"Thunders of White Silence":Racialized Ways of Seeing and "Hiram Powers' Greek Slave" Tricia Lootens (bio) Victorian poetry, visuality, race, racialization: where better to explore these topics' convergence than in this special issue of Victorian Poetry? Now, as students of Victorian studies are increasingly challenging disciplinary traditions of refusing to "see" race, perhaps especially where poetry is concerned,1 visuality's relations to poetics seem poised to emerge as invaluable resources for moving beyond long-standing, if often tacit, training in evasive, exclusionary reading.2 Here, in turning towards those relations, I'll be tracing a sharp, idiosyncratic line through an increasingly rich, expansive constellation of critical and poetic writings and disciplinary fields.3 "What is 'Victorian poetry'? How do we know? And who are "we"?: blunt as these questions are, they carry a gathering urgency. They drive conversations at once speculative, structural, passionately theoretical—and, in all these things, distinctly everyday.4 Here, I'd like to approach such conversations from odd angles, in part through a series of sharply defined invitational gestures. Each plays out through some form of materializing visualization; all have been inspired by Kyla Wazana Tompkins's recent questions to readers of PMLA. "How promiscuously sensual can we be in relation to the literary?" Tompkins asks: "What is the place of literature in the forming, schooling, and historical disciplining of the senses? Here I would call for a deeply disciplinary interdisciplinarity or even antidisciplinarity, by which I mean a close listening to our multiple objects of interest as they travel across history, across borders, and between media."5 "More, more, more;" Tompkins goes on to urge: "can we not make and have more than we do now?" (p. 422). ________ Intense, intimate, and still largely unexplored, connections between antislavery poetics and Victorian visual culture strike straight to the heart of nineteenth-century textuality.6 Consider, for example, one instance in shockingly plain [End Page 493] view. No Victorian image of the Middle Passage now draws more attention than J. M. W. Turner's 1840 Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and Dying—Typhon Coming On.7 Still, what have Victorian literary scholars made of Turner's poetry? Very little, despite Turner's self-presentation, through the official 1840 Royal Academy Exhibition catalogue, as a poet-painter. Catalogue in hand, first-time viewers would have approached Turner's notorious image literally bearing these printed lines: Aloft all hands, strike the top-masts and belay;Yon angry setting sun and fierce-edged clouds Declare the Typhon's coming. Before it sweep your decks, throw overboard The dead and dying—ne'er heed their chains. Hope, Hope, fallacious Hope! Where is thy market now? MS. Fallacies of Hope.8 Outside Victorian poetic studies, this strange, disturbing catalog entry has hardly been secret. By 1964, the art historian Jerrold Ziff could already refer to it as showcasing "perhaps Turner's most famous (or infamous?) lines of poetry" (p. 341); in 2020, Laura Brace, a specialist in history, politics, and international diplomatic relations, was still setting Turner's verse, astutely analyzed, at the center of an ambitious revisiting of interdisciplinary controversies around Turner's painting.9 The pattern is an old one: repeatedly, scholars in other fields, not least art history, have led the way in addressing questions of race and enslavement in Victorian poetry. Where might literary specialists move in following their leads? In part, perhaps, toward the very origins of British poetry's relations to abolitionist iconography. Among art historians, after all, two works by George Morland, Execrable Human Traffick (1788) and European Ship Wrecked on the Coast of Africa (1788–1790), now stand as the "first explicitly anti-slavery paintings in Western art."10 Among literary specialists, these same paintings have yet to claim their place as precedents for antislavery iconography's deep historical links to verse. Still, they might. For however clearly the painter's friend William Collins may have overstated in attributing inspiration for Morland's painted scenes to his own poem The Slave Trade, by the time Morland's images came into print, they did so on pages shaped by excerpts from Collins's verse (Gamer, pp. 306–308). To read Turner in light of...
Read full abstract