaminated, and "all would be corruption and disorder." 4 7 By the end of the century, the increasing concern regarding passing on wealth and bloodlines to the next generation impelled several novelists, female as well as male, to encourage their virtuous heroines to reject the pleasures of the city. 4 8 They reasserted the domestic role of women in response to the perceived threat to society of women circulating in public spaces. 101 Hannah More, in her treatise Strictures Concerning the Modern System of Female Education, which saw several editions in the late eighteenth century, reviled the climate of the age in which women want to learn 'accomplishments' that have public display as their object. Using a derisive tone she fulminates: "Seeing the world! Knowing the world! Standing well with the world! is spoken of as including the whole sum and substance of human advantages. They hear their education almost exclusively alluded to with reference to the figure it will enable them to make in the world." 4 9 Men, on the other hand, More asserted, are more suited for the public exhibitions on what she calls "the grand theatre of human life." For, unlike women, their character does not suffer from being always employed in the constant commerce of the world. 5 0 Yet what More saw as a natural ability in men, in fact was due to a gradual development that led commercial men to adopt personalities and behaviour best suited to the practice of mercantile capitalism. 5 1 For women faced with the choice between the virtues of the home and the contamination of the world, the Panorama may have represented an intermediate zone. A limited sphere implied restricted experience and restricted activity, and these two vital aspects of life were increasingly important to an individual's intellectual development at the end of the eighteenth century. 5 2 By going to the Panorama, women could gain access via a simulated representation to geographical locations they would normally never see in real life. Positioned inside the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead and thus amid the waves on the British battleship, the Iphigenia, the presumed female characteristics of sensibility and 102 impressionability could potentially respond to what one eighteenth-century commentator on women's traits referred to as the broad experience and strenuous activity of the "always active man...nourished on mountain peaks, at the edge of volcanoes, at sea, in battlefields, or in the midst of ru ins. " 5 3 In view of the exclusion of women from important public spaces—even women as highly placed as Queen Charlotte—the Panorama may have offered a place of inclusion. A similar attempt to incorporate spectators within the visual field took place in Paris during the same period. Art historian Ewa Lajer-Burcharth has discovered that during the exhibition of painter Jacques-Louis David's large scale history painting, The Intervention of the Sabine Women, to a paying public at the Louvre for five years beginning in 1799, a full-length mirror was placed in front of the vast canvas allowing spectators, some of whom were dressed in modes that emulated the costumes of ancient Greece, to measure themselves against their ancient counterparts. 5 4 The goal was to enhance the illusion of interpenetration, of confusion between the painted bodies and the visiting crowd. 5 5 The organization of the interaction between the painting and the mirror, as Lajer-Burcharth argues, "aimed at mobilizing the corporeal participation of a specific sector of the audience in the production of meaning." 5 6 During a period of post-Revolutionary anxiety, the specular illusion of the total body cast onto the surface of the painting established not a sense of what one was but what one "wanted to become."57 Such complex and unusual circumstances for viewing art can be compared to the unprecedented experience of being situated at the centre of a painted vista in the 103 Panorama. Both viewing situations placed the beholder 'inside' a representation that forced them to reflect on their place in the world. Like a mirror, the panorama's form made the viewer self-conscious; the image stood as a backdrop against which the observer could try to identify. However, in contrast with David's evocation of valour of the Sabines of antiquity, the Panorama placed the spectator in the modern world, at the centre of Britain's Russian Armament, poised for action against maritime forces of Catherine the Great of Russia. Thus, in a way that seemed to rival other forms of representation, the panoramic vista depicting the masculine domain of Britain's Royal Navy allowed the female beholder the vicarious pleasure of occupying a viewpoint normally reserved for a man of the world. The Panorama as a new framework for visual perception But the viewer's perception and judgment of what was seen in the panoramic apparatus was dependent on how it was seen. From yet another perspective, the conflicting responses to the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead on the parts of the King and Queen that were registered in Barker's anecdote may derive from the extraordinary spatial effects of a heterotopia. Michel Foucault defines a heterotopia as an enclosed site composed of heterogeneous spaces that "have the curious property of being in relation with all the other sites, but in such a way as to suspect, neutralize, or invert the set of relations that they happen to designate, mirror or reflect." 5 8 Describing the ship as the greatest reserve of the imagination, Foucault acknowledges it as a heterotopia par excellence: "the 104 boat is a floating piece of space, a place without a place, that exists by itself, that is closed in on itself and at the same time given over to the infinity of the sea." 5 9 As a place that is simultaneously mythic and real, a heterotopia's meaning is arrived at through its peculiar attribute of referring to the space outside of its boundary in such a way as to define that space's particular lack. Thus the heterotopia stands as a 'counter-site' which allows for the recognition of a problem with the conventional spaces of lived experience. The notion of a heterotopia provides a way of approaching what I call here the dual nature of the Panorama, that is, its two-fold structure of representation, which depended on whether a viewer was static—taking in one perspective view, or mobile—confronted with a series of perspectival vistas. These oscillating experiences of viewing can be understood as typified on the one hand by the King's rational inquiries concerning the objects represented in the image and, on the other, by the effect the illusion was seen to produce on the body of the Queen. The Royal couple, as the nation's exemplary husband and wife, negotiated traditional gender roles, and these are registered in the anecdote's stress on the authority of the King and the implied transport of the Queen. During the Royal family's visit to the Panorama, the King's relation to the scene was as the Royal Navy's supreme commander who customarily performed reviews of the fleet.6 0 Conversely, the Queen's relation to the image was that of an onlooker. The King and Queen were engaged in different processes of looking. But gender and experience stand in a complex relation to the structure of representation encountered in the Panorama, at once determining accounts like Barker's while also 105 indicating that significantly conflicting forms of comprehending the scene could be experienced by different viewers. Here, an analysis of how perspective works in panoramic representations will suggest that the apparently gender-based distinction between the King and Queen's response to the view was reinforced by the two modes of perception enabled by the panorama—the static and perspectival and the mobile and physiological. The Panorama's painted landscapes were composed from six to eight rectangular drawings, executed at the site with the aid of a gridded perspective frame known as 'Alberti's veil'. The series of sketches would have been joined together to form a polygon, and their edges blended together to form a complete circle within the rotunda. 6 1 According to Barker's account, the King pointed to the painted view of the Grand Fleet with his cane and put it in Henry Aston Barker's hand, who bent down to be in a line with it so that they both could assume the same viewpoint. By elevating his cane towards the horizon line, the King mimicked the converging orthogonal lines of the perspective view, and established a fixed position for himself as spectator outside the space of the representation. Perspective theory involves the imposition of various distances between the viewer and the picture. 'The distance of the picture' is the mathematical distance that the spectator must stand in front of the picture plane so that the perspective image can be viewed correctly.6 2 As Peter de Bolla has argued in The Discourse of the Sublime, the "prescription of the various distances involved in a perspective representation is one of the most forceful forms of legislation executed by theory over the practice of viewing." 6 3 From this distance, the spectator is presumed to occupy the 106 same viewpoint as the artist when he created the image. Thus, perspectival representation not only makes an absence present, it constitutes the observer as the looking subject and it does so by attempting to restrict her or him to the artist's point of view. 6 4 Indeed, Barker's description of the King's experience of the image is consistent with a model of subjectivity theorized by eighteenth-century perspective treatises that attempted to restrict the viewing subject to its proper place—understood as 'the true point of sight'.65 Albertian perspective's true point of sight not only promises trompe I'oeil^ but also represents the subject to itself as a measurable, visible whole. By standing still at a specific distance from the focal point of a perspective view, the subject obtains an illusion of self-mastery. From the vantagepoint of 'the true point of sight', as de Bolla has explained, "the viewing subject is no longer subjected to representation but becomes the master of it, master of subjection, master of itself."6 6 The static and disembodied work of looking—ascribed to the King as the supreme commander of all he surveys—depends on the subject's contemplation of the image from a fixed distance. This is one side of the two-fold structure of representation inherent in the Panorama's form. The King's stationary, centred viewpoint found its counterpart in the two ships that were clearly highlighted in the key to the view. Unlike an anonymous sketch of Britain's Royal Fleet at Spithead that does not distinguish any of the 'ships of the line' (fig. 5), the Panorama key divides the two lines of ships into two separate views, identifying two specific focal points for the image. Thus, despite being situated well to the left of the centre 107 of the key, the ships named Monarch and Carnatic are depicted as central in the representation because they bear the highest masts. We can imagine these two focal points as organizing the view of the image in the panorama. That the key indicates the effect of the wind on the pennants conveys the pivotal positions that the Monarch and Carnatic assumed. A close reading of the key indicates that the flags of these two ships are flying in the same direction, and that they are invisible on the key because they are in fact in line with each other. The visual effect of the directional flags on the key serves to join the lower and upper lines of the ships together to form a continuous circuit that would have encouraged the viewer to align the schematic diagram of the key with the painted image in the cylinder. In the Panorama, these two ships would have been depicted facing each other, with the viewer at the centre point of the axis between them. Judging by the key, the ships on either side of the Monarch and the Carnatic in the panorama would have gradually decreased in size according to the rules of perspective. Indeed, given that 'Carnatic' was the European name of the region in southern India coming under increasing British control (fig. 6),67 the flags and the decreasing size of the masts on the key might suggest that it was not merely wind but power that emanated from the Monarch towards the Carnatic. Thus, despite their rank as third rate ships, the Monarch and Carnatic's strategic arrangement on the key can be taken to symbolize a top-down relation of power between the actual monarch of the British nation and one of his potential colonies. Hence while the key established one focal point for each of the two 180 degree views, when joined together they 108 constructed an image in which the forces of nature colluded to legitimize Britain's authority over this foreign territory. In contrast, the description of the Queen's seasickness, as a motion sickness suggests that, instead of having such focal points determine her position in space, she moved her body and eyes along the surface of the canvas. As noted previously, the panoramic image was composed by the juxtaposition of several images. Perspective views would have been adjusted to the cylindrical form of the panorama, according the viewer a central, mobile position within its representation. Unlike flat perspective views that specify one position for the viewing subject, the panorama placed the spectator at the centre of multiple vanishing points that he or she could not grasp all at once. However, as perspective theorist Joshua Kirby, writing in the eighteenth century, warned, looking at pictures from any other position than the 'true point of sight' produced a disorienting effect: But if the eye is not placed in the true point of sight, the projections of all objects, which are not parallel to the picture, will not seem to tend to their proper vanishing points; and for that reason, such representations will appear as starting out of their proper places, will lose their just proportions, and consequently will not convey absolute and perfect appearances to the eye of the spectator, viz. such as are strictly to be deemed mathematical projections. And to this we may add the bad effect it will have upon the horizontal line in particular, which is always determined by the place of the eye. 6 8 Indeed, as Kirby points out, distortion of the image with respect to the horizon line is even more pronounced in pictures painted upon curved surfaces. Thus, when the viewer moves across multiple perspective views on a curved painting, he or she interferes with the visual rays that constitute the image and the appearance of the object changes. In an attempt to explain this phenomenon, de Bolla asserts that whenever the 109 subject moves along an image comprised of multiple viewpoints, "the possibility of its producing something in excess, an image that goes beyond the 'real', poses a considerable threat to the horizons which determine the order of representation." 6 9 The panorama's curvilinear representational form encouraged a physiologically based mode of perception—such as we can presume was practised by the Queen—one that was neither tied to the strictures of perspective theory, nor to the constraints of discourse. As this discussion of perspective construction suggests, while Barker's anecdote implies that the Queen witnessed a Zeuxian-like mirage, the sea-sick effect he says she experienced may in fact have been caused by the failure of perspective to hide its own mechanisms of display. By multiplying the views in a continuous circle, the viewer was forced to move inside the painting, traversing the perspectival rays that constructed the image, a mode of looking which made the perspective illusion less effective. Instead of observing the image as an unmediated copy of reality, as Barker had hoped, the mobile subject witnessed the material signs of the representation's construction—including its distortions. Scanning in rapid succession a number of viewpoints on the horizon of the view would create a choppy, unnatural effect, as eighteenth-century perspective theory warned. Indeed, any seasickness the Queen may have felt in the Panorama was likely caused by the relatively small diameter of the Panorama rotunda as compared to the space represented in the picture: it was a consequence of the complexity involved in looking at a three-dimensional perspectival projection of space within a three-dimensional, cylindrical canvas. As Oettermann describes the effect, "as observers adjusted their eyes to the 110 illusion of distant vistas, and then they walked around on the platform, it seemed as if they were wearing seven-league boots and covering vast distances with each step. People became disoriented and likely to stumble." 7 0 Certain viewers felt a mild motion sickness from the panorama for the same reason that people become seasick on a boat: the contradictory messages received in the brain from the body. In other words, the use of perspectival construction in a novel circular form created disjunctions in time and space that produced a corporeal reaction that was neither exclusive to Queen Charlotte, nor to women in general. Nevertheless, because such a reaction was perceived as a sign of weak and delicate nerves, the same response displayed by men was considered effeminate and unmanly. Thus, while the Queen's purported seasickness may have purposefully corresponded with the maritime narrative of the depicted scene, her response was more likely caused by the failure of trompe I'oeil than its achievement. In contrast to positioning oneself at 'the distance of the picture', the viewing location from which the representation constructs the subject as unitary and all seeing, de Bolla describes the polyvalent point of view as a sublime and excessive practice of looking in which the subject moves between multiple points of sight. This mobile and temporal work of looking vis-a-vis representation involves a self-authenticating subject who brings her or his own point of view to the image, thereby renouncing both the artist's perception and the laws of perspective.7 1 De Bolla's work deals with a deviant practice of viewing limited to large, horizontal, and planar landscapes, but it has particular resonance with regard to the spectator within the Panorama. His description of a mobile and temporal process of I l l looking at a series of disconnected viewpoints accords fully with the other side of the Panorama's dual structure of representation; this was activated by a viewer moving across multiple points of sight along the curved surface of the image. Unlike the subject produced by and subjected to the perspective view, in this ambulatory mode of apprehension the self is not unique and produced all at once, but takes on a temporal dimension. 7 2 This kind of subjective, physiological viewing plays with limits: the boundaries between the self and the object. In contrast to the sense of self-mastery and unity afforded the viewer by single point perspective, the mobile or polyvalent point of view encouraged if not demanded by the Panorama's size and circular form participated in new ways of thinking about the subject. While gender stereotypes predisposed the Queen to display her higher sensibility before the spectacular scene, this performance does not obviate actual experiences that are outside the norm of masculinized discourse. Thus her performance, while operating as a constraint, also gave her greater freedom to engage in the mode of perception that produced a fragmented subject, a form of subjectivity that was at the centre of fierce debates concerning perception.7 3 The two modes of vision and perception that the Panorama set in place accommodated both the early modern and modern conceptions of vision. As historian of vision Jonathan Crary has noted, the theoretical displacement of Cartesian perspectivalism in the late eighteenth century and early nineteenth century was linked to the shift from geometrical optics to a physiological account of vision. Crary describes a paradigmatic shift from the camera obscura as the model of an objective vision in which the body stands outside of the visual operation, to a modern theory which holds 112 that the body with its complex of nerves and retinal surfaces produces a subjective vision relatively indifferent to empirical accuracy. 7 4 Research into the holistic phenomena of vision and visuality developed out of the science of optics and led to a new conception of vision as both mental image and somatic effect.75 Within the Panorama's enclosed space, perspectival illusionism had the potential to fuse with the body's sensual apprehensions. Furthermore, the multiple perspectival views of the panorama induced the viewer to move across the image, contributing to the production of a sensitive and sensitized observer. This mode of visual address thus developed at the same time as a new concept of sight in which vision was directly tied to the dynamic movement of the body through space. At the same time, as philosophers such as Pierre Maine de Biran, were reformulating and expanding Descartes' notion of the cogito, "I think therefore I am," into "I exist because I move and I think," 7 6 the Panorama provided an arena for this new sense of self. It is through the sensate body that one has a sense of being a subject, and through the act of looking the awareness of one's body in the Panorama was magnified and strengthened at once internally, by the somatic effect caused by viewing the image in the space, and externally, by being an object of sight for others in the circular architectural enclosure. Such developments in perceptual theory suggest a change in the social meaning of the discourse of sensibility. The two modes of vision and perception within the panorama—the static and perspectival and the mobile and physiological—had the potential to affect either women or men, and was not mutually exclusive in spite of the fact that each mode depended on the failure of the other. Judging from the Panorama's 113 popularity, the physical rush many seem to have experienced within this new space, was in fact a highly sought-after sensation which worked to configure the discourse of sensibility in a new way. Far from the delusional feminized state of mind associated with this discourse, sensibility with regard to the spectator in the Panorama must have involved an awareness of the body's particular sensual response to the power of representation. Different forms of lived spatiality of course have an effect on the ways women and men conceive of and use space. Functioning in two opposing ways, a heterotopia can either offer an 'other' space of compensation for those who seek absolute order and control, or it can provide a space of illusion, an imaginary site outside of conventional social constraints. 7 7 Thus, the King as the commander of the British Fleet assumed a position of mastery and authority before the representation. Taking up a fixed position with regard to the picture—effectively experiencing it in the same way as he would a conventional, planar perspective view—involved the production of a space that was another 'real' space, that was as perfect and precise as the space outside was chaotic and confused. Relying on the order imposed by the perspectival construction to reinforce his own position in the social and global hierarchy, this mode of perception could assure the sovereign, and all spectators who looked at the image in this way, that everything had been carefully measured, and that everything was in its proper place. Clearly, however, the temporal experience of seeing an illusion of three-dimensions in all directions produced unanticipated results. The physiological, mobile act of looking practiced by the Queen, worked against the first, undermining its claim, based on Albertian perspective, to portray 114 an objective visual truth. Despite the key's attempt to drive the viewer's eyes towards the two ships it placed at the centre of the picture, the three-hundred and sixty-degree painting drew the spectator's attention to other parts of the image, including the artificial mechanisms that structured the view. This is what happened when the Queen did not follow the rules of perspective. In this chapter I have explored some of the gendered discourses about viewing and perception that happened to conform to two different material aspects of the Panorama: the use of perspective to depict the battleships on the immense sheets of canvas and the cylindrical space in which viewers were encouraged to experience the space physiologically. The King's stationary viewpoint aimed at consensus and order, the perfect alignment of every spectator's vision with that of the artist, while the Queen's polyvalent point of view was connected to individual bodily experience. These oppositional modes of spectatorship fed into contemporary philosophical debates concerning objective shared perceptions and the subjective position of the individual. I have suggested that the two modes of perception—the static and perspectival, and the mobile and physiological—had the power to affect both men and women equally. In the social space of the viewing platform, the act of looking destabilized what was considered to constitute male and female perception. But I have also suggested that in practice not only Queen Charlotte, but potentially every visitor to the space saw the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree painting with her or his own eyes, but experienced it with her or his individual body. 115 1 For a discussion of the political situation that led to the assembly of the Russian Armament, see The Annual Register, or a view of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1792 33 (London: F. and C. Rivington, London, St. Paul's Church-Yard, 1795), p. 99. 2 According to Stephan Oettermann, the viewing platform for the scene was made up to look like the deck of the Iphigenia. The Panorama: History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997), p. 105. 3 "At a displacement of up to 2,500 tons this line of battle ships were far larger than anything available for civilian use, and they each carried more guns than an army. As A. D. Harvey, Collision of Empires (London and Rio Grande: Hambledon, 1992), p. 120, notes, "the largest siege pieces used in the British army were 24-pounders. Most line of battleships carried 32-pounders, each 90 foot 6 inches long and weighing 55 1/2 cwt; some carried a lower-deck armament of 42-pounders." 4 The View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead is in keeping with Barker's first two views, which depict scenes taken from the viewpoint of the Edinburgh Observatory, and the Albion Mills, the world's first steam-powered flour mill. 5 For example, "Ship News" in the Times, 11 December 1802, p. 4, recorded the international arrivals and departures of British and foreign ships and their Captains at Plymouth on Dec. 8, and at Dover, on Dec. 9,1802. 6 Thomas Campbell, An Essay on English Poetry, (Boston: 1819), cited in Harvey, Collision of Empires, pp. 226-27. 7 Harvey, Collision of Empires, p. 8 See The Annual Register, or a view of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1792 33 (London: F. and C. Rivington, London, St. Paul's Church-Yard, 1795), p. 99. 9 Earl Stanhope, Life of The Right Honourable William Pitt, vol. 2 (London: John Murray, 1861), pp. 114-15. 1 0 See Morning Chronicle (London) and Times, 25 May 1793. Also, on the day of the Royal visit, 24 May 1793, the Master of the Horse at Windsor Castle noted in his diary: "The King went to see the Panorama in Leicester Square, in the Levee Coach." Letter to the author from Pamela Clark, Deputy Registrar, The Royal Archives, Windsor Castle, Berkshire, 11 March 1997. 1 1 This event was instituted by George III in 1773. Brian Izzard, "I See No Ships," International Express, (Canadian Edition) 20-26 February, 2001, pp. 1, 5. 1 2 The King never left Windsor Palace during the time that the fleet was assembled at Spithead. As told to the author by the librarian at The Royal Archives, Windsor Castle, June 17,1997. 1 3 Diary entry cited in George Richard Corner, "The Panorama: with Memoirs of its Inventor, Robert Barker, and His Son, the late Henry Aston Barker," Art Journal, n.s., 3 (1857), p. 47. 1 4 Corner, "The Panorama," p. 47. 1 5 Richard D. Altick, The Shows of London (Cambridge, Mass., and London: Harvard University Press, 1978), p. 134; Silvia Bordini, Storia del Panorama: La visione totale nella pittura del XIX secolo (Rome: Officina Edizioni, 1984), p. 15; and Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 105. 116 1 6 Peter de Bolla, "The Visibility of Visuality: Vauxhall Gardens and the Siting of the Viewer," in Vision and Textuality, eds. Stephen Melville and Bill Readings (London and Houndmills: MacMillan, 1995), p. 284. 1 7 De Bolla, "Visibility," p. 284. 1 8 Oettermann, The Panorama, pp. 13, 105, 186, and in the German edition, Das Panorama Die Geschichte eines Massenmediums (Syndikat: Frankfurt am Main, 1980), p. 82. 1 9 See for examples: Richard D. Altick, The Shows of London (Cambridge, Mass., and London: Harvard University Press, 1978), p. 134; Silvia Bordini, Storia del Panorama: La visione totale nella pittura del XIX secolo (Rome: Officina Edizioni, 1984), p. 15; and Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 105. 2 0 See Altick, Shows of London, p. 189; From Pliny's Natural History, XXXV, p. 65, cited in Norman Bryson, Looking at the Overlooked: Four Essays on Still Life Painting (Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1990), p. 30. 2 1 Lorraine Daston, "The Naturalized Female Intellect," Science in Context 5:2 (1992), p. 220. 2 2 Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 220. 2 3 Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 216. 2 4 In spite of their views on the value of the female intellect, people on both sides of the debate were in agreement that such a thing did exist. Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 217. 2 5 Bryson, Looking, pp. 30-31. 2 6 Bryson, Looking, p. 31. 2 7 Bryson, Looking, p. 31. ^Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 212. 2 9 2 9 George J. Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility: Sex and Society in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. xvii, 16, 28 and passim. 3 0 Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 19; see also Anon. "Fashionable Malady at Paris," Lady's Monthly Museum 6 (April 1801), pp. 294-95. 3 1 Ludmilla Jordanova, "Naturalizing the Family: Literature and the Bio-Medical Sciences in the Late Eighteenth Century," in Languages of Nature: Critical Essays on Science and Literature, ed. Ludmilla Jordanova (London: Free Association Books, 1986), p. 98; Fanny Burney, Evelina, or, The History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World (New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 1965), p. 66. 3 2 Michael Roper and John Tosh, "Historians and the Politics of Masculinity," Roper and Tosh, eds, Manful Assertions: Masculinities in Britain since 1800 (London: Routledge, 1991), p. 18. 3 3 Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility, p. 376. 3 4 For example, the physician George Cheyne and the philosopher David Hume confessed to having the weak constitutions that were associated with delicate nerves. See Barker-Benfield, Culture of Sensibility, p. 7; Daston points out that Pierre Le Moyne in La Gallerie des femmes fortes of 1660, and Pierre Roussel in System physique et moral de la femme, of 1809, claimed that male scholars, like women, were of weak disposition, p. 219. 3 5 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 12. 3 6 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 12. 117 3 7 Oettermann, The Panorama, pp. 13, 105, 186, and in the German edition, Das Panorama Die Geschichte eines Massenmediums (Syndikat: Frankfurt am Main, 1980), p. 82. 3 8 De Bolla, "Visibility," p. 283. 3 9 Sybil Rosenfeld, Georgian Scene Painters and Scene Painting, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981) p. 49. 4 0 Rosenfeld, p. 50. 41Ephraim Hardcastle [W. H. Pyne], Wine and Walnuts; or, After Dinner Chit-chat (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, 1823), p. 284. 4 2 Rosenfeld, p. 86. 4 3 Fanny Burney, Cecelia, or Memoirs of an Heiress, eds. Peter Sabor and Margaret Anne Doody, (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), pp. 135 and 972. 44Morning Chronicle (London), 23 February 1793, p.l. 4 5 A polemoscope can be seen in the display of King George the Ill's collection of scientific instruments at the Science Museum in London. 4 6 Elizabeth Bennett Kubek, "Women's participation in the urban culture of early modern London. Images from Fiction," in The Consumption of Culture 1600-1800: Image, Object, Text, eds. Ann Bermingham and John Brewer (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), p. 450. 4 7 Joshua Collins (pseud.), A Practical Guide to Parents and Guardians, in the right choice and use of books in every branch of education, 2nd. ed. (London, Thomas Reynolds, 1802), p. 29, cited in Peter de Bolla, The Discourse of the Sublime: Readings in History, Aesthetics and the Subject (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989), p. 274. 4 8 Kubek, p. 452. 4 9 Hannah More, Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education, With a View of the Principles and Conduct Prevalent Among Women of Rank and Fortune, vol. I, 6th ed. (London: T. Cadell Jr. and W. Davies, 1799), p. 143. 5 0 Hannah More, Essays on Various Subjects, Principally Designed for Young Ladies, (London: T. Cadell, 1785), p. 5. 5 1 Jean-Christophe Agnew, Worlds Apart: The Market and the Theatre in Anglo-American Thought, 1550-1750 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), pp. 97-98. 5 2 Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 219. 5 3 Antoine Leonard Thomas, Essai sur le caractere, les moeurs et Tesprit des femmes dans les differens siecles (Paris: Moutard, 1772), pp. 112-13, cited in Daston, "Naturalized Female Intellect," p. 219. 5 4 Ewa Lajer-Burcharth, "David's Sabine Women: Body, Gender and Republican Culture under the Directory," Art History 14:3 (September 1991), p. 406-411. 5 5 Lajer-Burcharth, "David's Sabine Women," p. 406. 5 6 Lajer-Burcharth, "David's Sabine Women," p. 411. 5 7 Lajer-Burcharth, "David's Sabine Women," p. 409. 6 8 Michel Foucault, "Of Other Spaces," trans. Jay Miskowiec, Diacritics 16:1 (Spring 1986), p. 24. 5 9 Foucault, p. 27. 6 0 The text on figure 3 reads that the King was expected to review the fleet on July 25,1791, but there is no record that he did so. 118 6 1 Martin Kemp, The Science of Art: Optical Themes in Western Art From Brunelleschi to Seurat (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1990), p. 214. 6 2 De Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, p. 194. 6 3 De Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, p. 194. 6 4 Because at this time there was not a light source powerful enough to project the image onto the canvas, the artist moved back and forth from the platform to the canvas to paint the panorama. See Oettermann, p. 54; Roger Chartier, On the Edge of the Cliff (London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), p.91. 6 5 John Joshua Kirby, Dr. Brook Taylor's Method of Perspective made easy both in theory and practice, (Ipswich: Printed by W. Craighton for the author, 1754), p. 62, cited in de Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, pp. 196-97. 6 6 Kirby, Dr. Brook Taylor's Method of Perspective made easy (1754), p. 62, cited in de Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, p. 196. 6 7 J. Steven Watson, The Reign of George III, 1760-1815 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960), p. 314. 6 8 Kirby, Dr. Brook Taylor's Method of Perspective made easy (1754), p. 62, cited in de Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, p. 197. 6 9 De Bolla, Discourse of the Sublime, p. 209. 7 0 Oettermann writes that he experienced this feeling himself when he visited the 1814 Panorama in Thun, Switzerland, p. 59. 7 1 Oettermann, p. 198; See also Bryson, Vision and Painting: The Logic of the Gaze (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), p. 121. 7 2 Bryson, Vision, p. 121. 7 3 This debate is best exemplified in the writings of David Hume and Immanuel Kant. See for example David Hume, "Of Personal Identity," in A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. Ernest C. Mossner (London: Penguin Books, 1969), pp. 299-310, and Immanuel Kant, "Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in Weltburgerlichen Absicht," in Schriften zur Antropologies, Geschichtsphilosophies, Politik und Pddagogik, 1, Werkausgabe 11. Franfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1977, cited in Liven de Cauter, "The Panoramic Ecstasy," Theory, Culture & Society, 10 (1993), p. 23. 7 4 Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer: on vision and modernity in the nineteenth century (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1992), p. 72. 7 5 de Bolla, "Visuality," p. 285. 7 6 Pierre Maine de Biran, Considerations sur les principes d'une division des faits psychologiques et physiologiques, (1810), in Oeuvres des Maine de Biran, vol. 13, ed. P. Tisserand (Paris, 1949), p. 180, cited by Regis Michel in "The Adventures of the Cogito: Gericault and the Madman," Conference paper (11 October 1997) Theodore Gericault, University of British Columbia, Vancouver. 7 7 Foucault, "Of Other Spaces," p. 27. 119 Chapter 4 Opposing Views of Constantinople In the years following the opening of the Panorama in Leicester Square, Robert Barker's invention maintained its popularity and the number of customers drawn to the Barkers' annually changing views of British cities, towns and naval victories remained steady.1 Indeed, in 1799 one visitor to the panorama vista, Nelson's Victory, The Battle of the Nile complained that because of the crowd of people milling around on the platform he could not see the painting as a whole, and thus could not experience the panoramic vista's full visual effect.2 However, with the exclusive patent on the panorama due to expire in 1801, and faced with growing competition from attractions that sought to mimic the panoramic experience, 3 the continued need for new and compelling subject matter was an important one. These factors played a role in Henry Aston Barker's travel to Constantinople to produce the image of this key city in the Ottoman Empire which would open at the Leicester Square Panorama on April 21, 1801 (fig. I).4 European guidebooks frequently described Constantinople as one of the most beautiful cities in the world. 5 Yet, in representing Constantinople as the first view of a city located outside of Britain, the Barkers' were also capitalizing on the growth of British interest in the Middle East that had been most recently generated by Napoleon's invasion of Egypt in 1798, and Britain's alliance with the Ottoman Empire that sought to block France's control in North Africa and the Mediterranean. 120 From the fourteenth until the sixteenth century, the Ottomans had the most powerful army in the world, and by the beginning of the sixteenth century all of North Africa had fallen to the Ottoman-Turks. While the Ottoman Empire remained largely intact into the eighteenth century, by 1774 it had lost significant territory to Russia. 6 The exhibition of the view of Constantinople was the second time that the Panorama would mark Britain's political and military support of the Ottoman Empire. 7 As discussed in Chapter Two, Barker chose the "Russian Armament," also known as the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead, as the first subject shown in the Panorama at Leicester Square in 1793. The view of the British fleet had depicted war ships that had been assembled in 1791 to coerce Russia into a peaceful settlement with the Ottomans over territory giving Russia access to the Black Sea.8 By the end of the decade, with France's occupation of Egypt in 1798, the interests of the British and Ottomans coincided again. The combined forces of the two empires compelled the French to evacuate Egypt in 1801,9 the same year that the panorama vista of Constantinople opened in London. The Barkers' introduction of this new subject matter to the Panorama on Apri l 21, 1801 was followed six months later by a major formal innovation: the simultaneous exhibition in the Panorama's two circles of observation of two different views of Constantinople. Ever since Barker's inaugural exhibition for the Panorama Rotunda of the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead in 1793, two panorama vistas had always been shown at the same time in the Rotunda, except for short periods during installation (see Appendix A). Such changes in the 121 imagery in the Panorama complicated modes of engagement with the paintings, and allowed new possibilities for the viewing process. The first panorama of Constantinople depicted a view of the city from the Tower of Galata, located in Constantinople's European suburb of Galata, which like Constantinople itself was located on the European side of the Bosphorus (fig. 1). This "view from the European side," as it was described in Barker's advertisement, 1 0 and which his reference book for the exhibition likened to "the prospect from the Albion Mil l in London," 1 1 was displayed for over a year at the Panorama Rotunda from Apri l 21, 1801, to May 15, 1802. in the large, lower circle of observation.1 2 The second painting, called the "view from the Asiatic side," 1 3 was taken from the Tower of Leander (also known as Maiden Tower), situated on a rock on the Asian side of the Bosphorus—the 29 kilometre strait between Europe and Asia that linked the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea (fig. 2). The positions of each of these towers are identified on a nineteenth century map of the area (fig. 3). The "Asiatic" view was shown in the small, upper circle of the panorama from November 23, 1801 to May 14, 1803, for a period of a year and a half. The key to the second panorama of Constantinople—the "view from the Asiatic side"—underscored that the Barkers' two representations of the city were interrelated and dependant on each other: "the upper painting represents Constantinople in a different point of view from the Lower painting, and both are intended as explanatory of each other, [my emphasis] hereby affording the public an opportunity of fully comprehending the magnificence and beauty of this ancient and superb city, and its vicinity" (see fig. 2). 122 Indeed, with the exhibition of the first view of Constantinople taken from the European suburb of Galata, a geographical polarity was established between domestic and foreign sites, that is, between London as the place of exhibition, and Constantinople, which Barker described in the reference book that accompanied the exhibition as a city "situated at the eastern extremity of Europe." 1 4 However, this spatial binary was disrupted and complicated further when the second view of Constantinople from the "Asiatic" side of the Bosphorus was opened in the smaller, upper circle. 1 5 Viewed together, the relationship between the spaces that the observer was expected to engage with became overtly triangulated, shifting back and forth between the London exhibition site in Britain, and between Constantinople viewed from both Europe and from Asia respectively. As I argue in this chapter, Britain's relations of power with respect to Turkey were realigned by such imagery that made it more difficult to categorize Constantinople and its people. Traditional stereotypes of the East that articulated a difference based on fear and desire in relation to Islam were destabilized by the new technical possibilities for representation opened up by the Panorama. I will also explore how spectators were encouraged to engage with the space of the Panorama's two circles of observation, and the two opposing panorama vistas of Constantinople that they contained, in ways not possible with Barker's earlier city or battle views. Although the two panorama paintings of Constantinople no longer exist, many forms of written and printed material relate to them. H. A. Barker kept a record of his trip in two small, leather-bound diaries. 1 6 While these diary entries adopt the first person commentary typical of the 123 travel narrative form at this time, 1 7 they doubled as research notes for the text that was ultimately included in the sixteen-page reference book sold at the exhibition of the Constantinople views. This reference book included a map (fig. 4), and an index which corresponded to that of the keys for the panoramas, but which provided more extensive information concerning each numbered landmark. These printed materials functioned as supporting literature for viewers who stood surrounded by the panoramas, while also serving as souvenirs of their visit. The advertisements published in the London papers are another source of information about each view. Finally, eight aquatints of the first view, produced in 1813 in both hand-coloured and black and white versions, and based on H.A. Barker's drawings are extant (figs. 5-12). From these visual and textual sources, it is possible to reconstruct a picture of what the panoramas looked like when the view of Constantinople from the Tower of Galata in the European suburb filled the circumference of the large, lower circle with 10,000 square feet of canvas, and the view from the "Asiatic" side of the Bosphorus encircled the smaller, upper circle with 2700 square feet of canvas. 1 8 In H.A. Barker's aquatints representing first of the exhibited views—that from the military Tower of Galata—the city of Constantinople is seen at a distance (figs. 5-12). The Tower of Galata was a huge lookout tower, girded by stone defence walls, built on a hil l as for military defence by the Genoese in the fourteenth century (fig. 13). Most of the view is taken up by the rooftops of the buildings in the suburbs of Galata and Pera. Ever since the occupation of the city by the Ottomans in 1453, when 124 Constantinople was renamed Istanbul, Galata and Pera had been inhabited by European embassies and by wealthy foreigners.1 9 The cosmopolitanism of the city and particularly these suburbs where both European and Islamic cultures were located and intermingled is highlighted in Barker's representation by the Turkish and European clothing of the figures in the image, and through the variety of architectural styles and buildings in the suburb. English Tudor and Frankish houses, Genoese walls and turrets surrounding Galata, are all visible at close range as are a Turkish bathhouse heated by mound-like earthen ovens with holes to allow the smoke to escape, and a mosque with minarets. Also rendered from the vantagepoint of the military tower are Galata and Pera's green and open spaces including the Turkish cemetery filled with cypress trees. The immediate foreground of the panorama depicts a group of turbaned men labouring in the narrow strip of land, which the panorama key for this view calls "Rope Walk." The workers are pictured fabricating the ropes for the navy and cargo ships that passed in and out of Constantinople's harbour, the Golden Horn. Also visible is a Mussin in one of the nearby minarets calling the faithful to prayer. 2 0 The harbour for Constantiople, filled with trading vessels and battle ships occupies a prominent place in the city vista. On the key to the panorama of this view of Constantinople (but not represented in the aquatints which were executed twelve years later), Lord Elgin's "embassy" is identified entering the city by water. The panorama key designates his Phaeton frigate, and the puffs of smoke shown on the image of the key 125 suggest that the Sultan is being saluted with a blast of a cannon as the "embassy" passes the palace at the entrance to the city. Several prominent features are singled out on the key in the distance: these include the Grand Signior's (or Sultan's) Divan, a series of mosques, European embassies, as well as the ship of the "Captain Pasha's," (the Turkish High Admiral's). Rendered more schematically are the roof tops that take the form of two or three lines placed at right angles to each other, and which contrast with the landmarks and sites depicted in detail. On the key in the direction of the Tower of Leander, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus the Town of Scutari is also given a rough outline only. No aquatints were executed after the "Asiatic" view taken from the Tower of Leander (or Maiden Tower) on the Asian side of the Bosphorus. The panorama survives only through the diagram and index on the key (fig. 2). The Tower of Leander (or Maiden Tower) from where the view was taken was much smaller than the Tower of Galata and rested on less stable foundations. The tower was named by the Europeans after Ovid's account of the lovers Hero and Leander, who met there from the Eastern and Western sides of the Bosphorus. The designation Maiden Tower was Turkish in origin and referred to a story about a Greek princess who was once imprisoned and left to die there. 2 1 Emphasized on the top of the key to the view of Constantinople from the "Asiatic" side, is Seraglio point, the peninsula upon which the Sultan's palace stood. The Seraglio was infamous in Britain for its harem, where hundreds of the Sultan's wives were kept in seclusion and guarded by 126 black and white eunuchs. 2 2 The harems of the Ottomans occupied a prominent place in the Western imaginary—associated as they were with unbridled sexuality. 2 3 In the foreground of this vista the key designates one of Sultan Selim Ill's (1789-1807) ceremonial processions by water. The "Grand Seignior," as the Sultan was termed on the key, is depicted under a canopy at the centre of the assembly of barges with a retinue of over sixty attendants. The key also explains that he is being rowed from the Seraglio to the Palace oiDolma Baktche, his summer residence on the Bosphorus. A division of the Turkish fleet and a Turkish 74 Gun ship, positioned on either side of the procession, are described as saluting the Seraglio and the Grand Signior respectively, giving even more importance to his presence on the sea. Although the city and the principal members of the Turkish court are represented only schematically in the drawing on the key, Barker noted in his advertisement for this panorama that the painting afforded a view of their distinctive forms of dress.2 4 Apart from the Sultan's procession, the places singled out for notice in the index to this key are all mosques, with the exception of the Tower of Galata, "where the view in the Lower Circle is taken from." The Town of Scutari is shown in more detail in this key. The exhibition of these two representations of Constantinople in the Panorama's upper and lower circles of observation brought together three major issues: imperialist politics, orientalist strategies, and perspectival representation in relation to the viewing subject. First, as has been noted earlier, in their decision to paint two views of Constantinople, the Barkers capitalized on the public's fascination with the city spurred on by the new 127 political, commercial and military alliance formed between Britain and the Ottoman Empire in 1798, when Britain joined forces with the Turks after Napoleon's invasion of Egypt. 2 5 Britain's alliance with Turkey was part of a quid pro quo. Britain helped the Ottomans expel Napoleon from Egypt in order to prevent the French from hindering their travel routes to their colonies in India, and to allow them to profit from France's severed relations with the Ottomans. Second, given that the British were involved in a struggle with the French over the colonial domination of foreign lands, the two very different views of this city intervened within prevalent orientalist and imperialist discourses. For nearly 1500 years, from A D 330, the year Constantine founded the Eastern Roman Empire, to 1801, when H. A. Barker's first view of Constantinople appeared at the Panorama, Istanbul had been the capital city of two great civilizations, the Byzantine Empire and the Ottoman Empire. The city was the "New Rome" of Eastern Orthodox Christianity, until 1453, when it was overtaken by Mahomet II with his army of 300,000, and transformed into the "sacred city of Islam."2 6 Both Istanbul's history associated with the conquests of Christianity and Islam, and its strategic location at the entrance to the Black Sea and the eastern trade routes, made the city itself a site of tension between the values and traditions of different cultures. In H.A. Barker's two views, the capital was represented as a stage for the confrontation and coexistence of the British (whose embassy by water and palace was pictured in the view from the Tower of Galata in the European suburb), and of the Ottomans (the 128 Sultan's procession and palace were pictured in the view from the Asiatic side of the Bosphorous). Third, as with the earlier panoramas, the two views responded to contemporary phenomenalist interests, and depended on Barker's innovative use of perspective for their illusionism. 2 7 The new subject matter of the two views operated together with the encircling form of the panorama vistas, to heighten their visual effect. As I will be arguing in this chapter the observer's belief in the 'regime of truth' of the two images, as representations of a foreign city, was ratcheted up to another level by the formal innovation that allowed each of the views to "cite" the other view as evidence. That is, each painting allows the viewer to look across at the tower on the other side of the Bosphorus which provided the viewing position that she or he was supposed to have occupied only moments before, when located at the centre of the other panorama painting in the Rotunda. As I will be elaborating in the last section of this chapter, both of the Constantinople paintings encouraged the viewer to use the image of the opposing tower as a kind of 'proof that what could be seen in each panorama did indeed refer to another 'reality' outside of itself. In this way, H.A. Barker's views of the Islamic city of Constantinople trapped London audiences more securely than ever before within the perspectival illusion that the Panorama offered up. Indeed, as the views laid the city on the boundaries of Europe and Asia before Britons as a beautiful and consumable sight, their perspectival regimes and illusionistic strategies underscored both modern and Enlightenment faith in a "vision-centered interpretation of knowledge, truth, and reality." 2 8 129 It is important to register that Barker's panorama views were a type of pictorial depiction that was foreign to Islamic tradition which discouraged the representation of living creatures for fear that such representation would lead to pagan or polytheistic worship. 2 9 H.A. Barker was required to obtain, through diplomatic channels, permission from the Sultan to represent Constantinople. 3 0 His images of the city, using a perspectival regime that was foreign to local artisans, enabled the production of a range of knowledges that gave form to Western cultural and symbolic power. In what follows, I treat two historical contexts and locations of investigation. The first section examines Barker's actions and experiences in Constantinople, during the preparation of his drawings. The second section investigates the audience's engagement with the Panorama's first paintings of a foreign city in London. Here I explore the way that the juxtaposition of the two vistas of Constantinople could change both the way that the paintings positioned spectators within their images and the processes through which the panorama could take on meanings. Travelling to Draw: Strategies and Tactics Henry Aston Barker's two diaries record his trip to Constantinople from 1799 to 1800. His observations follow the popular tradition of travel narratives, a literary genre that harks back to the recorded voyages of pilgrims, heroes and merchants. 3 1 They also allow us to consider H. A. Barker as an artistic "subject" operating within the freedoms and 130 restraints of a historically and culturally specific category of the individual. Barker begins his journal with profound feelings of trepidation: To a man who has never almost quitted home & when he did perhaps never went more than a few days journey, the Idea of going abroad for a lengthy time, with the uncertainties that attend it, generally fills the mind with melancholy reflections. Under such circumstances with feelings too risen to be always happy, I left on the 26th August 1799 for Portsmouth where I was to go on board the Young James for Constantinople. 3 2 While Barker's departure was delayed for several days awaiting sufficient wind to set sail, he watched the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Lord Elgin, depart in his much lighter and more streamlined Phaeton frigate for his Embassy in Constantinople. 3 3 It would be another four months before Barker presented himself at the palace there. Constantinople was often visited by young men of rank as the final destination on the Grand Tour through Europe, a rite of passage deemed by many aristocrats throughout the eighteenth century as an essential part of a gentleman's education. 3 4 As a twenty-three year old artist trained by both his father and at the Royal Academy School in London, Barker's journey merged business with artistic ambition. Unlike gentlemen of independent means, he was tied to the panorama's exhibition schedule, which was drawn up well in advance. Barker's diary records his impressions of the city as well as his attempts to make connections with elite members of English and Turkish society who were in a position to assist him in his plan to draw what many eighteenth century British travel writers claimed was the most spectacular city in the world. 3 5 The genre of the travel narrative has been described as "an act of mastery over space," and in this sense it can be 131 viewed the textual counterpart of the panoramic image. 3 6 And like the travel narrative, Barker's text is implicated in political, orientalist, and representational discourses. The diary also reveals Barker's attempts at self-mastery. In order to produce his drawings of the view of Constantinople, Barker needed to persuade Lord Elgin, the British Ambassador stationed in Constantinople, and other diplomats, to help him obtain permission from the Ghezzar Pasha, the Chief Commander of the Turkish army, to draw the city. 3 7 To this end, Barker strategically marshalled his good manners, formal apparel, Royal Academy education, and experience as a professional artist who worked for his father, the renowned proprietor of the difficult to categorize Panorama enterprise at the centre of London. H. A. Barker's diary emphasises the enormous personal risk he took in going to Constantinople. The urgency of obtaining a view of Constantinople to meet the Panorama's exhibition schedule was such that Barker risked the dangers of travelling during wartime to make the drawings for a dramatic view of the city that few people in London would have visited themselves. During one particularly hazardous storm, the ship lost its convoy, and there were fears of interception by the French fleet.3 8 Brought to shore at Palermo to repair the damage from the storm, Barker took advantage of the unexpected opportunity to visit Sir William Hamilton, the English Ambassador to the court of Naples, whom he felt would be of assistance to him on a future trip to Italy.39 Although Sir Hamilton was absent when he called, he was welcomed by Lady Hamilton who offered him the opportunity to meet Lord Nelson: 132 A thought stuck me that as Sr. Wm. Hamilton was here I had better introduce myself to him & mention my business as he might be of Service in Italy — I called in the Morn.g [Dec] 7th I saw Lady H. [Hamilton] who I found beautiful but rather fat to be elegant, if I was pleased with her appearance how much more so by her affability! As Sr Wm [Sir William Hamilton the Ambassador] was then out she requested I would drink tea there that Even.g & she would introduce me to him — I felt another pleasure here, one that every English.m would feel, that of seeing Lord Nelson who resides with Sr. Wm. — after leaving them, with a Mind highly pleased, I went with Mr. Timmins to take a tour thro1 Palermo. 4 0 In his memoirs Barker commented further that when they met, Lord Nelson, "took me by the hand, saying he was indebted to me for keeping up the fame of his victory in the battle of the Nile for a year longer than it would have lasted in the public estimation." 4 1 In fact at the time of their meeting in Palermo, Robert and H. A. Barker's Nelson's Victory, The Battle of the Nile, was still on exhibition in London, and had been on display in the large circle at Leicester Square since May 20, 1799.4 2 The young artist and businessman's status among the elite group around the Ambassador in Palermo was enhanced by the fact that his painting had played a part in the securing of Nelson's reputation as a national hero. At a "conversazione" at the Hamilton's the next evening, where a great number of the Nobility of Naples were present, Barker's diary reports that he met Sir Hamilton and explained the purpose of his trip to Constantinople. The diary entry is telling, as it indicates that Barker's social sphere was continually widening. L.H. [Lady Hamilton] introduced me to Sr. Wm. [Sir Will iam Hamilton] who I found very affable & kind assuring me that I should have every assistance in his power — I was introduced also to Miss Knight the Daughter of Adm.l Knight — a Lady who draws extremely well & being intimately acquainted with A. Kaufman [Angelica Kauffman] is to write to her that I may have every possible attention paid me at Rome. - Sunday 8th. Rained all Day which kept 133 me on board till Night when I again waited on Sr. Wm. to receive some letters.43...I had forgot that I saw Ld N's Secretary Mr. Tyson who knows my Father very well he was on board the Hanibal in the Fleet at Spithead — the Bull-Dog Made the Signal for Sail'g shortly after when I took my leave, not without regret, I had been so kindly treated, L.N, L.H. & Sr. Wm. shook hands with me & wished me every happiness. 4 4 As Barker indicates: Lady Hamilton introduced him to Sir Will iam Hamilton, who introduced him to Miss Knight, the daughter of a British Admiral, who, as an acquaintance of Angelica Kauffman (the well known artist and member of the Royal Academy in Britain), was willing to write Barker a letter of introduction to Kauffman. In passing, Barker remarks that Mr. Tyson, Lord Nelson's secretary, was well acquainted with his father. In Barker's mind at least, his hopes for securing the support of Sir William were more than satisfied. While it is possible that the letters that Barker waited for from Sir William may have included some personal correspondence that the Ambassador wanted to be delivered, it is very likely that they were letters introducing H. A. Barker to the Ambassador's connections in Constantinople, including Lord Elgin, the Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. Barker noted in his diary that his ship arrived in Constantinople on January 4, 1800, at 10 am. The next day, armed with several letters, Barker went to introduce himself to Lord Elgin at the French Palace — taken over by the British since diplomatic relations with France broke off with Napoleon's invasion of Egypt—but the ambassador took no notice of him. However, when Barker returned the following day with "some papers" to help him to explain his purpose, to his delight "His Lordship asked a good deal concerning my business and was very friendly. He begged me to dine 134 with him on Wednesday." 4 5 From that moment on, Barker became a member of the social circle of British merchants, military officers, and aristocrats and artists that met regularly at Lord Elgin's residences. Although Lord Elgin was Britain's ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, the trading enterprise the Levant Company paid his salary as his position involved the negotiation of commercial treaties on behalf of British interests. 4 6 A military man of cultivated tastes, Elgin had hired several artists in London to visit him in Constantinople so that they could draw Greek antiquities. 4 7 Barker himself was asked to repair some 'fine' drawings of ancient Greek sculptures by an artist named Tweddel who had died in a shipwreck on his way back from Athens. 4 8 Barker investigated different sites from which to take his view of Constantinople, that had been suggested to him by his new acquaintances, and on January 13th he made a note concerning the viewpoint that he would select for his panorama: "Being rather fine - went to the Tower of Galata built by the Genoese from whence I found the View very extensive and, as it seemed the only place from which I could conveniently draw, I fixed it as my station." 4 9 His next step was to secure access and permission to take the view from the tower. The process was arduous and fraught with difficulties. Barker went to the German Palace to see one Spencer Smith Esq., presumably a contact made through Lord Elgin, to ask if he could gain him admission to the Tower. Barker records that Smith assured him that he would assist him. 5 0 A couple of days later, according to the diary, Smith told Barker that he had settled everything and that he could go to the Tower whenever he pleased. Nevertheless, a Mr. Abbot, a family friend 135 who was resident there, advised Barker that he should have an order from the Captain Pasha, the Turkish High Admiral, to make everything more secure. Despite fears that this would cause another delay, Barker returned to Mr. Smith to ask him if could obtain an official Order, the latter was adamant that there was nothing amiss, and claimed that he had done "all in his power." 5 1 Yet, on admittance to the Tower through Mr. Smith, the tower guard registered the seriousness of the trespass: But the man who had the care of it, when he saw me looking out of the windows and using the rule, he began to quake for his head, so he begged me to go away and said that I must have an Order from the Porte. Here was another delay. The next morning the 21st. Went to Mr. Pisani [the Neapolitan Minister] to see what could be done.5 2 Both the advice from his friend Abbot and the Tower guard's fearfulness register the control over the spaces of the city exercised by the Sultan. But the incidents also suggest that the act of representing either living things, or nature with perspectival illusionism was fraught with risks in this Muslim country, a point that would be impressed upon Barker again at a later date. In the meantime, through the efforts of the Neapolitan Minister, Mr. Pisani, Barker received an Order from the Porte to be admitted to the Tower and immediately began to draw the view. 5 3 That evening Barker wrote home of his achievement. His representation of the city from the Tower of Galata was completed on Apri l 29, 1800.54 He returned several more times thereafter to draw an outline for the descriptive key to the view, and to write down the colours of the scene for future reference. 5 5 On a later outing to sail the Bosphorous on a friend's pleasure boat taken in May, Barker recorded that he was impressed by the scenery 136 presented from a view taken from a very different direction: The Tower of Leander on the Asian side of the Bosphorous. He later wrote in his diary that, "The site of the Romily-hissar (European Castles) is strikingly grand and romantic. Also went to the Tower of Leander and found the view extremely fine." 5 6 His experience of the view from the Tower of Leander apparently gave him the idea of making a second view of the city. After Barker approached Lord Elgin for the second time to procure permission for the Porte to allow him to draw from the Tower of Leander, we again find that it was the Neapolitan Minister, Pisani who undertook all the necessary arrangements. On June 11th Barker began working on the second view of Constantinople from what he described as "Kiss Coolia—the Maiden Tower." 5 7 In the five months following the permission Barker obtained from the Sultan to draw his first view of Constantinople, his diary recorded that he went to draw the view of the city from the Tower of Galata whenever the weather conditions were right; that is when the sky was clear so that he could see a great distance, there was no snow covering the rooftops of the buildings, and the air temperature was not too cold to draw. High up in the tower, out of the street's grasp, Barker used the rules of perspective to fashion a panoramic view. The eight aquatint prints made after Barker's drawings from this vista from the European suburb are constructed by a multi-perspective technique. The image area of the eight prints measures 19 3/4 x 20 inches (50.2 x 50.8 cm). When attached end to end, the set of prints forms a continuous image over thirteen feet in width. 5 8 Since the prints were based on H. A. Barker's drawings, he presumably made eight 137 drawings of the view. This number deviates from the first two print series he published of the view of Edinburgh (1789-90) and that of London (1792-93), both of which include six prints, and when placed side by side measure approximately eleven feet.59 However, by raising the number of prints used to represent the view from six to eight, the amount of detail the artist was able to include increased significantly which in turn enhanced the image's illusion of accuracy and completeness. This increase in the size of the printed image and the amount of detail it recorded can be linked to what Marshall Hodgson in The Venture of Islam has described as the 'technicalization' of Western society, a process involving the establishment of 'rationality' wherein innovation and progress are seen as natural and normative accompaniments in human societal development. 6 0 The panorama view provided spectators with an elevated and central position from which to contemplate an image of an Islamic city whose space encircled and included them. The painting's circular form supported claims for objectivity, because it gave the appearance of displaying a total, unselective view in which nothing had been left out. In "Walking in the City," Michel de Certeau addresses the scopic drive which he argues has led artists throughout the ages to adopt a bird's eye view in order to transform the city into a readable text. Thus, the city by which one is 'possessed' [is transformed] into a text that lies before one's eyes. It allows one to read it, to be a solar Eye, looking down like a god. The exaltation of a scopic and gnostic drive: the fiction of knowledge is related to this lust to be a viewpoint and nothing more. 6 1 But it is worth considering what happens to the observer when they look down on the city "like a god." Distinguishing between voyeurs and walkers, 138 de Certeau asserts that the panorama-city is a picture whose condition of possibility negates spatial practices that is, practices (movements and actions) which assert the network of relationships that constituted the life of the city. These were the practices from which Barker appears to have extracted himself when he secured his position in the Tower of Galata. Yet, there is an important difference between a view from the sky and a view from a rooftop or tower. Neither the artist's nor the viewer's relationship to the viewpoint is as detached as that of an aerial view suggested in de Certeau's example and depicted in the bird's eye views of earlier prints of the city (figs. 14 & 15). The view from the Tower of Galata was guarded by a Janissary, and entangled by rules and regulations, in particular, property relations, which is why it was necessary for Barker to go through diplomatic channels to obtain permission to make his drawings. Nevertheless, as a representation of space tied to abstraction, geometry, and logic, the panorama vista can be regarded as an image which, as de Certeau has written, "...constructs the fiction that creates readers, makes the complexity of the city readable, and immobilizes its opaque mobility in an transparent text."6 2 Barker's view freezes the city and does not represent its multiple and mobile relations, its spatial practices. In contrast to the panoramic-city being drawn from the tower, from Barker's diary we learn of his exchanges with the city's ordinary practitioners on the street below. These accounts of his face to face encounters are numerous and varied, and while to a large extent they depended on his identity as a British artist on an assignment to take a view 139 of the city, they also disrupt his attempt to reduce the city into a totalized and transparent image. For example, one day when he had a cold and a violent pain in his side Barker decided not to work, instead taking a walk when he was struck by the different funerary practices of the mourning Greeks in the city. In a street I met a Greek funeral the mode is very curious, the Corpse is placed in a Bier railed all round...a vast troop of Greeks follow and precede the Corpse Singing a dirge—I suppose to a person unaccustomed with such a thing it is very disgusting to see the ghastly grin of the pale visage of death dressed so gayly, but the Men who carried the Body were laughing and playing themselves the whole way, so little did they think of it! 6 3 Another day, after attending a ball at Pisani's house Barker describes the performance of the Island dance by a group of Greek women: "They take hold of each others hands and to the Musick which I thought barbarous enough they keep time both with their feet and bodies."6 4 In a peaceful mood Barker muses, "Smoked a pipe, and drank coffee with a Turkish Gent'n. — passed through a number of bazaars, one in particular is very extensive where all kind of stuffs are sold also shoes. The effect of this place is very pleasing and singular." 6 5 On another day, Barker's describes an encounter in the city streets using a disparaging tone: Went to see a man who was hanged in the Morning. The Turks hang men without any Gallows and frequently in the streets. This person was hung on a tree within about a foot of the ground his face uncovered and nothing on his body but a pair of Trousers and a waistcoat—the arms and feet bare. This is one among the many instances of Turkish barbarity. They let the Man hang 3 days. 6 6 In a diary punctuated with strong judgments about the city and its people, both complementary and critical, a moment is recorded in which his own presence as a foreigner provokes anger: "Took a walk to Bistick 140 Dasl (the Cradel Stone) a very clean village on the Bosphorus — a palace of a Sultana in it. Attacked by a few boys with stones. But standing and returning the fire we soon dispersed the Enemy." 6 7 This brief incident suggests that not everyone was pleased at the presence of British gentlemen touring the area, and that possibly the Ottoman state's policy of ushering in a New Order to cater to European expectations was not supported by all. Another significant moment of conflict during his visit raised the issue of the sacrilege involved in Barker's attempt to represent the Islamic mosques in Constantinople: July 8th. Went with a Janissary to the Hippodrome to take the View, while I was drawing some old Women seeing me draw the Minarets of Sultan Achement were very angry and stopped me from work. One of them cryed bitterly at seeing a Christian committing such an act of Sacrilege — I found it would not do to stop any longer so with an imperfect View I returned. 6 8 Clearly the act of sacrilege was seen as one directed against Islamic beliefs. This trace of the voice of the Muslim women who challenged the artist and businessman's right to draw the city's mosques is conspicuous in the diary as an act of resistance to his project of representing the city. 6 9 On the Two Views of Constantinople in London A n advertisement in the Morning Chronicle announced the opening of the first view of Constantinople in the Panorama's large circle of observation in Apri l 1801.70 In 1802 reports arrived in London that a powerful earthquake had destroyed much of the city. 7 1 The news moved Robert Barker to place another advertisement in the London papers in 141 which he tells his readers that his painting affords the opportunity of seeing the city "as if on the spot, those parts of this superb city, and of Galata, which have been injured by the late earthquake." 7 2 Although it later became known that early communications on the earthquake had greatly overstated the damage, Barker's response suggests that much like the case of the View of London from the Albion Mill in which the Mi l l had been destroyed by fire before the panorama was exhibited, there was an opportunity to profit from an event which had transformed his painting of Constantinople into a representation of something that no longer existed. Panorama customers who paid the one shilling admission to see each view were offered descriptive sheets, or keys, to guide them through the images. For the first time, they could also purchase a reference book with a map that the Barkers had published to explain the paintings. 7 3 The reference book provided a short history of the city, and a description of some of the sites in each image. The keys to each view offer precise instructions on their use. The first key, printed for the view from the Tower of Galata advises that, "The preservation of this sheet is recommended as it, with the Map and the Reference Book, will at all times keep in recollection this view of Constantinople." As has been noted at the outset of this chapter, when the second view was introduced in the upper circle of the Panorama in November of 1801 it transformed the way that the city could be understood by dividing it into two parts. The key to the view of Constantinople from the "Asiatic" side explains that the two paintings "represent" Constantinople from two different points of view. The two views demanded that viewers expend 142 more effort to understand how they related to each other. This would have increased their involvement with the images, which were no longer simply looked at for their own sake, but actively compared and contrasted in terms of viewpoint, content, composition and material form. Precisely how these two keys and the reference book worked together to explain the views is the main issue to be examined in this section. The keys and the reference book with its map were guides to the paintings, giving an order to their compositions. The information formed through the reference book was drawn from a variety of sources: H.A. Barker's travel account of his experiences while visiting the city; and a range of well known publications on the Ottoman Empire. These included the seventeenth century publication The Turkish History, by Richard Knolle's, and the eighteenth century Memoirs of Baron de Tott, that are cited in the pamphlet, as well as information found in a recent history of the Ottomans written by Samuel Baker. 7 4 The map appears to have been hand-drawn by H.A. Barker, perhaps using a Muslim map of the area as reference. 7 5 These printed materials—more than the Barkers had ever before published for their panorama paintings—attempted to organize viewers' experience of the two paintings within the Rotunda; they could also be saved and consulted at home, functioning as souvenirs and memory aids of the visual experience. H.A. Barker's description of the view from the European suburb in the reference book lists the wide variety of places of interest exhibited in the scene, the Seraglio, mosques, minarets and a variety of landscape features: 143 There are Two Views, which afford some of the finest scenery in the world. The one from the Tower of Galata, (a situation similar to what the Albion Mil l is to London,) exhibits the superb imperial City of Constantinople, with the Seraglio, magnificent Mosques, Minarahs, and Baths; the Cemeteries, or Burial-places of the Turks, and their entire mode of building, to an immense extent. The Harbour is close to the Tower of Galata, and the Arsenal with Men of War very near. Beyond Constantinople appears the Marmora, or White Sea; and beyond that the City of Scutari, and Asia Minor. At a distance far behind appears Mount Olympus, ever covered with snow, with various scenery of classical ground, which requires being seen to convey an adequate idea of the whole. 7 6 Indeed, H. A. Barker indicates in this passage that the representation of the city's varied and magnificent architectural structures and its war ships in the harbour, surrounded by a classical landscape, could only be comprehended in its entirety by sight—not by verbal description. What is suggested is that only the experience of seeing "the whole" view in the Panorama will represent, or stand in for, the real thing. In fact there is in this passage a subtle slippage between the reference to a represented image in which these objects are "exhibited" and the actual city in which the harbour "is" very near the tower of Galata, and Mount Olympus "appears" in the far distance. The text tries to lead the reader to believe that the representation, like the actual view of the city from the tower, "conveyfs] an adequate idea of the whole." While it may seem odd that the reference book that was meant to be used while inside the view states that the view "requires being seen", the writer likely assumed that the pamphlet would be taken home and read by others who had not yet visited the paintings. 144 The European view of Constantinople was shown for several months with the View of Ramsgate 7 7 in the upper circle until November, when it was replaced by the second view of Contantinople. 7 8 The Barkers' advertised that both views, "the one from the Asiatic side and the other from the European side," would be open to the public on Monday, November 23 r d, affording together a most correct and satisfactory occular description of Constantinople and its Vicinity, the Costume of the Turks, and a View of the Grand Seignior with his Attendants, his Barges, of State & c. as he is sailing up the Bosphorous to one of his Palaces. 7 9 While the first view from the European suburb focussed on built structures such as buildings and ships, the new Asian view—as the advertisement indicates—offered a view of Turkish dress and of the Sultan and his court as they sailed to the summer palace. Since there was a separate admission charged for each painting it was important for the proprietors to promote the views as complementary, to stress that the "most correct and satisfactory occular description" of the city could be obtained only by seeing them both. To increase the truth claims of the two images, a map of the area surrounding Constantinople was inserted into the binding of the reference book (fig. 4). Tied to the scientific practice of surveying and recording geographical space using directions and fixed scale of measurement, the map gave viewers another way of accessing the space represented in the views. It allowed the areas the paintings depicted as three dimensional illusions to be captured in two-dimensions on one picture plane. In other words, it conceptually united the two views and linked them to a specific 145 place in the world. Hence the disjunction the viewer felt in being in the Panorama at Leicester Square and transported by the image to Constantinople was complicated further by the fact that each painting of Constantinople drew the spectator's attention to the opposite view. Edward Said's Culture and Imperialism argues that France's invasion of Egypt set the terms of a new relationship, based on an oppressive deployment of power and knowledge, between the Orient and the West. 8 0 But, as many have argued, the terms of this relationship varied with respect to historical, political and geographical circumstances. Lisa Lowe's work in particular has emphasised the heterogeneity and inconsistencies present in discourses of orientalism. She historicizes orientalist formations, arguing that, "on the one hand, orientalism consists of an uneven matrix of orientalist situations across different cultural and historical sites, and on the other, that each of these orientalisms is internally complex and unstable." 8 1 Significantly, each newly articulated orientalist image alters the terms and conditions of the discourse. Lowe's points have significance for H.A. Barker's views of Constantinople. The Panorama's unequal pairing of the two views of the Ottoman city produced correspondences and contradictions that modified the discourse of otherness. In contrast to the first totalizing view of the city exhibited alongside the View of Ramsgate (and the second one which was shown with the Battle of Copenhagen), Barker's two images were unique for bringing together in one place two different orientalist representations of the same city. The introduction of the second image of Constantinople in 146 the Panorama altered the terms and the formal conditions on which both images could be understood. H. A. Barker's two panoramas of Constantinople can be seen as part of an imperialistic impulse to bring the Islamic Orient 'home' to Britons by laying it before them at the centre of London's entertainment district. Despite the project's modest scale as compared to state-sponsored documentation collected during Napoleon's colonizing mission into Egypt, Barker's images of Constantinople, with their complementary constructions of the Islamic city, intervened within and transformed discourses of orientalism. H. A. Barker's two images not only denoted the power of a British artist to represent a foreign land, but also implied the power of the British public to look at and possess representations of the city. Exhibited during Britain's important military alliance with the Ottoman Empire, the two panoramas of Constantinople attempted to manage the city's strangeness for London visitors. To some extent, this was achieved through the binary logic of similarity and difference. By representing in the view from the European suburb an eclectic mix of building styles, passersby in the foreground both Turkish and British dress, and the British Ambassador's ship at Seraglio point, Constantinople is constructed as a friendly ally against the French in 1801. In contrast, the "view from the Asiatic side," taken from a lower vantage point, emphasizes the elite members of the Ottoman court, with the Seraglio in the background. In this image, the elaborately attired bodies of the Sultan and the dignitaries of the Ottoman Court, including the eunuchs, catered to Britain's fascination with the Orient in terms of its difference—here 147 registered by the traditional-seeming Turkish ceremonials and dress. That "1801" was printed on the descriptive key for the view from the European suburb, underscores that this modern and European aspect of the city is a part of the contemporary present. In contrast, the key for the view from the Tower of Leander is not dated; indeed, the text at the centre of this key describes the city as "ancient and superb." As well, in the key for the view from the "Asiatic" side of the Bosphorus, the Sultan's title is printed, but not his name. This suggests that this image of this figure could stand for any of the "Grand Signior's" that ruled the Ottoman Empire during its long existence. This polarity of ancient and modern had a special significance in Britain in the eighteenth century. As historian Jacques Le Goff has noted, during the Renaissance in Europe the culture of ancient Greece and Rome was accorded precedence over all others, and the idea was established that the modern had a rightful claim to superiority only if it incorporated the ancient by continually circling back to antiquity as a point of reference.8 2 This attitude was transformed in the eighteenth century as the Enlightenment notion of ongoing linear progress took hold. As Jacques Le Goff explains: the battle between the ancient—modern pair becomes less a battle between past and present than between two forms of progress: on the one hand, a progress by recourse to origins and the Eternal Return, a circular progress by recourse to origins and the cycle, and on the other hand a linear progress that privileges everything that moves away from Antiquity. 8 3 To distinguish the two vista's of Constantinople based on these categories of ancient and modern is revealing. By designating the "Asiatic" view on the key as "ancient and superb" (emphasis mine), the image was 148 deliberately placed at a temporal distance from the view from the European suburbs, where, keeping Le Goff s two forms of progress in mind, it could be either exalted or denigrated by the onlooker. The Panorama's unique form set in place a dialectical relationship between the two paintings, at the same time that it encouraged spectators to embark on a circular progression from the modern view from the European suburb up the stairs to the ancient and superb "Asiatic" one back down again. Yet Greece or Egypt not Constantinople was Europe's usual reference for objects and information on the ancient world, and a viewing of Constantinople implied an interest in the current political, commercial and cultural world. In this respect, while the view from the European suburb displays the city as both familiar and friendly to the British, as one would expect of the capital of a political ally, it also corresponds with Sultan Selim Ill's attempts to modernize the Ottoman state while maintaining certain traditional institutions. 8 4 In the late eighteenth century, Ottoman rulers tried to meet their military challenges by introducing their armed forces to European training. Selim III undertook far-reaching military and political reform of the empire, which he named the New Order. 8 5 This involved a progressive recasting of the social patterns of the capital so as to support a policy of orderly and profitable economic and cultural dependence on the West. Both occupied and unoccupied areas became enmeshed in a European based political and commercial system. 8 6 Between 1750 and 1815, the Ottoman Empire as a whole was incorporated into the capitalist world economy.8 7 The British were the first to benefit from the administrative practices which were 149 being adapted to suit Occidental expectations as the Ottoman empire was opened up to rationalized exploitation.8 8 Indeed, as the British Captain, David Sutherland commented in 1791: The Turks happily for us, are not a commercial people, notwithstanding their Empire has every advantage to induce them to become so. We cannot do without those valuable articles which their soil produces almost spontaneously, and the Turks, like the easy possessor of a very rich mine, allow us to enrich ourselves at our pleasure. 8 9 Evidently, British merchants found it easy to market Turkish produce to a public in London that had grown accustomed to the taste of olives, lemons, oranges, figs, raisins, pomegranates, dates, pistachio nuts, almonds, and "exquisite coffee".90 Britain's trade with the Turks improved after Napoleon's Egyptian expedition in 1798.91 The war in Egypt increased the demand for British goods needed by the Ottomans to supply the armies they sent against the French invaders. The military alliance between Britain and the Ottoman Empire led to a treaty in January 1799, giving British merchants permission to trade in the Black Sea region after 1802. For the duration of the war the British possessed a virtual monopoly on Ottoman markets. 9 2 The economic opportunity that Constantinople represented at this time for British merchants is glossed over in the reference book H.A. Barker and his father printed for their London patrons concerning the thriving Ottoman city and port. Rather, the pamphlet cites Richard Knolles' three volume work, The Turkish History, first published in 1610, and revised in its sixth edition (1687) by Sir Paul Rycault, the consul for Smyrna. According to historian Nabil Matar, Rycault's writings had a tremendous impact on the perception of the Ottoman Empire in 150 Restoration and eighteenth-century England. 9 3 H.A. Barker cites a passage in Knolles's book where he describes the situation of the city as at once liminal and central: "This noble city, of all others most fitly seated for the empire of the world (emphasis mine), and with great majesty over-looking both Europe and Asia, is accounted to stand in the height of 43 degrees, upon seven little hills of easy ascent."9 4 A second citation in the reference book, from the memoirs of the Baron de Tott, expresses the same idea: If the ambition of governing the universe searched for a situation the most favourable for establishing a capital of the world (emphasis mine), Constantinople would undoubtedly have the preference; situated between two seas, this city would form at once the centre for the most useful production and the most flourishing commerce." 9 5 Of import in both these passages is the emphasis on Constantinople as a pivotal site able to dominate not only two continents but the entire world. In quoting these historians H.A. Barker is careful to exclude the fear and loathing with which both authors had embellished their descriptions of the "Empire of the East." For example, Knolles wrote that with their "false Prophet Mahoment," the Islamic people were responsible for "the unspeakable ruin and destruction of the Christian Religion and State: especially in Asia and Africk, with some good part of Europe also."9 6 Instead, the Barkers' pamphlet focuses on what would have been for Londoners the less contentious aspects of the city: such as its stunning appearance, and its strategic geographic position between the Eastern and Western hemispheres. By the early nineteenth century the Ottoman Empire was a declining power with an antiquated navy that had recently lost territory to Russia 151 and France. In contrast, the British Empire had the most powerful navy in the world, and was aggressively expanding its influence either diplomatically (as in Constantinople), or by force (as in India), over more and more foreign lands and markets. Thus by incorporating the image of this liminal city on the cusp between the east and the west into the Panorama at London, a realist mode of representation enabled a British public to 'occupy' the pivotal city which, in historical texts at least,was linked to a vital global empire. The navies and traders of Constantinople were close to the Red Sea and the Gulf of Persia for voyages to India and China, and to the Mediterranean and the Black Sea for travel to Russia, Europe and Africa. 9 7 As has been noted earlier, Barker's diary chronicles his repeated visits to the second viewpoint, the Tower of Leander, to draw from the "Asiatic" side of the city. The text reveals the different character of his desire to draw from this vantage point through his continued confusion over the tower's name. In fact, each time Barker referred to the tower in his diary he called it by a different name: "Tower of Leander," "Kiss Coolia," "The Maiden Tower," "Ghiz Koolli." He finally decides to designate it "my tower." These names mark this site out as a place of shifting, evocative meanings. This ambivalence is revealed on the key as well where it is named "Tower of Leander, or Maiden Tower." Missing from the map that Barker included in the reference book to the finished panorama, and on which the Tower of Galata is indicated in large type, the location of the Tower of Leander was evidently less important than the 152 associations that its different names could conjure up for Barker and his viewers. Barker's reference book explains that the Europeans mistakenly called the tower the Tower of Leander, which derived from a classical Greek legend recorded by Ovid. 9 8 Ovid's story relates that the youthful Leander would swim to his beloved Hero from the Asiatic shore each night, guided by a light placed by her in a tower by the shore. One stormy night the lamp was extinguished, and Leander was drowned. Hero in her grief threw herself from the tower to join her lover in death. For spectators familiar with the famous legend, this site could symbolize the romantic and sexual union of East and West. Transferred to the geographical terms at issue in the panorama vista, the legend not only supported an image of a masculinized Europe in harmony with a feminized Asia, but also encouraged the eroticization of the Orient, which, as will be discussed more fully at a later point, intersected with the Seraglio's evocation in the West of the harem and available sexuality. Another opposition set up by the comparison enabled by the juxtaposition of the two views in the Panorama, one that implicitly incorporates the West/East, Modern/Ancient polarities discussed above, consists of presenting the Tower of Galata as the masculine counterpart of the feminine Tower of Leander or Maiden Tower. The view from the "Asiatic" side is feminized through the tower's two names, whether Leander or Maiden, as well as through the depiction of a watery view that depicts the Sultan's timeless and slow procession to his summer palace, and through its concentration on human bodies rather than the built 153 environment. While the Tower of Galata is located in time and space on the key and the map (that was included in the reference book to the views), the Tower of Leander or Maiden Tower is not clearly identified by these coordinates. This, along with its two names, allows the tower to take on the femininized characteristics of absence, ambiguity, and mystery. Thus a binary is set up between the two views of the city, which are then seen in relation to London, the setting of their exhibition. A three-way way comparison thus becomes possible in which London spectators are invited to see the 'Other' as both the same and as different at the same time. This disturbs conventional discourses of orientalism by at once calling them up and shifting the way that they operated in relation to the captial of the Ottoman Empire during its alliance with Britain. But the feminized and 'ancient' associations of Constantinople evoked through the view from the "Asiatic"' side of the Bosphorus had other implications as well. On the map in the reference book an asterisk indicates "Seraglio-point", where the Sultan's palace was located. The asterisk not only marks the omission of words, it also indicates the entrance to the city—and the position occupied in each key by two different convoys. In the descriptive key for the European view, the British Ambassador's convoy of vessels, indicated as number 29, the last item in the index of the key, is shown arriving at Seraglio point. In the descriptive key for the "Asiatic" view, the Sultan's barge, shown exiting the city, occupies the same location. That is, Britain's representative, Lord Elgin, is shown arriving in Constantinople on official business in one of the world's most technologically advanced ships at full sail, symbolically eclipsing the 154 Sultan's departure, which the key indicates is for his summer palace in a traditional barge pulled along by several slave rowers. Such a comparison, made during Britain's military alliance with the Ottoman Empire against a common enemy, could also be regarded as Britain's rescue and protection of a declining Asian power from technically and tactically superior French forces. The view of Constantinople from the European suburb thus can be seen to have complemented the "Asiatic" view in such a way that the political alliance of the two empires and their military forces left the British viewer with no doubt as to Britain's capacity for technological dominance. While Barker's two views of Constantinople played upon constructs of a fixed East-West divide that would have supported notions of an inherent British superiority, a closer examination of the two panoramas, and their supporting documents, indicates places where the binary opposition was undermined and complicated. Of particular interest here is the manner in which the two representations orchestrated spectatorship inside the Panorama. Unlike conventional planar paintings in which perspectival constructions describe the view in one direction, the circular views of the panorama mitigate against unidirectional readings. From the vista point centered in the European suburbs of Constantinople, viewers within the panoramic circumference could take up all the positions on the compass. Yet, by producing two views of Constantinople, it suddenly became possible to establish a connection between the two different viewpoints. The seemingly measurable distance between the two towers of Galata and 155 Leander created a line of sight between them, which simultaneously connected the two viewpoints and defined the huge metaphorical chasm that separated them both spatially and temporally. Each of the views presented the city using a different ideological filter. With the simultaneous exhibition of the two views of Constantinople it now becomes possible for the viewer to move through four different spatial realities (as opposed to the three that were discussed in Chapter One) that separate them even further from the streets of Leicester Square. Now the thresholds crossed mark a passage from the street to narrow entrance passageway to the painting, from the narrow passageway to the circle of observation where the painting can be viewed, from the circle of observation into the space of the illusion, and, for the first time, from the observation platform or viewpoint for one vista to the sighting of that viewpoint from another observation platform. A l l are different stages or levels of experience that remove the viewer from the reality of the world outside and place them within the new reality created by their passage through the multiple thresholds set in place by the representation. Nevertheless, the representation of the same city through two views manipulating the logic of binary opposites also exposed the arbitrary and constructed quality of both representations. The way in which the Panorama brought stereotypical Eastern and Western world-views together in one place allowed for the possible reconfiguration of the traditional orientalist views of the city. The supplementary, "Asiatic" view exposed "the problem of representation claiming to be presence and the sign of the thing itself."9 9 The space between the two views, the liminal 156 stairwell that joined them, allowed for the rupture of each view's claim to truth. If two such different versions of the city are possible, then other views are also possible. This fact undermines the consistency and determinacy of the orientalist discourse. In H.A. Barker's map of the area (fig. 4), Asia Minor is at the left, Constantinople at its center (the reference book acknowledges that its Turkish name is "Stambul" 1 0 0), with Europe located at the bottom. The city proper is designated using a motif that imitates mosaic tiles, no doubt in homage to the famous Christian mosaicists who worked in the city during the Middle Ages. A directional symbol is topped by a crescent which points due South. Muslim geographic tradition places the South at the top of the page. Since the sixteenth century, British maps of the world's geography typically situated North at the top of the map. Even if the readers of this map were knowledgeable of the area's geography, H. A. Barker's adoption of the Muslim convention would suddenly make it look unfamiliar—cast it in a new form by turning the world upside-down. This move, for Western viewers, would have upon first glance appeared as though the East was suddenly in the West. Located at the right of the map, the name "Asia Minor" is read first. Since importance is given to what is at the top of the map, 1 0 1 this reversal may have disoriented readers, and interfered with conventional values that they associated with specific spatial locations, and directions. In so doing, the map had the potential to increase the city's liminality, both as place in the world and as representation, for its London audiences. 157 Another destabilization of meaning occurs with respect to the key to the "Asiatic" view. In contrast to the index of the key for the view from the European suburb, with its consecutive list of sites numbered from 1 to 29, in the key for the view from the "Asiatic" side the index is divided into a numerical and an alphabetical part, neither of which follow a consistent and sequential order. While the lettered barges signify a hierarchy of positions with 'A' being the highest and 'G' the lowest, their representations on the index are ordered differently. As if to build up narrative suspense, the alphabetical index directs the viewer clockwise, starting near the end of the procession with barges D and E, moving up toward the front of the line through barges C and B and finally arriving at A: "The Grand Signior in his State Barge." The sequence ends with F and G, the barges at the head of the procession which clear the way. The barge in which the Sultan is rowed out, as well as the other barge following him in which he is rowed back, is distinguished from all of the other barges in the procession by its greater size, its black colour, and its decorative details. A canopy shields the Sultan's body, which is nevertheless still visible underneath. Although it is not delineated on the key, a contemporary British writer had described the Turban typically worn by the ruler: "The Grand Seignior wears a turban twisted differently and richly adorned with jewels of inestimable value, in the centre he wears a large emerald of a most beautiful lustre, from which rises a neat plume of small feathers." 1 0 2 In addition to marveling to similar displays of wealth in the panorama, British spectators of the scene would also have enjoyed the 158 appearance of the luxurious fabrics on view, many familiar through contemporary fashion. The Ottoman Empire was famous in London for its tafta, damask, muslin, gauze and fustian cloths. In fact, influenced by Britain's close ties with the Ottoman Turks, women's dresses were not only made with these fabrics, but Turkish styles became fashionable as well. 1 0 3 The coloured engravings from this period in Lady's Monthly Museum demonstrate this trend. Three images in particular have descriptions that read: "Turkish robe with lace trimming, Turban head dress," 1 0 4 "Yellow spotted muslin dress, purple sarcenet of white muslin spencer, Aboukir hat of straw," and "White muslin robe with Mameluke sleeves looped up with a button, and trimmed with blue foil and feathers." 1 0 5 As Asian women, according to British commentators, "were instructed from their infancy in all the arts of varying and heightening the pleasures of voluptuous love," 1 0 6 the adoption of Turkish clothes would have offered British women a touch of both the exotic and the erotic. 1 0 7 However, the "Asiatic" view of Constantinople was complicated by what was not seen as much by what was. In the final passage in the reference book H.A. Barker turns his attention to the Grand Signior's harem. In an awkwardly written paragraph taken from a footnote in Samuel Baker's publication on the Ottoman Turks of 1796, Barker instructs his readers that the harem was a central feature of the palace and while "every Turk" could have a harem, foreign ambassadors did not. Barker explains that the Seraglio of the Grand Signior is divided by an intermediate apartment, 159 which separates the Harem from what is properly the Seraglio; and though the whole is in general called the Seraglio, that part which is called the Harem, strictly signifies the apartments of the women, and the inclosures appropriated to their use. The other part signifies those buildings occupied by the Grand Signior, and his household. Foreign ambassadors have each a Seraglio, but no Harem; and every Turk may have a Harem; but the Vizer himself has no Seraglio. The Grand Signior has both. 1 0 8 The movement of this text from a mere footnote in Baker's 1796 publication to the final paragraph of H. A. Barker's explanation of the two views underscores the fascination the harem held for the Christian West—and a London public the beginning of the nineteenth century. The key to the "Asiatic" view also underscores this point. The first letter in the index is D: "The Haznedar, a black eunuch, and Treasurer to the Sultan." By ignoring the hierarchy of the more than sixty individuals in the procession, the key's design ensures that the black Eunuch is the first subject to which the viewer's attention is drawn. The eunuch and treasurer is singled out visually in the key in the middle of barge D, the sixth in line, by the thicker circle of black ink which is used to outline his head, and the Chief of the black Eunuchs in barge C, is emphasized in a similar manner. Black eunuchs, as harem guards, had preoccupied of British travel writers since at least the sixteenth century. 1 0 9 The fascination with the bodies of the black eunuchs of the Ottoman court also encompassed fear of their power—of of their transformed bodies and sexuality. In Thomas Watkin's narrative of his visit to the Seraglio in Constantinople in 1789, for example, the inner palace guarded by "Moorish eunuchs" is described: It is impossible to conceive the human form more horrid than it appears in the last of these animals; their faces mutilated, their bodies distorted, and yet the unholy monsters (for so they are) 160 principally possess the confidence and favour of the Sultan, who bestows on them the most gentle names, such as Rose, Jonquil, Narcissus, & c , in consequence of this, their authority is so great that the proudest Pashas of the realm court their protection, and shudder at their frown. 1 1 0 Constituted as both powerful and powerless, in this description the fascination with the black eunuch is closely linked with fear. As Lisa Lowe has argued, the eunuch's separation from himself, his divided person, and his lack of sexual function, is emblematic of a social and political impotence. 1 1 1 His castration, far from rendering him asexual, "coexists with an idealized memory of possession and power; it is the mark of a state of lack which is characterized by desire that can never be fulfilled." 1 1 2 In highlighting two black eunuchs in the key, sexuality is used as a trope for other power relations within the dynamic of British Imperialism. Yet, as guards of the harem—what to many British writers of this period was an enclosure that signified an unlimited choice of captive but willing sexual partners—the black eunuchs prevented their entry into this space. These men thwart the Western male fantasy of penetrating the forbidden world of the harem, which may be the reason that they are singled out on the key. Furthermore, the eunuch's desire for a lost state of wholeness has its correlate in the panorama spectator's desire for visual phallic potency. 1 1 3 Together, the two panoramas constructed a viewpoint before which observers could stand that would allow them to adopt a look of supreme mastery. In this liminal context on the margins of East and West, the simultaneous projection of a view/reverse view signified at once the union with the 'Other,' and the re-constitution of the self as a unified whole. The Panorama with its two paintings, then, constructs the illusion 161 of phenomenological immanence (what Jacques Lacan describes as the impossible position of, "I see myself seeing myself'). 1 1 4 The binaries implied by the juxtaposition of the two images were also undermined by the relationship between the two towers in each view of Constantinople. In the key for the "Asiatic" view, the numbered index corresponds to the index on the key for the view from the European suburb in that it contains a small selection of the city's mosques that could also be seen from the lower vantage point of the Leander Tower. It also featured the addition of a new number, 30, to designate a new site, the Tower of Galata. Heretofore it had been impossible for representation to construct a view in which the tower from which one was looking could be seen from both the outside and the inside. Shown together, the two views orchestrated the looking of the viewer between the two towers. The opposite tower stood as a marker of the spectator's former viewpoint. Its presence in the opposite view enabled spectators to see themselves as all-powerful subject-viewers who could at once occupy a viewing position in the Tower of Leander in Asia, and project themselves inside of the Tower of Galata in Europe, to 'see' the reverse view at the same time. In this way, the two views of Constantinople went further than ever before towards establishing a viewing process that encouraged spectators to believe in the reality that was constructed for, and through, them by the image. By means of the view from the Tower of Leander on the "Asiatic" side of the Bosphorus spectators could locate the point of origin or place from which the view from the European suburbs was taken. The "supplementary" view from the east calls the completeness of the view 162 taken from the European side into question. It indicates that each view, no matter how totalizing its form, can only ever be partial and relative. The text at the centre of the Asian key states that this view will provide a better idea of the city as a whole. But the existence of the supplementary, Asiatic' view undermines the panorama's claim to be "all-seeing." The need for completeness, for a totalizing view, which would serve up the city all at once, is a metaphor of the subject's desire for self-mastery and completion. According to Jacques Derrida, a supplement either adds something to something else to make it complete, or completes something already complete in itself. Either way, the supplement points out what is lacking in the original object.1 1 5 This lack is identified and negotiated by means of the phallic, military tower pictured in the "Asiatic" view. Instead of all-seeing, these two markedly different views of the same city emphasize the relativity of viewpoints. Furthermore, by placing the view from the "Asiatic" side in the circle of observation above that in which the view from the European suburbs was displayed, the relations of power set up within the orientalist hierarchy was somewhat inverted. The double view of the city of Constantinople allowed London audiences to 'enter' the picture in a way not possible in the single panorama vistas. This was achieved at one remove, by means of the "Asiatic" view's reference to the view from the European suburbs on exhibit downstairs in the Panorama. As if enclosed within a time machine, viewers were encouraged to move between the two oppositional constructs of space and time. Nonetheless, spectators could establish an immediate connection between the two views by acknowledging, "there is 163 the tower that I was looking from in the other circle of observation." 1 1 6 In fact, the panorama would have achieved its fullest effect, its optimum power over the viewer, at the moment they recognized the tower as the viewpoint for the other view. As many writers have asserted, the Albertian perspectival regime constructs the viewer as a physical presence. Yet, in the panorama where the focal points were multiple, the viewer had more freedom to glance across the surface of, rather than gaze into, its illusionistic space. The Tower of Galata in the European suburb of Constantinople functioned as a sign of the subject's original viewpoint. It was an ideal vanishing point in the second view, taken from the Asian side of the Bosphorus, that orchestrated what visual theorist Norman Bryson has described as, "a system which incarnates the viewer," which renders her or him into a representation. 1 1 7 The existence of the "Asiatic" view allowed spectators to see themselves as a visible object within the illusionistic space created in the view from the Tower of Leander. Drawing on the work of Jacques Lacan, Bryson explains that perspective constructs two symmetrical visual cones that intersect at the picture plane. The rays of one cone emanate outwards from the spectators' eyes to the picture plane, and the rays of the other cone converge at one end at the vanishing point in the painting. The centric ray, the horizontal line that crosses through the axis of the two cones from one vanishing point to the other, Bryson advises, "constitutes a return of the gaze upon itself," which is to say that the single vanishing point marks the installation within the painting of a principle of radical alterity, since its gaze 164 returns that of the viewer as its own object; something is looking at my looking. A gaze whose position I can never occupy, and whose vista I can imagine only by reversing my own, by inverting the perspective before me, and by imagining my own gaze as the new, palindromic point of disappearance on the horizon. 1 1 8 Bryson states that in normal perspective views, the spectator can never occupy the position of the gaze inside of the painting, the painting's gaze that looks back at her or him and constitutes them as a corporeal, measurable and visible object. But the formal relation between the view from the "Asiatic" side of the Bosphorus and that from the European suburbs in the Panorama sets up a powerful visual experience. These relations suggest that the spectator could take up positions both in front of and inside of the image. The "Asiatic" view gave the spectator the opportunity to not only see the place from which she had been looking in the European view, but it allowed her to imaginatively project herself into the Tower of Galata, creating the fiction that she could occupy a position within the image. The fiction that, by relying on her memory of the view she had seen downstairs, she could see both this vista and the reverse vista at the same time. Instead of the gaze of the painting looking at her looking, the two views orchestrated a visual practice in which the spectator could imagine that they saw themselves in the act of looking, and thus becoming the main subject of the view. When viewers located the 'here-there' enunciation that these two complementary views set up between the two views, they were constituted as moving subjects, appropriating space as an T that could articulate both a here and a there.119 The instant that the spectators recognized 165 themselves in the opposite tower their real and metaphorical worlds could overlap. Instead of simply referring to the world outside of the painted illusion, the two paintings arranged a looping effect with each other. Because reference to the world outside of the view was made through the intermediary of another representation, spectators of the two views of Constantinople were trapped in a double bind of representation. This viewing situation meant that there was no 'outside' of the representation, it meant that one 'reality' created in the 'Asiatic' view was reinforced by the mere citation of another 'reality' simulated in the European view. Thus, in this unique case, the work of looking shifts into a more powerful process of incorporating the viewer inside of two images that have the strange power of transforming the act of seeing into the act of believing, and of fabricating new realities out of appearances. The key for each view forms a circle of the horizon marking out an Eastern and a Western Hemisphere. The circle of the horizon, which demarcates the edge of the world and the limit of the gaze, in each key partially overlaps with the space of the opposite view. The metaphorical city lies 'in between,' in the space or gap which is opened up between the views which belongs to neither of them and is one of the subjects of both images. 1 2 0 As Louis Marin explains, the Utopian spatial order that exists on the limit of the horizon is an 'in between' space that is both the site of reconciliation and synthesis and the place of the encounter of violent and resisting forces. 1 2 1 It is a distance that separates a geographical fiction from a political and social one. 1 2 2 The distance between the two towers, 166 which could also be seen as the space traveled up or down the Panorama's stairwell which connected the two views, provides such an intermediate zone. In presenting an immense view of a city without the sounds, smells, gestures, tastes and physical sensations of lived experience, the panorama, for the most part, constructed the spectator as an evacuated body—a decorporalized lusting pair of eyes. Henri Lefebvre marks the shift that took place at the beginning of the modern period, from the space of the body to the body-in-space that effects the disappearance or scotomization of the body as the turning point that ushers in the abstraction of space. 1 2 3 The urban panoramic painting represents the conflation between the geometrical and the visual that relates to what Lefebvre perceives as the homogeneous, simultaneous space of architectural and urbanistic modernity. Relating homogeneous space to the Cartesian tradition of rationality, he asserts that it is also "the space of blank sheet of paper, drawing-boards, plans, sections, elevations, scale-models, geometrical projection, and the like." 1 2 4 The panoramic view from the tower presented a narrow rationality which overlooked the total body and ignored the fact that space "...does not consist in the projection of an intellectual representation, does not arise from the visible-readable realm, but that it is first of all heard (listened to) and enacted (through physical gestures and movements.)" 1 2 5 Such spatial practice, however, did occur to some extent between the different groups of observers assembled on the Panorama's viewing platform. Importantly, while the panorama catered to sight, ignoring the other senses, sometimes the body came into play in spite of things, as evidenced by the frequently cited feeling of nausea inside the panorama. 1 2 6 And because representation in the panorama does not take the form of paint on a flat surface, the relationship of the image and its effect on the viewer's body is altogether different from that of conventional perspectival constructions. The viewer is governed in the panorama not only by their eyes, but by their expectations, their movement and position with respect to the cylindrical painting and the panorama key, and especially their muscular and visceral sensation. 1 2 7 The panorama painting constructs a viewing situation in which viewers see only from one point, but are looked at from all sides by the gaze of the view. Paradoxically, the only way that the image confers on the viewer a sense of mastery and control was if that viewer submitted to its ideal line of sight established between the two towers. Otherwise, in the panorama the viewer's body was engulfed and surrounded by the image which made the viewing relationship not as safe. Thus, from the moment when they stepped onto the circular observation platform, observers in the panoramas of Constantinople were encouraged to position themselves in front of the image of the tower, in order to activate the panorama's ultimate threshold, the one which allowed the panorama form to cite the opposite view as evidence that what 168 they were seeing could be believed. By means of this formal innovation, spectators were drawn more deeply into the illusionistic space of the painting, and hence more deeply into its content. The view/reverse view would have had the effect of offering spectators a way of stepping in and out of the space of the 'Other,' while at the same time seeing this space as transitional, and shifting in relation to their own city, London. Nevertheless, the two views allowed spectators to play with the idea of alterity in ways that did not threaten notions of British cultural superiority, in fact, as I have argued, the visual experience of seeing Constantinople from both sides supported such notions. Thus, the Panorama's highly illusionistic images functioned as an important means of forging links between Britain's imperial project and the domestic imagination. The sophisticated visual strategies these representations employed to trap observers inside the two images helped to shape their conceptions of what Constantinople was, and, in so doing, they participated in the realignment of power relations between the British and Ottoman Empires. 1 See Appendix A for table listing the subjects and dates of exhibition of Barker's views. It was not until June of 1814, however, that H.A. Barker's bank account balance rose above L1000. See Appendix B for a graph of Robert and Henry Aston Barker's bank balances from June 1791 to June 1820, Coutts Bank Archive, Strand, London. 2 Anon., "Modebelustingungen in London. Neues Panorama. Grausende Darstellung der Schlacht bei Abukir," Journal London und Paris 3 (1799), p. 313, cited in Stephan Oettermann, The Panorama: A History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997), p. 108. 3 Robert Porter's huge battle scenes shown at the Lyceum, for example, were extremely popular. See Lady's Monthly Museum, 169 4Morning Chronicle, 21 April 1801, p. 1. 5 Henry Aston Barker, A Concise Account of the Views of Constantinople (London: Panorama and Messrs. Richardsons, Royal Exchange, 1801). 6 Zeynep Celik, The Remaking of Istanbul (Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993), p. 8. 7 Celik, Remaking of Istanbul, p. 160. 8 Anon., "The Russian Armament," The Annual Register, or a View of the History, Politics, and Literature for the Year 1791, 33 (London: F. and C. Rivington, 1795), p. 99. 9 Marshall G. S. Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization 3 (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), pp. 214-16. 10 Morning Chronicle, 10 November 1801, p. 1. 1 1 H.A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 5. 12 Morning Chronicle (London), 21 April 1801, p. 1. See also Appendix A for exhibition dates. 13Morning Chronicle, 10 November 1801, p. 1. 1 4 H.A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 7. 15 Morning Chronicle, 10 November 1801, p. 1. In fact there were three phases in which views of Constantinople were exhibited at the panorama. First, the View of Constantinople (from the Tower of Galata) was exhibited in the lower circle for several months with View of Ramsgate in the upper circle. Second, the View of Ramsgate was replaced by the View of Constantinople (taken from the Tower of Leander), and the two views of Constantinople were shown together for about six months. Third, the lower view of Constantinople was replaced by a view of Lord Nelson's Attack on Copenhagen while the exhibition of the upper view of Constantinople continued. See Appendix A for the dates of these exhibitions. 1 6 Henry Aston Barker's two diaries of this trip are held at the National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, MSS 9647 (1799-1800) and 9648 (1800). 1 7 Michel de Certeau, "Travel Narratives of the French to Brazil: Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries," Representations 33 (Winter 1991), p. 221. 1 8 George Richard Corner, "The Panorama: With Memoirs of its Inventor, Robert Barker, and his son, the Late Henry Aston Barker," The Art Journal, n.s., 3 (1857), p. 47. 1 9 Celik, Remaking of Istanbul, p. 30. 2 0 In contrast to other and earlier print images of the city for example, those taken from an elevated "bird's eye" vantage point above the Sultan's Palace at the western tip of the city's central peninsula (figs. 14 & 15), H. A. Barker's view from the Tower of Galata, Constantinople is cast in a modern and cosmopolitan guise. The image Barker's view most ressembles, however, is a multi-part sixteen century drawing by Melchior Lorichs (figs. 16-19). This drawing portrays the city from Galata in three-hundred-and sixty degrees on a series of separate sheets. H.A. Barker may have been familiar with this exceptional work in perspective, and may have tried to improve on it by adapting it to his father's technology of the Panorama. 2 1 H.A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 14. 2 2 Leslie Peirce, The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993, pp. 11, 271. 2 3 Peirce, Imperial Harem, p. 3. 24Morning Chronicle, 10 November 1801, p. 1. 170 2 5 Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), p. 76. 2 6 Celik, Remaking of Istanbul, p. 10. 2 7 For a discussion of phenomenalism and perspective, see Chapter Three. 2 8 David Michael Levin, ed., introduction to Modernity and the Hegemony of Vision (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1993), pp. 1-20. 2 9 Nabil Matar, Islam for Beginners (New York and London: Writers and Readers, Inc., 1992), p. v. 3 0 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 90. 3 1 Michel de Certeau, "Travel Narratives of the French to Brazil: Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries," Representations 33 (Winter 1991), p. 221. 3 2 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 1. 3 3 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 10. 3 4 Michele Cohen argues that support for the the Grand Tour as a means of fashioning the gentleman had ended by the late eighteenth century. She notes that Linda Colley, in Britons, argues that it was replaced by internal tourism. Fashioning Masculinity: National Identity and Language in the Eighteenth Century (London and New York: Routledge, 1996), pp. 60-62. 3 5 For example, Thomas Watkins writes: "I went out two miles for the purpose of seeing to advantage this city and its vicinity, possessed as they are of every external beauty that can astonish and delight the beholder... On turning my boat I was much pleased with the Prince Islands, eight or nine miles distant from Constantinople; and still more with the mountains of Asia, particularly Olympus, near Bursa, covered with eternal snow. When I had gazed some time in rapture upon this incomparable prospect, I returned and landed in Constantinople." Travels through Switzerland, Italy, Sicily, the Greek Islands to Constantinople, through part of Greece, Ragusa, and the Dalmatian Isles; In a Series of Letters to Pennyre Watkins, Esq. from Thomas Watkins, in the years 1787,1788, 1789. 2* ed., 2 (London: J. Owen, Piccadilly, 1794), p. 229. 3 6 Luce Girard cites Alphonse Dupront's definition of the pilgrimage as a "physical act of mastery over space," and comments that Dupront's work focuses on "the emergence of Christian Europe from the Middle Ages and from its geographical frontiers: 'The occidental discoverer indeed is the conqueror of the earth: this conquest saw itself as a crusade or a mission even before the passions of imperialism had found the courage to declare themselves.'" in "Epiloque: Michel de Certeau's Heterology and the New World," Representations 33 (Winter 1991), p. 214. 3 7 H.A. Barker, MS. 9647, pp. 90-91. 3 8 H.A. Barker, MS. 9647, pp. 22-23. 3 9 H.A. Barker, MS, 9647, p. 64. 4 0 H.A. Barker, MS. 9647, pp. 64-65. 4 1 George R. Corner, "The Panorama: with memoirs of its inventor, Robert Barker and his son, the late Henry Aston Barker," n.s., 3 Art Journal (1857), p. 47. 4 2 The Battle of the Nile panorama was exhibited for almost two years before it was replaced by the View of Constantinople in April of 1801. See Appendix A. 4 3 The text continues with an account of Sir Hamilton showing Barker his cabinet of curiosities, which demonstrates his admiration of finely detailed objects and antiquities and also marks him out as a man of taste and knowledge. H.A. Barker, MS 9647, pp. 68-69. 4 4 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 69. 4 5 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 84 171 46 Dictionary of National Biography, s.v. "Thomas Bruce," 7 t h Earl of Elgin. 4 7 Lord Elgin invited Thomas Girtin to join him but he refused, choosing instead to remain in London to paint his Eidometropolis, a panorama of London, which was exhibited at Spring Gardens in 1802. The Times, 25 August 1802; William T. Whitley, "Girtin's Panorama," Connoisseur 69 (1924), pp. 13-20. 4 8 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 93. 4 9 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 86. 5 0 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 87. 5 1 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, pp. 87-88. 5 2 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 90. 5 3 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 91. 5 4 H.A. Barker, MS 9648, p. 4. 5 5 H.A. Barker, MS 9648, pp. 7-8. 5 6 H.A. Barker, MS 9648, p. 6. 5 7 H.A. Barker, MS 9648, p. 10. 5 8 Each sheet measures: 28 x 23 inches (71.3 x 58.1 cm.) The black and white set of eight prints held at the British Museum has been glued together to form a continuous view. Department of Prints and Drawings, Catalogue no. 314621-314628. 5 9 Barker's View of Edinburgh prints were 16 1/2 x 22 inches (42.5 x 55 cm.) each, and his View of London prints were 17 x 22 inches (43.5 x 55 cm.) each. 6 0 Hodgson, Venture of Islam 3, p. 181. 6 1 Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, translated by Steven Rendall (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1984), p. 92. 6 2 de Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 91. 6 3 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 92 6 4 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 97. 6 5 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 111. 6 6 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 114. 6 7 H.A. Barker, MS 9647, p. 119. 6 8 H.A. Barker, MS 9648, p. 13. 6 9 Because of its transient and unplanned nature, this kind of social exchange like that between Barker and the Islamic women was only rarely written down. The action of the latter has an affinity with what de Certeau defines as a tactic, or 'art of the weak.' He writes, "Lacking its own place, lacking a view of the whole, limited by the blindness (which may lead to perspicacity) resulting from combat at close quarters, limited by the possibilities of the moment, a tactic is determined by the absence of power just as a strategy is organized by the postulation of power"(De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 42.) Tactics, unlike strategies, depend on time to change the organization of space. Strategies can be distinguished from tactics by whether they rely on space or time for their actions (De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 42). 70 Morning Chronicle (London), 21 April 1801, p. 1. 71 Times (London), 9 December 1802, p. 4. 72 Times (London), 24 December 1802, p. 1. 7 3 The pamphlet on the view of Edinburgh was printed to accompany the set of six aquatints, not the panorama painting. Robert Barker, Explanation of the Six Plates, which contain a Representation of the City and Environs of Edinburgh. London: A. Grant, 1789. 172 7 4 Richard Knolles, The Turkish History, from the Original of that Nation, to the Growth of the Ottoman Empire 1, 6th ed., revised by Sir Paul Rycault (London: Tho. Basset, 1687), ; Baron de Tott, Memoirs, French Ambassador in the 18th century, cited in Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 8. Barker also refers to (but does not cite) information found in Samuel Baker, Musleiman Adeti, or a description of the customs and manners of the Turks, with a sketch of their literature. 2d ed. (London: A. Milne, 1796). 7 5 Al-Idrisi's Muslim map, translated into English, is reproduced in Nabil Matar, Islam for Beginners (New York and London: Writers and Readers, Inc., 1992), p. 120. 7 6 H.A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 6. 7 7 Ramsgate is a British spa town on the north sea in southeast England. 7 8 The View of Ramsgate "represents the town, the pier, and the harbour of Ramsgate, with the entire surrounding country, and a correct representation of the embarkation of troops, both horse and foot; the men of war lying at the downs, and the town of Deal, and Dover Castle, and the Cliffs on the coast of France. Every object appearing as large as reality." Caledonian Mercury (Edinburgh), 17 July 1802, p. 1. 79 Caledonian Mercury (Edinburgh), 17 July 1802, p. 1. 8 0 Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979) p. 3; and Culture and Imperialism (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), p. 33-36. 8 1 Lisa Lowe, Critical Terrains: French and British Orientalisms (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991), p. 5. 8 2 Jacques Le Goff, History and Memory, trans. Steven Rendall and Elizabeth Claman (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), p. 29. 8 3 Le Goff, History, p. 25. 8 4 Hodgson, Venture of Islam, p. 215. 8 5 Hodgson, Venture of Islam, p. 216. ^Hodgson, Venture of Islam, p. 177. 8 7 Hodgson, Venture of Islam, p. 177. 8 8 Hodgson, Venture of Islam, p. 215. 8 9 Captain David Sutherland, A Tour up the Straits, from Gibraltar to Constantinople,2d ed. (London, 1970), cited in Ali Ihsan Bagis, "British Economic Policy in the Ottoman Empire Under George III," in Four Centuries of Turco-British Relations, eds. William Hale and Ali Ihsan Bagis (London: The Eothen Press, 1984), p. 45. 9 0 Baker, Musleiman Adeti, p. 2. 9 1 For Britain, Napoleon's colonizing mission to the Orient was seen as a provocation. Britain and France were at war in India between 1744 and 1748 and again between 1756 and 1763, until the British won economic and political control of the subcontinent in 1769. Renewed warfare between the two powers had begun in 1793 and by 1798 several naval battles, many of which were represented in the panorama, had been fought for colonies and markets in different parts of the world. See Said, Orientalism, p. 76. 9 2 Ali Ihsan Bagis, "British Economic Policy in the Ottoman Empire under George III," in Four Centuries of Turco-British Relations, ed. William Hale, and Ali Ihsan Bagis (London: The Eothen Press, 1984), p. 47. 9 3 Nabil Matar, "The Representation of Muslim Women in Renaissance England," The Muslim World 86:1 (January 1996), p. 58. 173 9 4 Richard Knolles, The Turkish History, from the Original of that Nation, to the Growth of the Ottoman Empire 1, 6th ed., revised by Sir Paul Rycault (London: Tho. Basset, 1687), cited in Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 8, emphasis mine. 9 6 Baron de Tott, Memoirs, cited in Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 8, emphasis mine. 9 6 Richard Knolles, the Author to the Reader, Turkish History, n.p. 9 7 Samuel Baker, Museliman Adeti, p. 3; It was not until 1884 that London would proclaim that its suburb, Greenwich, was "the zero point in the world [longitude zero], and the centre of time itself." Robert Young, Colonial Desire: Hybridity in Theory, Culture, Race (London: Routledge, 1995), p. 1. 9 8 This legend from Asia Minor was recorded by Ovid in Heroides, XVIII and XIX, see Mark P.O. Morford and Robert J. Lenardon, Classical mythology 2? ed. (New York and London: Longman, 1979), pp. 425-27. 9 9 Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), p. 144. 1 0 0 H. A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 6. 1 0 1 Following a Muslim geographic tradition, the map places south at the top of the page. See Matar, Islam, p. 120. 1 0 2 Baker, Musleiman Adeti, p. 10. 1 0 3 Lady Mary Wortley Montague was known for adopting Turkish dress in the eighteenth century, and her published letters contain copious descriptions of Turkish clothing. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted a portrait of her in Turkish dress. See The Complete Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu 1,1708-1720, ed. Robert Halsband (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965). 104 Lady's Monthly Museum or Polite Repository of Amusement and Instruction, by a society of Ladies, 1 (London: Vernor and Hood, August 1798), Cabinet of fashion: with elegant coloured engravings [plates]. 105 Lady's Monthly Museum 8 (June 1801), Cabinet of fashion: [plates]. 1 0 6 William Alexander, The History of Women from the Earliest Antiquity, to the Present (London: W. Strahan and T. Cadell, 1779), p. 125. 1 0 7 Nevertheless, in the Ottoman Empire a Turk would be severely punished if he wore a turban on his head that he was not entitled to, and when a Christian did so he had to either renounce his faith and become a Muslim or suffer a slow and painful death. See Samuel Baker, Musleiman Adeti, pp. 10-11. Thus the turban, an exclusively male headdress and important religious and status symbol, was transformed significantly as a fashion accessory by fashion conscious women in Britain as well as France. Shorn of its original meaning in this new context, the turban was worn for its appearance alone, for its ability to signify a place that was associated by the British with more liberal sexual practices. British women were able to emulate the dress of the Eastern women and men without any of the social obligations and restraints that go with them. They could play at being Turkish by wearing Turkish clothes. This was a cross-cultural exchange, but one that was based on appearance alone. 1 0 8 H. A. Barker, Views of Constantinople, p. 9. A almost identical passage is found in Samuel Baker in a footnote on page 12. 1 0 9 Pierce, Imperial Harem, p. 11. 1 1 0 Watkins, Travels 2, p. 233 1 1 1 Lowe, Critical Terrains, p. 62. 1 1 2 Lowe, Critical Terrains, p. 63. 174 1 1 3 Lowe uses Jacques Lacan's definition of the phallus: "The phallus is not the penis; it is the symbolic signifier of desire and the mark of subjectivity in that it includes within its definition both the desire for self-possessed subjectivity and its impossibility. In Lacan's rereading of Freud's oedipal process, the castration is symbolic and takes place when the subject is named and enters the social-linguistic field, identifying with the masculinity of the symbolic social arrangements and disidentifying with the femininity of the imaginary prelinguistic domain. In Lacanian theory no subject ever possesses the phallus; it is mythical, contradictory, and impossible." Critical Terrains, p. 63. 1 1 4 Hal Foster, The Return of the Real (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1996), p. 148. 1 1 5 Derrida, Of Grammatology, pp. 144-145. 1 1 6 Or, using Jacques Lacan, the image at this line of sight attempts to situate the viewer in the figuration exemplified in the phrase "I see myself seeing myself," The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-Analysis, ed. Jacques-Alain Miller, trans. Alan Sheridan (Middlesex: Peguin Books Ltd., 1979), p. 80. 1 1 7 Bryson, Vision and Painting: The Logic of the Gaze (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), p. 106 1 1 8 Bryson, Vision and Painting, p. 106. 1 1 9 De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 99. 1 2 0 Louis Marin, "The Frontiers of Utopia," in Utopias and the Millennium, eds. Krishan Kumar and Stephen Bann (London: Reaktion Books Ltd., 1993), p. 15. 1 2 1 Marin, "Frontiers," p. 12. 1 2 2 Marin, "Frontiers," p. 14. 1 2 3 Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1996), p. 201. 1 2 4 Lefebvre, Production, p. 200. 1 2 5 Lefebvre, Production, p. 200. 1 2 6 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 105. See also Chapter Three of this thesis. 1 2 7 Lacan describes this as the subject's "constitutive presence directed at what is called his total intentionality." Four Fundamental, p. 71. 175 Chapter Five Panoramas and their Keys: the Time and Space of Cityscapes and Naval Engagements Over the span of twenty-five years, thirty-eight paintings of different British and European urban views and British battle victories were exhibited at the Panorama, Leicester Square.1 Even though many of these scenes pictured places outside of Britain, they always referred in some way to the British nation and its people. In the previous chapters I have explored how the Barkers' panorama paintings and explanatory documents of views located both inside and outside of London provided visual and verbal accounts of places and events that attempted to locate spectators as British subjects. I have also identified specific viewing situations and practices in which the observer's experience of the panorama exceeded the expectations and control of the painting's producers, allowing multiple and shifting subject positions in relation to politics and identity, 'taste' and social status, as well as gender, ethnicity and 'race' to emerge. In this concluding chapter, I provide an overview of the thesis as a whole by comparing the differences between the modes of representing time and space employed in the panorama paintings and in their printed keys from 1793 to 1819.2 For this time period, I also compare and contrast the modes of representing space and time in the keys of cityscapes and keys of naval engagements. The panoramas and their keys were powerful representations that participated in shaping the social reality that their audiences inhabited. As I will argue, Robert Barker's Panorama at Leicester Square participated in a 176 new phase of the opening up of the world.3 Working together with the painted illusionistic vistas the key's graphic designs promoted a new geographical awareness of the world outside Britain's borders, giving viewers a greater sense both of the territorial reach of the British Empire, and of London's increasing status in relation to other metropolitan centres of power. The panorama keys, as attempts at translating a three-dimensional experience into a two-dimensional form, record a significant shift in modes of spectatorship that took place over twenty-five years. Unlike the huge panorama paintings that had a fixed format and size, and took several months to produce, the keys were cheaply made and their designs were easy to alter.4 As I will show, Robert and later, Henry Aston, Barker introduced changes to the keys by experimenting with different printing techniques, narratives, and modes of representating space and time, in order to make the keys function to directing viewers to the principal sites in the scenes more effective. Each successive alteration in the design of the keys can be seen as an attempt by the Barkers to fine-tune the way in which the keys promoted consensus among spectators on the meaning and significance of the paintings. The artists may also have been responding to their audiences' requests for information and clarification. Nevertheless, while their aim, as expressed on one of the keys to the view of Constantinople exhibited in 1801, was the spectator's "full comprehension" of the depicted scene (fig. 1), the continual design changes to the keys produced from 1793 to 1819, indicate that this goal was never achieved. 177 The very existence of the keys—the fact that one was published for every view since the Panorama opened in 1793—is itself an indication that these objects were not merely useful guides to the view, but indispensable ones. Within the Panorama itself viewers were situated at the centre of a massive perspectival view and incorporated into its illusionistic mechanisms. One interpretive possibility that this chapter raises involves Jacques Lacan's work on the psychology of sight. Distinguishing between the look of the observer and the penetrating gaze of the image, Lacan maintains that visuality is experienced as a process that takes place between the observer and the observed.5 Reversing traditional theories on the commanding position of the spectator with regard to the perspective view, Lacan asserts that the power of the gaze lies outside of the subject, and that the observer is subjected to the gaze of the image.6 In the multi-perspectival panorama painting in which the viewer was surrounded, the power of the painting's gaze was augmented further because there was no way to escape it. From this theoretical standpoint, then, the keys may have played a role in mediating the relation between the subject and the image. As map-like diagrams of the view, ones that spectators could hold in their hands to gain some purchase on what was represented, the keys may have relieved possible feelings of unease and confusion caused by being "looked at" from all sides by the panorama's massive illusionistic pictures. As indicated in previous chapters, the two main components of the panorama were first, its cylindrical structure and central viewing platform, and second, its use of multiperspective to achieve highly illusionistic 178 representations of cities and naval battles. While these two components worked together in the Panorama at Leicester Square, where the rotunda walls and skylights housed and illuminated two cylindrically shaped canvases and situated the spectator at the centre of representations of actual places in the world, it was impossible to represent in equal measure both of these components on the two-dimensional surface of the printed keys. In 1793, Robert Barker had to decide which of the two aspects of his invention—the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree format and central viewing position or the illusionism of perspectival recession—was to be paramount. As I will show, in his early keys Barker chose to emphasize the Panorama as a viewing apparatus with a central viewing platform, rather than providing spectators with miniature vistas of the perspectival illusions exhibited within its walls. Thus, at least at first, his printed keys highlighted the fact that the cylindrical three-hundred-and-sixty-degree structural form of the Panorama made the observer the main subject of the view. By emphasising the central position of the viewer with respect to the painting, the early keys created an image that spectators could actively engage with, one that related to their own bodily experience of the dichotomy between their location in space and time at the Panorama at Leicester Square and the space and time represented in its illusionistic paintings. In turn, by enabling spectators to occupy an internal position in relation to their highly schematic and abstract representations of space, the early keys allowed viewers to consider a fundamentally different conception of space and time than that evoked through the perspectival illusionism of the 179 panorama painting. Indeed, this chapter contends that instead of demanding that the observer focus on the subject matter and objects represented in the panorama's perspective view, the keys presented a discontinuous and incommensurate representation of time and space that encouraged spectators to invent their own spatial narratives and itineraries. In comparison to H.A. Barker's later keys which attempted to represent both the subject matter of the panorama paintings and their illusionistic effects, this early form of key design fostered the constitution of an imaginative and ungovernable spectator. This chapter traces the gradual shift in emphasis in the keys away from the emphasis on the Panorama's cylindrical structure with its central viewing platform and towards the depiction of the subject matter of the painting and its perspectival strategies. My argument is that this move towards a three-dimensional illusionism in the graphic design of the keys significantly altered the way that spatial and temporal relations could be experienced and imagined in the cityscapes and naval battlescapes exhibited at Leicester Square from 1793 to 1819. But as I also want to show, these changes in the design of the keys signal a broader shift taking place in British society during this period with regard to conceptions of space and time. This monumental change has been called by David Harvey "time-space compression."7 By this he means that due to the elimination of spatial barriers by the improvements being made to roads, canals, and ships in post-Enlightenment Europe, the objective social qualities of time and space had to be radically revised.8 With the sudden growth of capitalism that took place in 180 the late eighteenth century in Britain, people were forced to adjust to the new relations that existed between space and time.9 By bringing its spectators into contact with remote places, I have suggested in the course of the preceding chapters, London's Panorama was one of the new forms of representation, that at once helped people to adjust to and usher in such a transformation. But I am further arguing here that the panorama keys are important documents of a gap that existed between the experience of space as process versus the conceptualization of space as concrete. The changes observed in these keys over a quarter of a century promoted scientific claims that were associated with a Cartesian and Kantian belief that individuals were situated within a set of absolute structures of space and time. 1 0 By 1818, when the keys, using a two-tiered, rectangular format, attempted to recreate the perspectival spatial regime of the panorama paintings, the formal and conceptual gap that had existed between the keys and the panorama was suddenly narrowed by the violence of a homogeneous representational and ideological order. As the city spaces and the sea spaces represented in the both the keys and the panorama paintings became more alike as images, their message celebrating the expansion by force and diplomacy of British power and influence abroad became more controlling and codified. What I mean here is that the progressive changes in the design of the keys has another implication, one which suggests that spectators were at the outset able to continually elude the intentions of the artist as well as the dictates of the panorama's material form and subject matter. While to some 181 extent every change in the graphic design of the keys presented spectators with new opportunities for invention, the changes in the keys also worked to constrain and limit the modalities of appropriation available to the spectators. As a result, the shifts in the design of the keys at once provide a record of modernity's increasing rationalisation of space and time, while indicating what was lost in the process. The Centrality of the Spectator Barker's first key, The View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead (fig. 2) of 1793, depicts the "Russian Armament", as it was assembled in 1791 for King George Ill's review of the fleet. This spectacular ceremony was initiated in 1773 to celebrate Britain's naval power.1 1 The key design, its modest scale, letterpress printing, and minimal pictorial content, represents Robert and H.A. Barkers' initial attempt to create a functional guide to their new visual spectacle. There is no illusion of depth in the representation on the key, and the lines used to delineate objects within the image were probably cobbled together from standard letterpress printer's type such as that used for underlining or margin lines. 1 2 The key schematically represents two rows of ships on either side of the channel between the Isle of Wight and Ports Down. Three frigates lie in the middle of the channel between the two horizontal rows of ships. The central frigate, according to the text below the image, "where Company are supposed to stand," is the Iphigenia. The textual information on the key also provides information on the days and hours of the panorama's operation (which were left blank so that 182 they could be changed seasonally according to the number of hours of daylight available to illumine the painting), and the price of admission (one shilling). It also offers the following quantitative data on the making of the painting itself: the view was taken in 1791; the size of the canvas was 10,000 square feet; the diameter of the Panorama rotunda was 90 feet; the painting took four months to paint in oils; and, finally, the 36 ships in the scene are "true portraits," which "appear as large as reality, by effect of the pencil only" (See fig. 2.). What is intriguing about this 1793 key is that while the painted panorama illusionistically situated the viewer on the deck of the Iphigenia between the two rows of anchored ships, the schematic key employs a bifurcated design that flattens out space in opposite directions along a horizontal axis. Thus, the ships are represented lying flat on the print, with their masts and flags pointing away from the three frigates (shown from above) at the centre. The key also required that a viewer turn it upside-down in order to read the names and numbers of guns of the ships on each side of the channel. While the design reinforced the idea that the schematically drawn vessels were oriented towards a central viewer, and therefore were facing each other as they prepared to be reviewed by King George III from the Iphigenia, its format clearly underscored the difficulty of representing the panorama's cylindrical illusionistic image on a two-dimensional surface. Within the panorama, the key could be used like a map. For example, since the key documents the name and the number of guns of each of the Grand Fleet's "ships of the line," it could be used to identify ships as viewers 183 moved their eyes and bodies along to examine the anchored fleet. Yet, while the main function of the key's text and image was to clarify what it was that viewers were looking at in the painting, the abstract construction of space in the key prompted spectators to make a conceptual link to the space of the panorama and its painted illusion. 1 3 By positioning the subject at the centre of the key, the two-dimensional diagram imitated the situation that the three-dimensional, cylindrical painting tried to create for its spectators. Thus, both the panorama and its key permitted the viewer to adopt a central viewpoint with regard to the fleet (one taken up by the King as Chapter Three has discussed.) But there is an important distinction between the two forms of representation. The key implies that spectators are situated as part of the painted composition on the frigate Iphegenia. Its composition suggests that there is no gap between the space of the painting and the space in which the viewer stands within the Panorama building. One of the defining characteristics of the panorama painting was that by situating spectators at the centre of a cylindrical representation it allowed them to assume a central position with respect to the subject matter of the image.1 4 Semiologist Boris Uspensky describes images that place the spectator at the middle of the representation and thereby blur the boundaries between self and image as having an internal point of view. Examples of images with internalized viewpoints date from ancient to modern times and are similar to the two lines of ships represented on Barker's key to the View of the Grand Fleet Moored at Spithead}5 Uspensky contrasts such abstract internalized views with illusionistic externalized 184 views composed by means of a classical linear perspective practiced in the West since the Renaissance, which present illusions that are viewed as if through a window.1 6 What distinguishes Barker's panorama as a visual medium is that it sets in place a scheme of internalization that is based on an externalized perspectival illusionism. As discussed in Chapter Three, this medium in fact allowed viewers to adopt both a central, internalized position with respect to a perspectival illusion and an externalized one at the same time. The goal of Barker's panorama was to deceive spectators, if only temporarily or imaginatively, into believing that there was no boundary between the space where they stood on the observation platform and the illusionistic space of the image. These painted images encouraged spectators to become involved with the representation not only with their eyes but with their entire bodies. Because the panorama dispensed with the conventional external point of view of planar perspective views, keys were required to help spectators to locate themselves in relation to the painted illusion. The emphasis on the internal position of the viewer with respect to the image, which is evident in the key for the View of the Grand Fleet (1793), is significantly altered in Barker's second key produced for a second View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill exhibited in 1795 (fig. 7).17 In this key, which is for a city view rather than a naval scene, the artist introduced important changes in format, composition, and scale to indicate the viewer's central position with respect to not only the image but the panorama structure itself. Moreover, these changes in the design of the key 185 allowed viewers to navigate the fictional space of the city on their own terms and to negotiate the powerful gaze of the panorama image. In the key for the View of London, the artist radically altered the graphic design from a horizontal to a circular format. This new compositional arrangement not only more readily communicated the encircling form of the panorama painting, but it also clearly distinguished the space of the platform on which observers stood from the space of the painting. The boundary separating the space of the viewer and the space of the illusion is reinforced in this key by the use of two types of representation: a measured view from above the architectural structure to show the central viewing platform, and a profile view of the city radiating outwards from the centre that was governed by no single scale of measurement. This boundary gives the impression that the space in which the viewer stands is solid and secure, while the space of the image is vast and unfathomable. In the View of London key the city's major buildings are shown splayed out flat around the perimeter of a central circle. At the outward edges of this irregular, fragmented image of the city, steeples, chimneys and turrets at the tops of edifices point away from the central space like arrows. To incorporate the many buildings, the city of London is displayed in an irregular, elliptical shape. While the representation is far more figurative than the image of the View of the Grand Fleet at Spithead, the boundaries between the elements of water, earth, and air are undistinguished, creating a disjunctive, jumbled effect. The city appears to emerge out of air, and to vanish into air, as though the bridges and buildings were not connected to 186 anything, and were not attached to the earth. St. Paul's Church sits at the top of the key like an island on the Thames, and at the bottom of the key, buildings are haphazardly placed in space. Thus the representation of space in this view is neither ordered by a fixed scale of measurement, nor regulated by means of perspective. Apart from the order created by the numbered sites and their relation to the cardinal points indicated at the middle of the key, there is no fixed way to traverse the space of the image. The abstract nature of this picture invited spectators to use their knowledge of London, their experience of it as a practised place, to decipher its space and make sense of it for themselves. Thus it required a preexisting knowledge of the city for legibility. There are precedents for Barker's circular, abstract, internalized system of representation found in this printed key. A pilgrimage image from the Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493 depicts a series of concentric circles of the stars and planets that orbit the earth (fig. 3). It shows God seated on a throne at the top of the image, surrounded by angels and personifications of the four winds. In this image the individual can situate himself or herself on earth at the centre, but his or her significance and standing in relation to the universe and God's power is conveyed as minuscule and subordinate. Medieval maps also typically emphasised the internal relation of the viewer (fig. 4). In these types of image, which were also common during the Renaissance (fig. 5), the artist represented what it felt like to walk within space, experiencing structures, in an almost tactile way. 1 8 In the eighteenth century there were other attempts besides Barker's to represent a three-187 hundred-and-sixty-degree view on a single page. Horrace-Benedict de Saussure (1740-99), for example, the Swiss geographer, produced an alpine scene which he called, Vue circulaire des montagnes (fig. 6).19 Stephan Oettermann claims that this was the first circular horizontal panorama (as opposed to vertical panoramas in the form of a long rectangular strip).2 0 The picture conveys a view of the entire horizon as it was seen from a central peak. Artists and scientists created this kind of pictorial composition by projecting themselves into the centre of the space represented. Such images invite the spectator to do the same. They draw the spectator into a close, physical relation with the space of the picture. The representation of space and time in the key for the View of London is at odds with the visual experience aimed for in the huge painted panorama of the scene where all the available space of the canvas was filled with a measured, perspectival illusion (an idea of the painted image can be gathered from the series of six aquatints of this view, figs. 8-13). The painting, because of its perspectival mode of representation, would have allowed less room to experience the space of the image as a process, that is for guessing, deciphering, and imagining objects and actions in space. Implementing these major changes in design in the key for the View of London from the Roof of the Albion Mill thus both firmly established the viewer's position with respect to the view, and facilitated a subjective and creative interface with the painted image of the panorama. Not only does the View of London key present the image across three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees, but the space where the viewers are supposed to stand is 188 distinguished from the panorama painting. This change allowed viewers to use the key to quickly comprehend where they were in relation to the objects and buildings in the painted illusion. Operating like a map, the key permitted viewers to follow the numbered sequence of sites as they took a tour around and through the image. But the View of London key was not a map in the strict sense of the word. It differs in many respects from, for example, the circular map, "25 miles round London," published in the guidebook, The Ambulator, or Pocket Companion in a Tour Round London, of 1792 (fig. 14). This map represents a precisely circumscribed image measured in a scale of miles from above using the Ptolemaic grid system of conventional maps. In the round map of the environs of London the compass and scale in miles are synched up, holding together and controlling the organisation of space inside the circle from the periphery. The names of places on the map are oriented towards the North, at the top. In the key, on the contrary, the compass and implicit scale of the inner circles do not order the space of the city image as much as they help to orient the viewer with regard to it. The city's sites are not organised with respect to an upwards pointing north. By placing St. Paul's at the top of the paper, the artist chose compositional values over mapping conventions. The two representations had different functions. While the map measured the earth in two-dimensions around London in order to help travellers find their destinations, the panorama key used a combination of representational strategies to guide observers within a circular, three-dimensional painting. The panorama keys adopted some of the conventions of maps, such as an 189 index or compass, yet they were unusual because they were map-like guides to a painting. Thus they were made for a vicarious, and visual form of travel. Furthermore, in the map from the Ambulator, the irregular shape of the 'Extent of the Penny Post' and the county boundaries, that developed according to varying patterns of human settlement, are bounded, fixed and delimited from the outside by the ruled segments and directions on the circle's border. In contrast, the key mixed bird's eye and profile views. Its ordered interior and chaotic exterior allowed observers to make a separation between the space they entered with their bodies and the space they entered with their eyes alone. In the midst of the panorama painting it may have been hard to distinguish the two types of space because the painted illusion created the impression that the space of the image engulfed the spectator. The key, on the other hand, provided a more stable viewing position by locating the spectator at the centre of the cylindrical painting but outside of the actual image, which gave the individual who held the key a greater sense of control. Unlike the key for the View of the Grand Fleet at Spithead, the View of London key made the boundary between the illusionistic view from the roof of the Albion Mills and the viewing platform abundantly clear. This helped the spectators negotiate between the order inside of the viewing platform (within the circle on the key) and the disorder of the city that surrounded the centre. This profound change in the key design speaks of the audiences' need for these two different types of space to be separated by a clearly marked boundary. This shift also reveals the paradoxical relationship that the 190 panorama form held with its audience: these paintings were elevating but also overwhelming, threatening to break down the boundary between the viewer and the viewed. 2 1 Lacan's theory of the gaze may shed some light on this paradox. In Lacan's seminar on the gaze, he carefully distinguishes between the look (seeing with the eyes) and the gaze which is situated outside of the body.22 According to Lacan, the gaze emanates from the field of the Other, and is oriented towards a lack. While the viewer looks from a single perspective point, she or he is looked at from all sides. The subject is defined as that which is seeable, capable of being seen. For Lacan, while the viewer sees the painting, the painting holds the viewer in its gaze. Thus, vision is a two-way process in which subjectivity is constructed from the outside, and by representations. In separating the gaze and the look, Lacan undermines the privilege of the subject in sight and self-consciousness, as well as the mastery of the seeing subject. The subject under the gaze of the object, turns her or him into a picture. Lacan's theory contends that the balance of power lies in the gaze, that is, in the image, not in the subject. The gaze is in the world, and like language for Lacan, it preexists the subject who, "looked at from all sides," is but a "stain" in the "spectacle of the world." 2 3 Thus positioned, the subject tends to feel the gaze as a threat, as if it queried him or her; and so it is, according to Lacan, that the "gaze, qua object a, may come to symbolize this central lack expressed in the phenomenon of castration,"2 4 For Lacan the gaze is violent, and has been linked to a traumatic realism. 2 5 The threat of 191 the gaze would have been amplified in the panorama because it was a continuous and multi-perspectival representation. There was no way of escaping the gaze of the image inside a panorama. It surrounded the viewer, interrogating her or him everywhere she or he looked. While the subject looks from only one side, the image is all around her or him, and this manifests the potentially threatening power of the gaze. The keys, then, may have functioned as a protective screen that tamed and moderated the gaze of the painting. The London key, as well as many other of the keys that Barker made for his urban paintings, represented both the painted image and space where the spectator stands in circle of observation. In so doing, the keys would have helped the spectator maintain the boundaries between the inside and outside that kept the subject and the world from being confused. According to Lacan, without the screen for the image, the subject would be blinded by the gaze, or touched by the real. 2 6 Thus, even as the gaze may trap the subject, the subject may tame the gaze.27 The keys offered the spectator a representation that they could assume some control over as they used it to guide them through the space of the image. With the aid of the key, they could negotiate with the gaze of the all-encompassing painting from a position of relative agency. The type of anxiety that visitors might have experienced with regard to the gaze in the panorama paintings had to do with the confusion over real space and illusionistic space. In this new visual form the boundaries between subject and object were challenged to a degree never before experienced. The 192 keys, therefore, may have been introduced to help spectators to negotiate the struggle they experienced with regard to this newly configured, powerful gaze. Armed with the London key, in which the space of the image did not intrude on their personal space, and in which the place where he or she stood at the centre of the painting was clearly marked, the subject could maintain the all-important separation between the observer and the observed. Narrative and naval battles City views arid battle scenes were regularly shown together in the two circles of observation of the Panorama rotunda. When Barker first began to produce his panorama keys, the difference between the evocation of space and time in the city keys, like the views of London and Constantinople, and the battle keys, like Lord Howe's Naval Victory, and Admiral Cornwallis' Engagement, was striking. The view of London key, for example, depended more on the evocation of space to depict the scene, whereas the naval battle keys depended more on time to communicate several moments during the battle. This was accomplished by depicting different strategic maps along with an image of the battle, which enabled a narrative sequence to be established in which to make visiting the painting more exciting. The reliance of the battle keys on time more than space may also stem from the fact that naval battles were mobile, leaving no lasting trace of their violence on the surface of the sea. As we shall see, the keys also constructed stirring national narratives about the battles they pictured to strengthen the possibility that they would be remembered. Eventually, however, the 193 strategic maps were eliminated from these keys, and a single representation of the battle occupying the perimeter of a central circle was adopted. For example, in his advertisement for the view, Lord Howe's Naval Victory; the First of June, 1794 (fig. 15), exhibited in the lower circle from June 2, 1795 to Apri l 2, 1796, alongside the view of London in the upper circle, Barker claimed that his painted vista provided "an exact Representation of every Ship in the British and French Fleets, as they appeared at One o'Clock, P.M. on the First of June, 1794." 2 8 He also declared that "Observers may suppose themselves on the open Sea, in the centre of both Fleets, and so near the Queen Charlotte as to afford an advantageous view of one of the finest Ships in the Navy." 2 9 While the painting depicted this precise time, the key provided information on two different moments during the battle—9 am and 1 pm on the first of June—thus differing from the view of London key by representing two space/time conjunctions instead of one. The two distinct moments of the battle shown on the key are separated by two concentric circles. The position of the British and French fleets at nine a.m. is shown by means of a naval strategy map in the inner circle. In contrast, the positions of the ships at the end of the battle, at one p.m. the same day, are represented in the outer circle by means of a topographic or profile view in which the ships recede in size according to their distance from the centre of the key. Each type of representation provided a different kind of information to aid the viewer in visualising the action. 194 To further assist the observer in conceptualising this battle, the key combines several different kinds of graphic signs and systems. A n index lists the ships' names, guns and commanders, and symbols are used to indicate which French ships were taken (t), and which ships got away (*). Unlike the panorama painting that masks its materiality behind a three-dimensional illusion, then, the key calls attention to itself as a representation. Reading the key requires that the viewer decipher the meanings of the signs and symbols so that they could reconstruct the sequence of events leading up to and including the panorama's representation of the final battle scene. The complexity of the key requires observers to decipher the signs and pictures in order to reconstruct the space-time sequence of what took place between the two moments depicted on the key. A comparison is useful here. In Philippe de Loutherbourg's painting of the same battle, the Glorious First of June of 1795 (fig. 16), the painting's rectangular frame limits the scope of the view to approximately sixty degrees. The viewpoint is from the deck of one of the British battleships, and depicts the moment that the French were defeated. Unlike the panorama, this type of image could not show the positions of all of the ships on both French and British sides, nor was it accompanied by a key which allowed its spectators to follow and assess Lord Howe's naval strategy. The panorama and its key's far fuller visual account of the battle would have been much more effective in encouraging spectators to appreciate the shrewdness and tactical brilliance of the British naval officers. By studying the change in the positions of the two fleets, indicated by the symbols on the key, the audience 195 could vicariously follow the sequence of ship movements that led up to the moment of victory depicted in the painting. The panorama not only displayed the moment of victory on a grand scale, it was combined with a key that showed spectators exactly how the battle was won. Yet, unlike conventional battle paintings, such as de Loutherbourg's First of June, taken from the viewpoint of the deck of a British battleship, the panorama and key both picture the scene in a manner which places the viewer at the centre of two fleets that are attacking each other rather than on one side or the other. Thus, the panorama gave spectators the opportunity to see the action from both sides, to take up a viewing position on the platform that allowed them to see the action from the side of the enemy. As a consequence, the image and text on Barker's keys clarified for spectators which ship was which, and which side they were expected to support.3 0 The depiction of different moments in time witnessed in the key to the Lord Howe's Naval Victory; the First of June, 1794, was later incorporated into the structure of the two-tiered Panorama rotunda, within which two battle scenes were linked together by a sensational narrative sequence. Admiral Cornwallis' Engagement (fig. 17), exhibited in the upper circle of the Panorama from March 1796 to November 26, 1796, was later joined to Lord Bridport's Engagement (fig. 18) in the lower circle, which was exhibited from May 13, 1796 to May 1797. Barker described the first scene, Admiral Cornwallis' Engagement, as the "prelude" to Lord Bridport's Engagement (the battle that took place six days later), and announced that it would be soon followed by that "sequel." Shown together two months after the first 196 scene opened, the panorama of Lord Bridport's Engagement made an explicit connection between the upper and lower spaces of the panorama. This was a significant formal innovation in which the two paintings, exhibited together for five months, constructed a narrative flow that began in the upper painting and ended in the lower painting. (Barker's two views of Constantinople exhibited in 1801, addressed in Chapter 4, would employ a similar strategy.) While the two panoramas exhibited two different moments during the protracted battle, the two keys together provided information on seven moments during the battle. By filling in some of the gaps in the narrative constructed by the two panoramas, the keys drew the viewers into the exciting national narrative more thoroughly, and presumably, encouraged those who had seen the first view to return, or, depending on the date, buy another ticket to see the sequel in the lower circle to find out how the story ends. In addition to information about the two fleets on the key for Admiral Cornwallis' Engagement, Barker added a complicated narrative of the battle sequence laid out in the four circular strategic maps on the key. Barker's narrative highlights the unwavering unity of purpose and courage of the British navy. Although the British fleet were far outnumbered, when the French attempted to cut off the British ship the Mars, the "gallant Admiral determined that they should destroy A L L or N O N E of his ships." Because the admiral had the gout he had himself placed in a chair on the quarter deck where he resolved to fight to the end. After a short skirmish, the whole French Fleet sheered off to reposition themselves, whereupon the British 197 "Tars" celebrated their reprieve by singing Rule Britannia. When the French next came upon the British fleet, the Bellerophon was not in a good position, since she could not fire without damaging her own ships; but, as the text reads, "when the Signal was made to Engage, her brave Crew voluntarily gave the Admiral 3 Cheers for his undaunted Determination—The Admiral dropped a Tear of joyful Exultation, and threw up his crutches in the Air." In this text the will to fight to the death is joined with a joyful rendition of a national anthem as well as an unquestionable sign of camaraderie among the ranks—the men's cheers for a respected admiral. As Benedict Anderson has noted, such songs, sung at timely moments, create an experience of simultaneity, of unisonance.3 1 Singing Rule Britannia, as well as shouting "Hip hip hurray" three times as a group, provide occasions for what Anderson describes as the "echoed physical realization of the imagined community," 3 2 upon which notions of nation are based. Barker presumably expected his audience to identify with the sentimental stereotypes of the British navy presented in this narrative. The stirring story of the battle that was won after the staging of a brilliant deception of the French admiral, was another means—besides that of incorporating a central space for the viewer on the key—by which this image attempted to draw the spectator into the action of the scene as actively engaged participants rather than emotionally detached observers. Barker adopted a different method in which to convince the public of the accuracy of his battle scenes in the key to the view of Lord Nelson's Attack of Copenhagen (fig. 19), exhibited from May 1802 to Apri l 1803. This 198 battle was fought after Napoleon's failed Egyptian mission and these aggressive foreign policies led Austria and Prussia, Naples and Portugal to form an alliance with Britain against France. 3 3 In response, in 1801 Napoleon succeeded in encouraging Russia, Sweden, and Denmark to renew the Armed Neutrality of 1780 against the exercise of Britain's maritime rights.3 4 Apparently Britain's interpretation of her "maritime rights" was offensive even to her allies.3 5 Nevertheless, despite the Armed Neutrality, Nelson bombarded the Danish fleet in front of the city of Copenhagen. On the key for the Battle of Copenhagen the two lines are equally divided into the "Danish Line of defence" and the "British Line of Attack." The new warfare technology developed by the British is registered on the key above and beside of Lord Nelson's ship, Elephant, with the names, "Zebra Bomb," "Discovery Bomb" and "Explosion Bomb." In the foreground on the British side is a barge with a flag of truce, which is being taken to the Danish side with a letter from Lord Nelson. The middle of the key contains a record of the letters exchanged between Lord Nelson and General Linholm, the representative of the Prince Royal of Denmark, during the negotiations for a truce. They disclose that Lord Nelson sent a flag of truce in order to stop the battle, to which the response was to "ask the particular Object of sending the Flag of Truce." Lord Nelson surprisingly and diplomatically replied, as the key documents, that his object was "Humanity" and that "he will ever esteem it the greatest Victory he ever gained, if this Flag of Truce may be the happy forerunner of a lasting and happy Union between my most Gracious Sovereign and his Majesty the King of Denmark." Nelson was 199 moved to stop the fighting by his horror at the high number of casualties borne by both sides. The Danes were trapped in the harbour, and could make no escape.36 In this key greater attention has been paid to the illusion of depth and to the recording of detail. The Danish ships are shown in the process of burning and sinking, while the British ships still stand. The key offers a significantly more detailed picture of the action than another image of the attack which depicts the outcome of Nelson's strategic plan from a map-like overview (fig. 20). In focusing on the issue of humanity at stake in the negotiations of the truce, this key attempts to justify the Battle of Copenhagen as a necessary prelude to peace. In addition to these diplomatic letters which were printed on the key, Barker printed a letter from Lord Nelson at the bottom of the key. Barker invited Lord Nelson to inspect his painting of the battle of Copenhagen before it opened for exhibition, and received the following letter that he then reproduced on the key itself: Merton, May 19, 1802 Sir, I have acceded to your request, and seen the Picture which you intend to exhibit of the Battle of Copenhagen: and, making due allowance for the alteration of the positions of many of the ships, in the space of one hour and a half, which Time I consider the Picture to embrace, I have no scruple in saying, that I consider it the most correct Picture of any Event I have ever seen: and I believe Captain Foley and the Hon. Col. Stewart, who have examined the picture with me, are of the same opinion. I am Sir, Your most obedient Servant, Nelson and Bronte 200 Thus Nelson, as a prominent historical actor present at the scene that Barker has painted, and as a national hero, endorsed the picture in the strongest possible terms in spite of the fact that the artist had made "due allowance" for altering the positions of the ship during the time of the battle. Barker's artistic liberties involved the reorganization of the scene, a condensation of the events that took place over an hour and a half into one moment. Despite this, it is deemed "correct" by the best living authority on the subject. The reprinting of Nelson's letter addressed to Robert Barker at the Panorama elevated the representation of the battle to a reliable historical account. Further, publishing Nelson's exchange of letters with the Danish King can be seen as an attempt by the Panorama proprietor to consolidate spectators as a community behind the actions and values promoted by this national hero during this battle. The letters in which Nelson expresses his willingness to stop the carnage as soon as it became apparent that the battle was won, and apparently sooner than the enemy was willing to surrender, were included to underscore 'British' virtues of humanity, compassion and honour. City Space and Sea Space As this thesis has noted, a close relationship can be observed between the subjects chosen for representation in the panorama, and the armed conflict that broke out during the French Revolutionary Wars (1793-1802) and the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815). Approximately one third of the 201 images on display were battles scenes, and even the choice of urban views depended on Britain's political manoeuvrings. In the first decade of the Panorama at Leicester Square's existence, the keys' cityscapes and naval battle scenes represented space and time in very different ways. In the urban views, such as London, Constantinople, and L a Valetta, the emphasis was on a kind of touristic 'visiting' of major sites. In the scenes of naval engagements the importance was on narratives showing the different stages of the battle and the strategies used by British admirals to defeat the enemy. By 1802, however, the city keys and the battles keys adopted a similar form of graphic design which depicts a single moment in time. The Battle of Copenhagen and the View of Constantinople from the tower of Leander (fig. 21) were exhibited together in the two exhibition circles of the Panorama in 1802, and their respective keys display many resemblances. For example, they are both circular; contain the information "Panorama, Leicester Square" and the name and place of the printer; include an index to the sites marked out in the view; indicate the subject of the other view on exhibit in the panorama; show some illusion of depth but not much; and provide information for the viewer at the centre. The Battle of Trafalgar key of 1806 (fig. 22), was the last instance in which H.A. Barker included a strategic map on the battle keys. He apparently reverted to the strategic map on this occasion because Nelson was renowned for his naval strategy of breaking through the lines of the French fleet (a strategy that is clearly indicated on this key) rather than practising the traditional method of facing 202 the enemy ship to ship by forming an opposing line. 3 7 Henceforth, however, he reduced their representation to one moment of the battle. A comparison of two keys from 1810 representing important sites during the war with France—a view of L a Valetta, the capital of Malta, a small island in the centre of the Mediterranean that was an important naval base and centre for trade with the east, and the battle of Flushing, in Holland, between Napoleon and the British—demonstrates the adoption of one design format for all of the keys, regardless of their subject matter. The key for A Grand View of La Valetta, the capital of Malta (fig. 23), and the key of the View of Flushing During the Siege (fig. 24), both show a marked increase in the amount of detail and the degree of illusionism. By this date, the production of the print had shifted from woodcut to engraving (the name of the professional engraver, "Lane Sc.," appears on both), and the keys adopted a standard size (10 1/2 x 8") and paper quality. Both keys make an attempt to recreate the visual phenomenon of the panorama's subject on a two-dimensional surface. Straining against the restrictions of the flat page, these keys try to represent both the three-dimensional illusionistic depth of each of the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree urban vistas and the central platform where the viewer stands. The effect of this increase in spatial depth is the creation of a globe-like space—one where the elevated position of the viewer permits an overview of rooftops and the surrounding countryside to the horizon line. In this high and central position, the viewer is placed in visual command of Britain's most celebrated victories. 203 In its upper and lower circles of observation, the Panorama continually incorporated two types of space, the space of war and the space of the city, in a manner that celebrated them as equally important pillars in the formation of the modern British state. In representing the space of war together with Britain's wealthiest cities and spas, and eventually, the foreign cities most vital to Britain's political and economic advancement, the panorama brought together two spheres normally kept separate both in social life and in historical accounts. The connection between wars and cities was implicit in the way that the two subjects were coupled within the space of the Panorama rotunda. This formal connection was made explicit in the many keys published after 1801 that mentioned the subject of the view in the other circle. Nevertheless, the connection between the two types of views was never explained by the keys or pamphlets on the views. In fact the individual keys depict their circular images as worlds unto themselves. Even those keys that include a textual explanation of the scene do not refer to anything outside of the picture. No other issues are brought to bear on the image. Instead the battles are shown as isolated operations or exercises, like games. Outside of the broad issue of national honour, the discussion that appears on the keys avoids the topic of why they were fought, and what they had to do with the urban vistas. Such avoidance of the political and economic reasons for the war against France and its allies suggests that the proprietor did not conceive of his enterprise as a space for contentious debate, and that he assumed that his audiences supported the war. 204 In his work on the history of space, Henri Lefebvre maintains that the links between the space of cities and battles are historically and geographically specific. In his formulation, violence and the market were central to the formation of the modern state that begins to appear in the seventeenth century. Lefebvre asserts that the relations of power and economics could thereafter no longer be separated.3 8 The phenomenon of war became the "rich and thickly populated space that incubated capitalism," as Spain, England, Holland and France competed with each other in the conquest of continents.3 9 While Lefebvre considers European history over a long time span, his analysis nonetheless pertains to the wars between Britain and France between 1793 and 1802, and 1803 and 1815. Britain and France's far-ranging expeditions and wars depended on material resources mobilized by particular aims and fantasies.40 The Panorama united the state's global ambitions to fantasies and myths surrounding the geographical areas selected for depiction. The panorama paintings and keys drew the viewer's attention to other parts of the world, and they did so in a way that encouraged her or his support for Britain's naval engagements, since by winning the battles depicted in the Panorama, Britain's wealth and power could continue to grow. Lefebvre argues that historians have tended to unfairly characterise war as an evil and destructive force, in contrast to peaceful and positive economic productivity. He writes that this "ignores the role of violence in capitalist accumulation and the part played by war and armies as productive 205 forces in their own right." 4 1 Lefebvre describes the actual relation between wars and cities in the following way: What did war produce? The answer is: Western Europe — the space of history, of accumulation, of investment, and the basis of the imperialism by means of which the economic sphere would eventually come into its own. Violence is in fact the very lifeblood of this space, of this strange body. A violence sometimes latent, or preparing to explode; sometimes unleashed, and directed now against itself, now against the world; and a violence everywhere glorified in triumphal arches (Roman in origin), gates, squares, and prospects.42 Barker's panorama paintings were gigantic prospects of urban space and the distant spaces of war. They existed as precise examples of the way in which the British were encouraged to recognize themselves in images. The panorama paintings, as representations of space, consisted of what Lefebvre describes as conceived spaces, born of mathematical knowledge and logic, and were thus related to the instrumental space of the social engineers and urban planners of the modern state.4 3 The violence enacted within the state as a framework of power depends upon the representation of a unified and homogeneous society. According to David Hume, a unified society is brought about when the interests of the few are imposed on the many in such a way that these interests become indistinguishable from society's interests.4 4 Lefebvre insists that the framework through which these interests are imposed is a spatial one. Each new form of state has its own way of partitioning space and classifying discourses about space and about objects and people in space. In other words, each state uses space to serve its purposes.4 5 During the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Panorama's representations 206 of city space and the space of battle fed into the construction of a British national identity. The pairing of city space and sea space within the Panorama allowed viewers a rare opportunity to examine the way that these spaces were partitioned, classified, and represented as the antipodes of the British power structure. But the underlying violence that Lefebvre claims links the space of the city and that of the battle is not denied in the panorama representations. In fact, in this regard the panorama as a visual form functions differently from other spaces in the city. In one exceptional example of Barker's panorama keys, city space and sea space are united on the two sides of the print. At the beginning of 1797, Lord Bridport's victory was exhibited with a View of Brightlemstone (an older but still-used alternative name for Brighton, fig. 25), a coastal spa south of London. Brighton's textual key with its variety of different typefaces (apparently the only one of its kind made for Barker's Panorama) appears on the reverse of the key for Lord Bridport's Engagement. This new double-sided print, with the battle scene on one side, and the text describing an elegant scene of the Prince's Pavilion at the watering place on the other, allowed the viewer to connect the two images without seeing both of them at the same time. The two-sided print was a way to reduce costs, but was also a means of suturing the spa town with the battle. The two subject's formal arrangement on the print conveys the idea that the naval violence and urban wealth are spatially and historically linked, and that they are like two sides of the same coin. 207 In the battle prints, victory is used as a means of bonding Britons as a social body against a repeatedly vanquished enemy. With their circular images of the horizon, these keys were something concrete which viewers could use to help them understand the purpose of war. Through the use of a complex combination of diagrams, pictures, geographical maps, narrative accounts and indexes, the keys to the panorama were not only an important attempt to orient viewers to specific sites within the panorama's illusionistic space; they also took viewers on a visual journey through spatial and textual compositions which announced Britain's ascending authority as a world power. In doing so, they contributed to the notion that became prevalent in the nineteenth century that Britain was the "top nation" and could bend other nations to its will. 4 6 The panorama keys transformed the violence of war into a visual puzzle that engaged the mind and emotions of the viewer, even as they guided the viewer through the space of the panorama image. By setting battles scenes alongside the British cities that such battles helped produce, in the Panorama Rotunda violence was presented not as the opposite of urban life but as a necessary and inevitable spur to economic growth. In the early nineteenth century, many people still believed in the mercantilist economic theory that held that trade was a zero-sum game and that naval war was the only way for Britain to acquire an optimal balance of trade. 4 7 With its one shilling admission price, the Panorama excluded the poor and the many labourers in the country and city that earned less than a shilling for a full day's work. As a relatively expensive entertainment, the 208 Panorama appealed to the interests of the middling classes or higher. Linda Coney's research on attitudes in Britain toward mass mobilization during the wars with France demonstrates that despite the barrage of nationalist fervour displayed in the press and in Parliament, a large number of middle-class men bought themselves out of the militia. 4 8 In contrast, the labouring classes were more willing to fight for their country. This suggests that the panorama's jingoistic battle scenes were intended for the amusement of an audience that was socially and politically protected from direct involvement in the risks of war. 4 9 Inscribing the Keys Instances of how the keys were used are found in the examples that bear manuscript additions. Each of the inscribed keys demonstrates how an individual undermined the dictates of the representation by altering its appearance and attaching different meanings to its design. De Certeau has observed that representation during the modern period has tended towards the erasure of the diversity of spatial stories. He asserts that the map slowly disengaged itself from the itineraries that were the condition of its possibility.5 0 Whereas once maps involved the body on tours through collated information taken from different sources, they gradually colonized space by eliminating "little by little" all traces of "the practices that produce it." 5 1 Yet the keys, as graphic representations, were intimately involved with the spatial practice of negotiating the space of the panorama image. Hence, as representational forms they were not always the antithesis of spatial 209 practice because they were used to link the spectator to new actions.52 The circular key design facilitated such an imaginative appropriation because this format not only allowed a space for the viewer at the centre of the image, but also provided ample blank space at the margins of the image for its readers to write on. Evidence of the viewer's keen engagement with the story and image is provided by an inscribed key of Lord Bridport's Engagement (fig. 26). In the lower right corner of this key, the text states that "The Alexander, Le Formidable, and Le Tigre were the only Ships Taken," and, on this copy of the key, the owner has blacked out the hulls of the three ships, as well as a couple more, and has drawn flags of surrender onto the Le Tigre, which as the text on the key explains "at about half past eight...struck her Colours, and the battle ended." The viewer had decided to 'correct' the image by adding the flags of surrender, and by indicating with black ink the ships that were taken, as well as blackening a few others that were hit during the battle. The embellishment on the key for the View of Paris, of 1803, from the Seine demonstrates how the keys were used to orient oneself with regard to another view in the lower circle of observation (fig. 27). The inscription locates the viewpoint of the second view of Paris, taken from the roof of the Louvre, with the following note: "10 Here the lower panorama." After exhibiting two views of Constantinople in 1801, Barker displayed two views of Paris together from August 15, 1803 to May 30, 1804. The view in the large circle was taken from the Seine, and the other was taken between the 210 Pont Neuf and the Louvre. Number 10 on the index indicates the location from which the other view of Paris was taken. The importance of finding the point of view of the other painting of Paris, shown in the upper circle of observation, has been discussed at length with regard to the two Views of Constantinople in Chapter Four. This inscription testifies to a viewer using one of the panorama keys in just this way. A highly critical inscription appears on the key for the View of Edinburgh from the Calton Hill (fig. 28), produced in 1805 (eighteen years after the first exhibition of the panorama of Edinburgh in Edinburgh discussed in Chapter One), 5 3 Immediately below the printed text, "Panorama, Leicester Square" marginalia written in an early nineteenth century hand reads, "See the word Panorama." This is evidently written as a reminder to look this unfamiliar word up in the dictionary. At the bottom left of the key the same hand has written: "I think this Panorama does no give a good Idea of Edinburgh, from what I can remember of It." The person who wrote this remark clearly was invested in how Edinburgh was represented, and was moved to challenge the panorama key's mode of representation with her or his own knowledge and experience of this place. The inscription indicates that the viewer's memory of space that he or she once perceived by walking through its streets, conflicted with the representation of space as it was conceived and represented by the designer of the key. That the panorama presents an unfamiliar composition of Edinburgh to the viewer indicates that the city has many different views, or faces, and ways of experiencing them. 211 The inscriptions written on the keys by their owners indicate that regardless of the intentions of the panorama proprietor, and of the restrictions imposed on the viewer by the panorama and its keys and guidebooks, viewers felt free to alter and embellish these single-sheet, take-home prints as they saw fit. Viewers inscribed these prints with ideas and pictures that mattered enough to them to be written down. Louis Marin has argued that the moment that one looks at the abstract space of a map, and projects a journey, even if it is an imaginary one, a narrative begins: "With all these proximities and distances, space 'awakens' to narrative, and loci open up to various practices which change and transform them through variations, and transgression."5 4 While contemporary maps during this period shared the mathematical uniformity of the perspective view, they did not position the viewer with respect to the image. Two-dimensional map projections offered spectators a roving, vertical view from nowhere.5 5 The keys, by contrast, were more engaging visual forms because they drew spectators into their increasingly three-dimensional designs, at the same time that they placed viewers at their centres. They provided spectators with an internal point of view, but one which could be rotated at will. The keys, functioning as map-like guides to paintings comprised of multiple of viewpoints fanning out like points of a star, mediated the production of meanings that were for the most part silent and invisible. But the inscriptions found on these keys provide insight into the ways in which people used these humble prints to clarify issues regarding space and time. They allowed people to see representations of distant lands and seas 212 (possibly for the first time), and to get their bearings on their own relation to the nature and extent of the British presence in the world. Framing the Subject: The Key as Miniature Panorama What I have been arguing in the preceding pages is that the gaps that existed from the beginning between the keys and the panorama painting, and between the city space and naval battle keys were slowly being closed up in the design of the panorama keys. However, in 1818 a striking change was introduced with the key for the battle scene Lord Exmouth's Attack upon Algiers, exhibited in the large circle from May 11, 1818 to March 1919 (fig. 29). This battle was fought on August 27, 1816, to combat piracy and to free hundreds of Christian European slaves.56 The same change was introduced to the city View of Lausanne and the Lake of Geneva (fig. 30) exhibited from December 27, 1819 to November 19, 1825. The keys display two horizontal registers, one above the other. Unlike the horizontal but bifurcated diagram of the key for the View of the Grand Fleet at Spithead with which I began this chapter, these keys do not require that the viewer turn the print around to identify and read specific features. Instead, each horizontal register offers spectators a miniature version of what they saw in the panorama painting within a rectangular frame. The design of these keys allows the space it represents to be 'read' like a text from left to right with each image representing one half of the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panorama painting. In this fundamental shift in key design, the emphasis of these representations was suddenly no longer placed on the panorama as a unique 213 medium, but on the subject matter of the images that this medium exhibited. This was a complete inversion of the role the keys had played with respect to the panorama painting over the previous twenty-five years. As we have seen, the circular keys provided different kinds of information to spectators that would not be possible in a perspective view. In terms of use, the new perspectival key design lent itself less to thinking about space as a process that included the viewer than it did to representing space as a container for objects. Moreover, such a mode of representation also greatly diminished the difference between how sea space and city space was represented in the keys. With the change introduced in the key for Attack upon Algiers, and that of the View of Lausanne, viewers of this image were no longer at liberty to position themselves anywhere within the circle of the panorama. In fact the position of the viewer is no longer in question since the perspective of the rectangular registers positioned all viewers in the same way. As I discussed in Chapter Three, perspective as a representational construction attempts to position the subject directly in front of specific focal points in the representation. The horizontal space of the key for the Attack upon Algiers relies on a framed geometrical illusion of space that denies the surface of the paper, at the same time as it located the viewer in a fixed position outside the space of the image. With this change in format, the gap that existed between the two visual forms for twenty-five years, the gap that invited error, inscriptions, and a conceptualisation of space that was fragmented in a way that served to engage the viewer's imagination, was significantly altered. 214 While these newly formatted perspectival keys allowed spectators a better idea, and a clearer memento of what the panorama painting looked like, they no longer depicted their central position in relation to the image. With this shift in priorities, the viewer was ousted from the space of the key, and could no longer presume to be the subject of the view. In the design of the keys, a perspectival narrative mode had taken over. The message of the painting was henceforth more important than the medium (the cylindrical panorama with its central viewing platform) which carried it. The narrative that accompanied the new key, Description of Lord Exmouth's Attack upon Algiers, was composed by James Jennings, a writer that H.A. Barker hired to write about this painting. By referring to the scene as a very recent and vivid drama of reality which was due a greater degree of passion and approbation than events long past or fictional accounts of heroism, Jennings makes every effort to whip up the readers' emotions: If amidst the fables and fictions of the dark ages, those chivalrous exploits awaken our sympathy, excite our feelings, and command our approbation—how much more, and in how much greater a degree, ought our feelings and sympathies to be awakened, and our admiration to be arrested, at a story, around which no historical or mythological halo hovers; around which no fiction is thrown; around which no lapse of time has lent its aid to veil the crudities of the pencil; where the L IVING SCENE , the vivid drama of REALITY, has just passed before us, in all the lineaments and strongest tints of Truth;—in all the glory of genuine Heroism;—in all the justice attendant upon the most favoured Virtue crowned with Victory1?57 The excitement that the author hoped to incite in spectators of this panorama appealed to a universalist logic that contributed to both the discourses and practices of British imperialism. The nationalist tone this pamphlet adopts is far stronger than that of the texts written by Robert and 215 Henry Aston Barker. The tone thus complements the new perspectival design of the keys, as both promote a singular narrative of nationhood. The formal change to the keys that occurred in 1818 did away with the circular form that contradicted the panorama paintings' measurable and scaled geometrical representation, that encouraged viewers to turn the key around, and left space on the page for personal and idiosyncratic usages. In comparison to these later framed horizontal keys, the earlier round keys were not as rule-bound: their space was curved, and perspective not used except to give rough indications of size and locations in the foreground, middle-ground or distance. Significantly, because these images were not bound to one scale of measurement, it was not a distance that could be measured as in a perspective view. Because of this the structures singled out for representation in the round keys could be enlarged and made to stand out in relation to what surrounded them. Without the restriction of a single scale of measurement it was possible to ignore whole parts of the image, leave blanks in it, and to stretch or expand the interesting and denser parts of the view along the circular image, reducing the size of the sections with fewer notable sites. The circular keys reminded the viewer of the gap between representation and reality—as the inscription on the key to the View of Edinburgh that challenges the image testifies. As we have seen, these keys often show two modalities of viewing at once, the aerial view and the topographic view, neither of which is adequate nor exists without textual support. Hence, their status as representations is not denied but emphasized, unlike the illusionistic paintings in the Panorama. 216 My point here is that the introduction of the horizontally formatted key can be seen as part of the broader process of standardization and modernization taking place in images and texts during the nineteenth century. 5 8 With this shift to a two-tiered, horizontal format, these keys represented space and time as measurable and homogeneous absolutes rather than as relational and dialectical processes. The consequences of the change that the Battle of Algiers and the View of Lausanne keys introduced can be understood as part of a broader imposition of a spatial and temporal order within British society. It was during this period that London became the centre of a world-economy, around which other powers and peripheral regions organized themselves hierarchically. 5 9 The panorama images reflected London's rising status on the world stage, and the change in the keys described here was one of the ways in which social and political consensus regarding the actions of Britain as the world's greatest sea power was sought among its spectators. The new design of the keys attempted to ensure that everyone who looked at the panorama image would transcend their differences, and see and understand its meanings in the same way. The gradual restriction of the spatial and temporal relations of the keys from 1793 to 1819 led to representations of sequential time and homogeneous space.60 This chapter has been a history of the gradual standardization of a particular visual form that set out to govern and constrain viewers inside the panorama painting. From the start, the work of looking demanded by the keys was of a different order to that required by the panorama painting. 217 Whereas the keys manifested that they were representations, the panorama went to great lengths to hide that fact, even though it was not successful. The changes in the keys that I have called attention to in this chapter have included the change from an extremely abstract, schematic and two dimensional diagram form to a highly illusionistic representation of space; from an image made up of letterpress pieces to an image produced by a professional engraver; from a variety of sizes and weights of paper to a standard size and type of paper, from horizontal to elliptical to circular, to a final, framed horizontal format; from the viewer positioned at the inside of the image, to the centre of the Panorama structure, to a position outside of the key; and from a high contrast between the representation of space in the city and the battles keys to the use of a similar graphic design for both themes. My point is that the changes witnessed in the design of the keys eventually led to a design format that attempted to arrest the spectator's movement inside the panorama (movement that would encourage the scanning of the image) so that, presumably, a viewer could enter the space of the illusion and absorb the painting's ideological message more completely. These changes were rooted in shifting conceptions of time and space that were taking shape during this period as the British nation was actively redefining and redrawing the boundaries of its rapidly expanding global empire, at the same time as it engaged in producing national statistical accounts, and conducting comprehensive surveys of its national territory. 6 1 As one contemporary writer commented, "What between steam-boats and 218 panoramic exhibitions, we are every day not only informed of, but actually brought into contact with remote objects."62 By offering spectators mathematically precise illusions of proximity to increasingly distant places and events, Robert and H.A. Barker's panoramas shrank the world as they enlarged Britain's place in it. What the evolution of the keys reveals is that the panorama painting was a form of representation that viewers interacted with in a dynamic way. Their central viewing position made it impossible to simply look at the painting from a safe and fixed distance outside of the image, and from 1793 to 1818 the panorama keys reflected this fact. In addition to opening up new ways of thinking about the painted images, they helped the viewer deal with, cope with, tame, and navigate the overwhelming form of the panorama medium. The chief paradox of the panorama exhibition was that, as a new visual technology, it at once made viewers feel more powerful and more vulnerable than before. However, in the framed perspective keys that appeared later, the focus was on drawing the viewer into the subject matter of the scene, and on making its didactic message manifest. The successive changes in the keys during this period ultimately culminate in representations of space and time that aspire to homogeneity and the universal. In so doing, they attempted to arrest the movement of the viewer before specific perspectival focal points in the images of either city views or naval battles that could be absorbed in a singular, and unified way. By adopting representations of space-time that could be 'read' more than they 219 could be 'practised,' these changes supported the constitution of a passive and objective viewer at the expense of an active, subjective one. 1 See chart in Appendix A for details of the views. Dates are based on newspaper advertisements, and the list of exhibitions provided in Scott B. Wilcox, "The Panorama and Related Exhibitions in London," (M. Litt thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1976), Appendix C: "A Chronololgy of Panoramas Exhibited at the Leicester Square and Strand Panoramas," pp. 254-263. 2 David Harvey argues that "Space and time are neither absolute nor external to processes but are contingent with them. There are multiple spaces and times (and space-times) implicated in different physical, biological, and social processes. The latter all produce, to use Lefebvre's terminology, their own forms of space and time. Processes do not operate in but actively produce space and time and in doing so define distinctive scales for their development." Justice, Nature and the Geography of Difference (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), p. 53. 3 Armand Mattelart suggests that this new phase began in 1794, with the invention of the semaphore telegraph, a sign language that permitted efficient communication between ships. See Networking the World, 1794-2000, trans. Liz Carey-Libbrecht and James A. Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2000), p. 3. 4 Paradoxically, the huge oil paintings exhibited in the Panorama had far shorter life spans than the so called ephemeral printed keys. 5 Jacques Lacan, "The Split between the Eye and the Gaze," in The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-Analysis (London: Penguin Books, 1979), pp. 67-78. 6 Lacan, Four Fundamental, p. 106. 7 Harvey, Justice, p. 243. 8 Harvey, Justice, p. 240. 9 Harvey, Justice, p. 244. 1 0 Harvey, Justice, p. 267. 1 1 Queen Elizabeth performed the last review of the British Royal Navy that took place in 1977 from the deck of the Royal Yacht Britannia. The event was axed this year because Britain no longer has enough ships. International Express, Canadian edition, 20 February 2001, pp. 1, 5. 1 2 This is according to a letter to me from Jeremy Smith, Print Room, Guildhall Library, London, 17 May, 2000. 1 3 The key enabled viewers to locate themselves at the centre of the image with their finger, or with an 'x.' It functioned like a map upon which one could indicate "I am (or was) here." 1 4 Boris Uspensky, "Structural Isomorphism of Verbal and Visual Art," Poetics 5 (1972), p. 12. 1 5 An eighth century Assyrian relief on Sennacherib's Palace in Nineveh depicts a landscape in which the hills and trees on either side of a river are pictured as if they lay flat: on one side of the river the tops of the hills and trees point upwards, while those on the opposite side point downwards. Uspensky, "Structural," pp. 12-13. 1 6 Uspensky, "Structural," p. 12. 220 1 7 A comparison of the structural elements in the key and the cross-section of the Panorama rotunda suggests that it was produced for the second version of the view of London. This one was painted in oil and exhibited from March 28, 1795 to February 13, 1796, in the upper circle of the Panorama. See Appendix A. 1 8 Edgerton, cited in Harvey, "Space and Time," p. 240. 1 9 This engraving is found in Voyage dans les Alpes 1 (1776), cited in Stephan Oettermann, The Panorama: A History of a Mass Medium, trans. Deborah Lucas Schneider (New York: Zone Books, 1997), pp. 34-35. 2 0 Oettermann, The Panorama, p. 35. 2 1 Oettermann suggests that people in the late eighteenth century suddenly sought "the edge, a tingle of excitement," in their leisure pursuits, and that "the experience of taking something to the limit was their reason for climbing the towers and mountain peaks and visiting their surrogate, the panorama," The Panorama, p. 12. 2 2 Lacan, Four Fundamental, p. 106. 2 3 Lacan, Four Fundamental, pp. 72, 75. 2 4 Lacan, Four Fundamental, p. 77. 2 5 Hal Foster, The Return of the Real (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1996), p. 139. 2 6 Foster, Return, p. 140. 2 7 Lacan, Four Fundamental, p. 109. 28 Times (London), 18 June 1795, p. 1. 29 Times (London), 18 June 1795, p. 1. 3 0 Certainly, it is important to acknowledge, given that the image allows the spectator to position themselves with regard to both sides of the combat, the possibility that some people who saw the painting may have supported France, or at least have considered the issues on both sides. 3 1 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (London and New York: Verso, 1991), p. 145. 3 2 Anderson, Imagined Communities, p. 145. 3 3 Muriel Chamberlain, 'Pax Britannica'?: British Foreign Policy, 1789-1914 (London and New York: Longman, 1988), p. 6. 3 4 Chamberlain, Pax Britannica, p. 6. 3 5 Chamberlain, Pax Britannica, p. 7. 3 6 Dudley Pope, Life in Nelson's Navy (London: Chatham Publishing, 1981), p. 3 7 For an account of Nelson's naval strategy, see Dudley Pope, Life in Nelson's Navy (London: Chatham Publishing, 1981),pp. 31-32 and passim. 3 8 Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1996), p. 276. 3 9 Lefebvre, Production, p. 276. 4 0 Lefebvre, Production, p. 276. 4 1 Lefebvre, Production, p. 277. 4 2 Lefebvre, Production, p. 277. 4 3 Lefebvre, Production, p. 279. 4 4 David Hume, Treatise on Human Nature, Ernest C. Mossner, ed. (London: Penguin Books, 1985), pp. 585-624. 4 5 Lefebvre, Production, p. 281. 4 6 Chamberlain, Pax Britannica, p. 6. 4 7 Kathleen Wilson, "Empire of Virtue: The Imperial Project and Hanoverian Culture, c. 1720-1785," in Lawrence Stone, ed., An Imperial State at War: Britain from 1689 to 1815 (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 151. 221 4 8 Linda Colley, "The Reach of the State, the Appeal of the Nation: Mass arming and political culture in the Napoleonic Wars," in Lawrence Stone, ed. An Imperial State at War: Britain from 1689 to 1815 (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 183. 4 9 Colley, "The Reach of the State," p. 183. 5 0 De Certeau, Everyday Life, P. 120. 5 1 De Certeau, Everyday Life, p. 120. 5 2 De Certeau, Everyday Life, pp. 117 and 97; and Joseph Monteyne, Printed Spaces in Restoration London, 1660-1685 (Ph.D. thesis, Vancouver, University of British Columbia, 2000), p. 53. 5 3 This version of the View of Edinburgh was exhibited in the upper circle of the Panorama from June 8, 1804 to January 5, 1807. See Appendix A. 5 4 Louis Marin, "The Frontiers of Knowledge," in Utopias and the Millennium, eds. Krishan Kumar and Stephen Bann (London: Reaktion Books, 1993), p. 13 5 5 Svetlana Alpers, The Art of Describing: Dutch Art in the Seventeenth Century (London: Penguin Books, 1983), p. 138. 5 6 James Jennings, Description of Lord Exmouth's Attack upon Algiers, Painted by Henry Aston Barker (London: Adlard, 1818), p. 6. "Jennings, Attack upon Algiers, P. 3. 5 8 It was in the early nineteenth century that British typography became modernized and standardized. This change first becomes evident in H.A. Barker's reference book, A Short Account of the View of Lisbon (London: Adlard, 1812). 5 9 Mattelart, Networking the World, p. 11. 6 0 Walter Benjamin, "Theses on the Philosophy of History," Illuminations (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), p. 263. 61A Statistical Account of the Population and Cultivation, Produce and Consumption, of England and Wales, compiled from the Accounts laid before the House of Commons, Benjamin Pitts Capper, ed. (London: T. Geoghogan, 1801); D. Withrington and I. R. Grant, eds., The Statistical Account of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1983). 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