We feature each fortnight Nicholas Reid's reviews and comments on new and recent books.
“RITES OF PASSAGE” by William Golding (First published in 1980)
When some readers hear of William Golding’s Rites of Passage they immediately think that it is part of a trilogy, as it was followed by Close Quarters (1987) and Fire Down Below (1998). The second and third novels continue the story of early-19th-century English people emigrating to Australia. Only when the three were published did Golding say it was a trilogy and only then were the three novels presented together in one fat book called To the Ends of the Earth. Golding, an officer in the Royal Navy in the Second World War, was always interested in the sea and it would seem that novels about the sea were just what he would deal with. But the fact is that Golding didn’t originally mean to write a trilogy. As he says in the foreword to To the Ends of the Earth, he had no intention of writing two more novels after he had written Rites of Passage. Only later did he consider putting them together as one. So I am here reviewing Rites of Passage, the novel as it originally was. The term “rites of passage” usually refers to going through ageing and problems as one grows up; but the title Rites of Passage has an obvious pun. The passengers have paid their passage and there are literal rites pertaining, in this case, to religion or rather the objection and mockery of religion.
The novel is written in the first-person by Edmond Talbot, a young man who has aristocratic connections and who is on his way to take up a position in the government in Australia. His narrative is given to us by the journal which he is writing for – he says – to amuse his wealthy grandfather. We are soon made alert to the fact that Edmond Talbot is often supercilious or flippant, regards himself as important and is appalled by many of the people who surround him on the ship – not so much as the sailors but as the lower classes. Social class is clearly one of the main points Golding is making in this novel. Yet despite his snobbery, Talbot is always able to present himself politely to his inferiors. He seems a perfect gentleman.
One of the first things that nauseates Talbot as he boards the ship is the stench and foul quarters which he is given… but it is no worse than where anybody else is bedded. At first Talbot also has to come to terms with severe sea-sickness. This is a novel built on historical reality, not on the romanticism about sailing ships in the 19th century that often plagues romantic novels with jolly jack-tars, their daring and similar fantasies. The context of those braving the sea are aware of France, the recent French Revolution and occasional skirmishes in the distance…. And some radical ideas have come from France.
In many respects, Rites of Passage is about a “ship of fools” - characters with their own ambitions, deceptions and delusions. Much of the first part of the novel has Talbot meeting people and their oddities. There is, for example, Mr. Prettiman, a rabid atheist who detests religion, his obviously adopted radical ideas, and wants to shoot an albatross to prove that it is superstitious to believe that shooting an albatross will bring bad luck. There is Miss Granham, a stern governess angered by the frivolity of the mess [i.e. where they are fed] and tending to agree with Prettiman. There is a drunkard who sees himself as a great painter and knows a little about medicine, but he is useless when he is needed [the ship has no doctor]. There is a discreetly-run brothel near to Talbot’s quarters… and one of the women available is a fading belle whom Talbot gets to call “Zenobia”; and whom at one point he more-or-less rapes… with her permission. And then of course there are the crew. Talbot gets to know a very junior officer Tommy Taylor, who shows Talbot how the sails are set and other things of which the ship is made. Among other senior officers are Deverel, a very aggressive man in many ways; and Summers, who is painfully aware that he has risen from the lower ranks and who often almost challenges Talbot about his almost-lordly status. Because of his aristocratic status, Talbot is accepted into the senior officers’ mess and later is welcomed into the captain’s quarters.
But the most important characters in the novel are Talbot himself, the ship’s captain, Captain Anderson, and the parson Reverend Robert James Colley. Indeed they take over most of the second half of the novel.
Captain Anderson is repeatedly annoyed by Colley. The parson first violates the rule that only the captain and his officers can come to the bridge, the upmost deck. Anderson allows Talbot to come onto the bridge because Talbot is an aristocrat… but Colley is a mere parson. In a conversation, Anderson reminds Talbot that the great Captain Cook never had a parson on any of his many long voyages, because they were bad luck; and he himself says that parsons tend to believe they are more important than they are. Anderson bursts with rage when, without permission, Colley comes to the bridge. After some brusque conversation, and much anger, Anderson gives Colley permission to have a short religious service in one of the messes. But clearly Anderson now sees Colley as his enemy. Colley is irritating and endlessly tries to button-hole and talk to the captain.
The Reverend Robert James Colley is an incredibly naïve person. He is awkward, young and immature. He takes it for granted that people would respect him because he wears the right garments that a parson should wear and he believes he has the right to spread the gospel. But most passengers are indifferent and the sailors and crew are outright hostile.
Comes the crisis. Colley is roughly dealt with when there is the traditional “crossing the line” [crossing the equator] ceremony. Colley is made a fool of, ducked under water again and again, dragged around and loudly laughed at by a large audience, sailors and emigrants. He is completely humiliated. Colley later tries to appeal to Captain Anderson. The captain seem to make mildly soothing words, but much worse is to come. Later, a group of sailors grab Colley, force him to down bottle after bottle until he is roaring drunk, and then push him onto the a deck where many people are watching. Colley staggers around, only half dressed, shouting out incoherent things about how he loves everyone and finally he pisses in public. He almost falls over before he is taken to his berth…. where he pines, refuses to come out from his room even though Talbot and a senior officer try to reason with him, is overcome with shame, sleeps, excretes until his bedsheets are foul…and eventually dies. And by this time Talbot’s sense of right and wrong, his consciousness, has grown. He is no longer the haughty young man he was.
But there is a problem, never clearly resolved. Did the captain incite the crew to treat Colley the way they did? And did the sailors not only publicly humiliate Colley, but did they also “misuse” him physically… meaning in effect, buggering him [also known as sodomy], violating his anus.? This is of course feasible because buggery was [and in some places still is] common with sailors world-wide. [If you are annoyed by this comment, please remember it was Winston Churchill who described the old 19th century navy as “rum, sodomy and lash”.]
At this point in the novel we suddenly have a new narrator. Talbot finds papers that Colley had written – his own journal - and it takes up 50 pages of the text. Colley is writing to his chaste sister back in England. He is amazed by the wonders of nature in the voyage and sees them as the wonders of God. As Talbot reads, we hear Colley’s naivete. He really does not understand how to deal with people. He thinks the best of people who in fact despise him. He believes that Talbot is a good Christian… but we know that this is only because Talbot has been polite to him … and maybe also because Colley assumes that aristocrats and their offspring must be honourable people. Golding is once again drawing our attention to the power of class. The epitome of Colley’s naivete comes when he believes that Talbot is going through a crisis of faith like the “enthusiastic” Wesleyans, because he hears Talbot groaning and sighing in the cabin near to his… when Talbot is in fact groaning and sighing because he is having sex with a prostitute.
There has to be an enquiry as a passenger has died. It is held in the officers’ mess, Captain Anderson in charge with Talbot part of the enquiry. One by one, some sailors and some officers are called in to be asked if Colley was killed by rough handling. For a while most of the enquiry is ready to claim that Colley had died of a “fever”… but buggery was mentioned clearly by Captain Anderson after one sailor, who was called in, almost suggested that buggery was involved in the humiliation of Colley. But when questioned, he says that the captain should look to the officers. The implication was obvious … so Anderson promptly rules and writes in his official papers that Colley died of a “fever”. Pragmatism over-rules the truth. The captain reads the given words when Colley is buried-at-sea. Talbot is left to know that injustice has been done, but he does some more thinking. And he hears the jargon of the sailors, as they speak, with laughter, of “giving a chew”. Could it be that drunken Colley had, in his stupor, “chewed” a sailor - in other words, practised fellatio. And as he thinks of Colley, Talbot has learnt that a man can die of shame. In some ways, Talbot has grown up to messy reality. He sits down and writes a letter for Colley’s sister, telling her what a noble and good her brother was. Lies come in many versions, don’t they?
Golding is, once again, dealing with the flaws – or sins - of human beings. In this case, there is the tyranny of class, the injustice of the law, the barbarism of behaviour, and how naivete can be destructive.
All of this is synopsis. But I have some troubles with this novel, even if Golding’s story is a good one. My problem is with the first-person narrative. Golding has scrupulously written the text in Regency language, which means that Talbot writes in a patois that is often alien to most modern readers… and to show what an intelligent man he is, Talbot often throws in the odd Greek or Latin word to show how erudite he is. Further, there is the improbability of what he writes to his grandfather in his journal. Would he really write to his grandfather about his sexual events with whores? Maybe he would, after all as he wrote that he would tell his grandfather everything. Maybe aristos might have written to each other that way. But the first-person narrative falls apart when Golding has to switch to Colley’s narrative, as if Golding could not create one narrator who had the perception to understand what and how his characters thought. Still, I would at least say that this is an interesting novel, and certainly one that gives us an honest account of what life was like in sailing ships two-hundred years ago – mainly uncomfortable and often sordid.
Footnote: On my shelves I have a copy of C.K. Stead’s Shelf Life, his collection of some of the reviews he has written over the years. He wrote about William Golding’s Rites of Passage in 2014, which was some years after Golding had won his Nobel Prize. On the whole, Stead was very positive about Rites of Passage, welcoming Golding’s honesty about how life was on ships 200 years ago. But he ended his review by telling us that Golding wasn’t really worthy of a Nobel prize. Chacun a son gout I guess.
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