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Ford in Toulon / Toulon in Ford

Max Saunders
p. 25-57

Résumés

Lorsque Ford Madox Ford et Stella Bowen, sa compagne au cours des années 1920, visitèrent Toulon, à la fin de l’année 1925, cette dernière déclara qu’elle avait « eu un véritable coup de foudre pour [cette ville]. » Ford éprouva le même sentiment et pensait que le lieu était propice à l’écriture. Il effectua plusieurs autres séjours dans cette ville au cours des années suivantes et loua ensuite une partie de la « Villa Paul », en 1930, en compagnie de Janice Biala. Cette villa demeura leur principale résidence en France jusqu’à la fin de l’année 1936 : à cause de la Grande Dépression, le couple n’avait plus les moyens de s’en occuper.

Cet article se penche sur la vie de Ford à Toulon, en compagnie de Bowen et de leur fille, Julie, puis avec Biala. Leurs impressions respectives sur la région seront analysées, mais la plus grande partie sera consacrée au débat suivant : quelle est l’importance de Toulon et de ses environs dans l’écriture de Ford ? Deux de ses romans, The Rash Act (1933) et Henry for Hugh (1934), ont précisément pour cadre cette région et livrent des descriptions de lieux remarquables, qu’il est facile d’identifier. Le but de cette recherche est de mesurer l’influence de Toulon sur Ford au cours des deux dernières décennies de sa vie et comment la région a, non seulement, contribué à changer ses opinions sur la France, mais également sur lui-même. La conclusion relate les recherches menées pour déterminer l’endroit précis de la « Villa Paul ».

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Texte intégral

Toulon was Ford’s main home for five and a half years, from 1931-1936; his base in his beloved Provence, where he most wanted to be, despite the attractions of Paris and New York. Why Toulon? Exploring that question will also involve telling the broader story of Ford in Toulon; exploring what we know about his Toulon life and what else there might be still to find out. Those are biographer’s questions. But answering them will lead us to the literary question of what Ford does with Toulon in his writing: the question of Toulon in Ford.

Why Toulon? The easy answer to why Ford brought Janice Biala, his new love, to Toulon in 1931, is because he’d been before. As far as we know, Ford’s first visit to Toulon was just over five years earlier, at the end of 1925. He and his partner for the decade after the war, Stella Bowen, had just moved into their new Montparnasse studio, at 84 rue Notre-Dame des Champs. They had hardly any furniture. They had a young daughter. They had builders in, working around them. It was Christmas, but it can’t have felt very merry. It was perhaps because they were living in a building site that they had a Christmas tea party at their favourite local restaurant, at which Ford dressed up as Father Christmas. By New Year’s they were in Toulon, at the Grand Hôtel Victoria, where they stayed till late March.

  • 1 Stella Bowen, Drawn from Life. London: Virago, 1984, pp. 134-35.
  • 2 Ibid., pp.136-37.
  • 3 Ford to Duckworth, 9 March 1926, in Letters of Ford Madox Ford, ed. Richard Ludwig (Princeton: Prin (...)

No More Parades, the second volume of the Parade’s End series, was selling well; the franc had just been devalued, so they could just afford it. Their friends Juan Gris, the Spanish painter, and his wife Josette were there. Josette found them rooms at the Victoria. Bowen 'fell in love with Toulon at first sight', she said.1 She found it picturesque – the harbour, the ‘tall, shabby and colourful old houses’ along the quay, the bustling markets, and the mountains in the background, all appealed her painter’s eyes. Its amenities were aimed at sailors rather than tourists. Josette Gris told them as they arrived: 'Il y a cinq cinémas et deux dancings. Ca fait juste la semaine!'2 'Why don't you come to Toulon', Ford suggested to his English publisher Gerald Duckworth: ‘It's delightful here now and wonderfully gay with the Navy – and cheap because the Navy has not got any money’.3

  • 4 Gris to D.-H. Kahnweiler, 4 January 1926: Letters of Juan Gris, collected by Daniel-Henry Kahnweile (...)

1It must have been a carefree break from Paris; not only from the builders, and the northern cold; but from the fraught aftermath of Ford’s brief affair with Jean Rhys. Gris was impressed by Ford when they celebrated New Year’s Eve together: ‘He absorbs a terrifying quantity of alcohol. I never thought one could drink so much’.4 Perhaps he had more reason than usual.

Toulon wasn’t fashionable, like Cap Ferrat, where Ford and Stella had lived first when they left Britain three years earlier. But it had enough artists and writers to provide the kind of creative milieu Ford thrived in. Francis Carco was there – the author of the sensational novel Perversité which Ford would get Rhys to translate, but was flabbergasted to find had been published with his name as the translator. The writer and art critic Georges Duthuit, later known for his ‘Three Dialogues’ with Samuel Beckett, was another friend. Duthuit was the son in law of Matisse, who was duly brought to meet Ford and Bowen. The painters Louis Latapie and Othon Friesz were also part of their group. One day someone surprised Bowen in the hotel restaurant by saying: ‘Oh, you are Mrs. Ford, aren’t you? I've just seen Ford and we are going to dine together’. It was H. G. Wells, motoring through Toulon with his lover Odette Keun.

  • 5 Stella Bowen, Drawn from Life, p. 142.

Friesz found Bowen a studio below his in a quayside warehouse, 3 bis Quai du Parti, at ten pounds a year. Ford too found Toulon conducive to work. He finished A Mirror to France in January – a book in which he returned to the genre in which he’d first found success with his trilogy on England and the English (1905-1907), writing impressionistically about the capital city, the country, and the culture and psychology of the nation. He began A Man Could Stand Up --, the third volume of Parade’s End, and was ‘getting on pretty well with [his] novel’ in the spring. Provence had always been his spiritual home; it was rapidly becoming Bowen’s too. They began looking for a house in the countryside to buy, and made an offer ‘for an old five-roomed house on a hill with a shady terrassed garden. Luckily for our finances the offer was refused’, she wrote.5

So they wanted to live in Toulon, or at least to have a permanent base there, in 1926, and nearly did. No More Parades had gone through five reprints in the USA. They had a little more money than usual, and life must have been cheaper than in Paris, especially for heating bills. But they didn’t stay in Toulon. They travelled to Italy to visit Pound in Rapallo. Then they went back to Paris in the spring. That’s where Ford’s literary world was. And he had been invited to lecture in the US in the autumn.

Nevertheless, they didn’t give up that studio. They still had it in 1928 when they lent it to the Joyces. Stella kept it on even after they separated that year; and would lend it to Ford. Later, when Ford brought his new partner Janice Biala to Toulon in January 1931, that’s where they stayed, in Stella's old studio at 3 quai du Parti. But that was while they were looking for somewhere to live, and within two months they had moved to the Villa Paul, their home in Toulon for the next five and a half years.

2Back in 1927, after Ford had returned to Europe from that lecturing trip in the US, it was February; and after a couple of weeks in Paris he and Bowen went South again, away from that Northern cold. But they didn’t stay in Stella’s studio. They returned to the Grand Hôtel Victoria. Its letterhead boasted ‘Tous les conforts’ – ‘all the creature comforts’. 3 bis, Quai du Partis certainly didn’t have tous les conforts.

  • 6 Marjorie Worthington, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook, (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1 (...)

I tried to keep things running smoothly, while knowing that in the barn studio some rather nice girl had been persuaded to let herself be hung by a chain from the ceiling until she was so tired she hardly knew what she was doing or saying, and might possibly ‘go through that wall’ into a psychedelic state. . . .There were new methods of inflicting pain or fatigue that Willie had read about or created in his queer mind and that he tried to tell me about if I let him.6

  • 7 See Ford’s review of Worthington’s Mannhattan Solo, New York Herald Tribune Books (14 February 1937 (...)
  • 8 Stella Bowen, op. cit., p. 15.

This is not from Perversité ; and it isn’t about Ford and Bowen either, but someone else Stella lent her Toulon studio to: the writer William Seabrook. It is written by his partner Marjorie Worthington, another novelist (and one admired by Ford) in her memoir, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook, which was published in 1966, some forty years later.7 The lapse of time probably accounts for some of the lapses of fact. Having just said she and Seabrook met Ford in 1926, she goes on to say for example that: ‘Ford’s ex-wife was Stella Bowen, an Englishwoman and a painter, and one of the finest women I’ve ever met’.8 Fordians tend to agree that Stella was a fine human being; but she was Australian, and never married to Ford, though he would refer to her as ‘Mrs. Ford’.

  • 9 Marjorie Worthington, op. cit., p. 5.

Worthington says: ‘Stella also had a studio in the South of France that she used very rarely and often lent to Ford’ – which dates the period she’s describing as after their separation in 1928. She continues: ‘When Willie told her he was looking for a place in the Midi, Stella Bowen, with typical generosity, offered us hers’.9 She then gets the address part-wrong: ‘2 bis’ instead of ‘3 bis’, Quai du Parti. Toulon. Var. France, adding: ‘That was our address for seven years, more or less. The core of my life, really. The best and the worst years, and surely the most exciting’ (p. 12).

3Seabrook may or may not have acted out his sadistic fantasies in Stella’s studio. (The nice girl was hanging from a chain in another, later, studio.) But for all her unreliability, Worthington gives the best description we have of it:

The studio was on the second floor of a warehouse on the Toulon waterfront. Beneath us, on the ground floor, was a furniture maker who filled the atmosphere with the smell of glue and wood shavings from eight in the morning until five-thirty every weekday afternoon. Then he would lock up and leave the whole empty building to us. The top floor belonged to Othon Friesz [. . .] who as far as I knew was never in residence. However, we would refer to him when people wanted to know how we managed to live in such an unlikely place.

As she goes into more detail it is clear that whatever made it exciting was not tous les conforts. There was no electricity, gas, or running water. The simple furniture, Worthington says, was as Stella had left it:

There was a large double couch [. . .] and a long refectory table made of planks on trestles on the other side of the room [. . .] against one wall was a pot-bellied stove in which we burned fagots of wood during the cold damp months of December and January.

  • 10 Marjorie Worthington, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 19 (...)

At the lower end was a dry sink with a bowl, a pitcher, and a slop jar. For many years this was the only bathroom we had. I would go down twice a day with an enormous tin pitcher to a sort of fountain that trickled out of the wall of one of the buildings that lined the Quai du Parti.10

She enjoyed queueing for water with their neighbours; less so, emptying the slop jar in the harbour, which they did after dark, as they saw the locals doing.

Their improvised exploding cooker seems to have been part of the strange world of Willie Seabrook; he had it from one of his African expeditions. So it appears that Ford and Stella had nothing to cook on there, unless they could heat a pot of water on the pot-bellied stove. So presumably when Ford or their friends were there, they must have eaten out most of the time. It was fairly Spartan; a place to go and work during the day, but not equipped for living in, at least not for extended periods. Worthington doesn’t mention a bed. But it had, as Ford’s and Stella’s homes and studios tended to have, an exhilarating view. There was a large window looking out over the Rade, the large basin where much of the French navy was anchored.

So Ford fell in love with Toulon when he saw it in 1925 with Stella; and had a pied-à-terre there of one sort or another for more than a whole decade. During which time he wrote two volumes of Parade’s End; his best volumes of reminiscences; his book on Provence; and the pair of novels The Rash Act and Henry for Hugh (judged his best fiction of the 1930s). Most of the best of his post-war work, that is, was written while he was spending time in Toulon. Toulon was important for Ford.

  • 11 See Saunders, Ford Madox Ford: A Dual Life, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 583, (...)
  • 12 Bowen to Bradley, 18 March 1926: reproduced with kind permission of the Harry Ransom Center, Univer (...)

But why Toulon? Why was that where they headed in 1925? Perhaps Juan and Josette Gris’s recommendation was enough. Or had Ford been there earlier still? It is just possible he may have visited in 1913 with Violet Hunt, when they went abroad from February to May to avoid the scandal after the loss of the court case when Ford’s wife Elsie Hueffer sued the Throne newspaper for referring to Violet Hunt as ‘Mrs Ford Madox Hueffer’. On that 1913 trip Ford and Hunt toured all over Provence then went to Corsica. Even if they did not visit Toulon then, Ford might have read about it in, or seen it on maps. The records we have, though, are letters or cards from grander places like Nice, Avignon or Arles.11 The sort of places Hunt would have expected to stay perhaps, rather than an unfashionable naval base. Maybe it wasn’t somewhere Ford thought his daughters would appreciate a postcard from. But in the 20s it was the sort of place Stella Bowen sent postcards of, as for example this one to William Bradley, Ford’s agent and their friend, from Toulon in March 1926:12

Photo: Max Saunders.

  • 13 D. D. Harvey’s bibliography, Ford Madox Ford (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962), gives a (...)

Ford’s book A Mirror to France was published that April,13 with a painting by Bowen that could have been inspired by many provincial squares with ochre and pastel painted buildings and market stalls. But Toulon was where she and Ford had been for the previous three months.

Photo: Blackwells Rare Books.

But, even if Ford had been in Toulon as early as 1913, there is another factor. He already knew about Toulon even before then. He had already written about it before he ever went there. The earliest reference to Toulon in his books comes in just about the unlikeliest of places: the novel The New Humpty-Dumpty that Ford published in 1912 under the pseudonym ‘Daniel Chaucer’. Part of its satirical plot concerns the protagonist Sergius Mihailovitch Macdonald’s quixotic plan to mastermind a counter-revolution to restore the King of Galizia. In the era of gunboat diplomacy, Macdonald devises a scam that will give him the use of a couple of battleships for a few days:

Sergius Mihailovitch extended a soothing hand towards the Prince.

“Listen, Highness,” he said. “I am talking of Russian cruisers that are going to Shanghai. On the way there is a port called Toulon. Now, supposing that these two Russian cruisers discover off the port of Toulon that their boilers excellent boilers are defective. The two Russian crusiers would put into the port of Toulon.”

The Duke said: “There is nothing new about that. It is always happening.”

“When the two Russian cruisers arrive in Toulon it is discovered that their boilers are utterly useless. [. . . .] Being discovered to be entirely useless, the vessels will be sold to a syndicate.”

  • 14 Ford, The New Humpty-Dumpty (London: John Lane, 1912), pp. 55-56. Toulon is also mentioned on p. 29 (...)

“As for me,” Macdonald said, “I will undertake that within a few days the war-ships shall be returned to the government of H[is].I[mperial].M[ajesty]. The syndicate having a conscience will have discovered that the war-ships are much more efficient than was supposed.”14

This isn’t the writing of someone who is imagining going and settling in Toulon some day. It’s not a romantic place in the way Carcassonne or Beaucaire or Avignon were for him. So the question remains: why Toulon? What was its appeal to Ford before he visited it?

Before 1912, there were two likely sources for Ford’s knowledge about Toulon. As a reader of history, he would have known of it as an important naval port, which it had been since Charles VIII of France built a military port at its harbour in order to support his campaign in Italy. Its position gave it strategic naval significance for control of the Mediterranean, especially during the Napoleonic period. After the French Revolution, the city became a royalist stronghold, and welcomed the arrival of the British fleet. In the resulting siege, the Republican army expelled the British, with the young Napoleon Bonaparte leading the French artillery. Toulon’s history as a royalist and pro-British enclave may have appealed.

It also meant Toulon was a feature of British literature of the nineteenth century – especially its nautical fiction. Ford wrote appreciatively of Captain Frederick Marryat. In one of Marryat’s best-known novels, Peter Simple, the narrator is sent to a prison in Toulon. If Ford had also read about Marryat, he’d have come across references to the port in his biography; as here:

  • 15 William R. O’Byrne, A Naval Biographical Dictionary - Volume 2 (London: John Murray, 1849), p. 727. (...)

Not less than five times has Capt. Marryat generously hazarded his existence for the preservation of others. The first instance of the kind occurred in 1807, when he jumped from the Impérieuse and saved a midshipman, Mr. Henry Cobbett; the second in 1810, in the course of which year, belonging at the time to the Centaur he effected the rescue of a man named Thomas Moubray, who had fallen from the main-yard, while cruizing off Toulon[.]15

Not a pleasure cruise, that; not just because of falling off the main-yard, but because they would have been patrolling on the lookout for the French navy, trying to catch them venturing out from their fortress.

Toulon, in short, is relevant to Ford’s historical sense of Englishness, and of the relations between England and France; the stuff of childhood stories of adventure at sea, full of Napoleonic intrigue. It would provide the background for his Napoleonic novel, A Little Less than Gods (1928) written a couple of years after visiting Toulon in 1925-1926.

4But there is another reason why Toulon would have meant something to Ford, and perhaps the most important factor of all: Joseph Conrad – the man with whom Ford collaborated on three books from 1898-1908, and knew intimately during that decade. There are two ways in which Ford would have associated Toulon with Conrad.

The machinations in The New Humpty-Dumpty are from Conrad’s sea life rather than Ford’s experience. It’s Conrad who would have known that Toulon was the kind of base large destroyers could be serviced.

5Ford’s memoir, Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance (1924) makes much of Marryat’s significance to Conrad. Toulon features here too, in Ford’s satirical sketch of Marryat’s moral universe:

  • 16 Ford Madox Ford, Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance, pp. 66-67. The book includes as an appendix (...)

The idea was this: In the first place came the sea, the sea not as a bitter element, but as an instrument by means of which the frigates battled against inefficiency, strange customs, the eating of frogs, wooden shoes. Upon the sea were only the English – and the French; the English as the representatives of that Almighty which holds the sea in the hollow of His hand, the English, blond, hardy, cunning, vigilant, each one six foot and over, jolly, in the exact image of their Maker, cordial. The French, the subordinates, representatives of Satan, perpetually driven off the sea to hide behind the moles of Toulon or of Cherbourg....16

  • 17 Owen Knowles, A Conrad Chronology (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989), p. 5.

But Conrad didn’t just talk to Ford about novels about Toulon. He too had been there, in his seafaring youth. He had arrived in Marseille in 1874, ‘to be looked after by Wiktor Chodźko, a Polish seaman living near Toulon’.17 When Ford writes about Conrad’s cultural allegiances, Toulon figures as one of the sites of his acculturation; his reading of the French literature which would inspire him to venture a new life as a writer:

  • 18 Joseph Conrad, pp. 70-71. Ford knew perfectly well Conrad hadn’t been born in France, and later mak (...)

The most English of the English, Conrad was the most South French of the South French. He was born in Beaucaire, beside the Rhone; read Marryatt in the shadow of the castle of the good king Réné, Daudet on the Cannebière of Marseilles, Gautier in the tufts of lavender and rosemary of the little forests between Marseilles and Toulon, Maupassant on the French torpedo boats on which he served and Flaubert on the French flagship, Ville d'Ompteda.18

  • 19 Saunders, A Dual Life, vol. 1, pp. 163, 244.
  • 20 The Good Soldier, p. 97.

This evokes Conrad talking to Ford about his time in the South of France (it might have been one of the times Ford took dictation of parts of Conrad’s reminiscences).19 Such associations are probably not enough to account for a romantic idea of Toulon as a place Ford should one day live. (Dowell says of Nancy Rufford: 'I just wanted to marry her as some people want to go to Carcassonne’.20) Ford had many other personal and literary associations with the region, including his father’s, and later, Ezra Pound’s, love of Provence and the Troubadours; and his own admiration for nineteenth-century writers about the Midi, including Daudet and Maupassant. But Toulon’s association with Conrad would have done some of that work for Ford.

  • 21 Knowles, A Conrad Chronology, pp. 114-15.

Ford’s last meetings with Conrad were in early 1924, months before Conrad’s death that August. Three years before, in the spring of 1921, Conrad had revisited Toulon and the area.21 Might Toulon and the Mediterranean have come up in those last conversations – especially given Ford had been living on Cap Ferrat in 1923? But even if it did not, Ford would have known in 1924 that Conrad’s last completed novel, The Rover (1923) is set in Toulon; and Ford would probably have been reading it not long before writing his memoir of Conrad.

In other words, when Ford thought of Toulon, he thought of Conrad. He had just been writing about Conrad the previous year, and mentioning Toulon, when Juan and Josette Gris suggested going there in 1925. He is likely to have felt he had a connection already, going all the way back to his collaboration with Conrad at the turn of the century.

6* * *

7One would expect Toulon to feature more prominently in Ford’s work after 1926; after he’d stayed there, Stella took on the studio, and he kept returning. There are mentions, certainly. But they tend to be passing mentions. New York is not America (1927) includes this curious passage, for example, mentioning Toulon but saying nothing about it:

  • 22 Ford, New York is not America (London: Duckworth, 1927), p. 81.

You see the New Yorker in Lombardy, on the banks of the Rhine, on the shores of the Mediterranean, and, though he have been born in Milan, Coblenz or Toulon, he is marked out from all his fellows and his own people: he is the Americano, or the Amerikaner, l’Américain.22

8Otherwise, there is only the reference in the composition dates at the end of the book:

NEW YORK, 1st Dec., 1926.

TOULON, 9th Apr., 1927.

9Toulon has a greater presence in A Little Less than Gods (1928), as is to be expected given the port’s significance during the Napoleonic era.

  • 23 Ford, A Little Less than Gods (New York: Viking, 1928), p. 112.

Was it then thinkable that the boy should be allowed to go? The yacht might sail straight for Toulon and that same day the news might be in Paris, for the weather was perfectly clear and the telegraph would therefore almost certainly be working.23

10Remember that telegraph. But even here, Toulon is in the background, providing political or historical context. Napoleon is advancing so rapidly during the Hundred Days that:

  • 24 Ibid., p. 114.

[…] Specially beautiful proclamations were meant for the mayors or governors of Antibes, Toulon, Grenoble or Lyons if no printer could be found for them owing to the rapidity of the Emperor's march. So her handwriting would go out attached to the signature, “Napoleon, Emperor of the French!”24

During that advance they come across an old soldier who had probably fallen asleep drunk. They shake him awake:

He spoke at first to the Emperor himself with great boastfulness about what he had said to Jerome and Nicholas and the rest; but when a lanthorn was brought and the light fell on the great hat, the mantle with collar carelessly turned up, and, when that fell back, upon the white intent face, he stiffened very slowly, standing petrified for a long while, and then cried out:

  • 25 Ibid., p. 158.

"The Little Corporal! Death of my life, the Little Corporal!" It became visible that he had only one arm. He had lost the other as far back as the taking of Toulon, when Napoleon had commanded the siege guns and had been only Bonaparte.25

  • 26 Ford to Dreiser, 18 April 1931: Letters, p. 201.

It is not until the 1930s that Toulon really gets into the foreground of Ford’s writing. Which is hardly surprising, since by then he finally had a base there: the Villa Paul, on Cap Brun, which he and Janice Biala had started to rent in 1931. It was to be their sanctuary for the next five years, and Ford was to use it as the model for the Villa Niké in The Rash Act and Henry for Hugh. ‘I am now installed’ , he wrote to their friend Theodore Dreiser, ‘in a spot where I have wanted to be as long as I can remember, and am fairly at ease in sunlight that is only interrupted by the night’.26

The Villa Paul stood high above the sea, towards which there sloped a long garden with fig trees and oranges and a water cistern […] The shutters of its upper windows were always closed. They concealed the domestic life of M. le Commandant and Madame, who lived a dim but passionate existence on the upper floor, sub-letting the rez de chaussée and the garden to Ford and Janice.

  • 27 Ford to Hugh Walpole, 30 Mar. 193[1]: Letters, 193-4, where it is misdated 1930. Bowen, Drawn from (...)

The ground-floor shutters were always open. They had once been painted palest grey, and were folded back against the pinkish stucco walls whose flaking surface discovered patches of a previous periwinkle blue. Through the windows you stepped into two small rooms with rough grey walls and red tile floors. Behind these, on one side was the kitchen, dark and primitive, and on the other a sleeping alcove and cabinet de toilette. The parlour walls were painted with crude but charming bouquets of flowers, which Ford had discovered under a modern wallpaper [. . . .] Before the house was a wide terasse whose comfortable balustrade served as a sideboard for outdoor meals. There was a shady tree and a fountain with goldfish and a great view right across the harbour to Saint Mandrier. 27

  • 28 Ford to T. R. Smith, 14 March 1931: Letters, 199-200 (p. 200).

11This is Stella Bowen’s painterly description, though the first thing she says about the Villa bespeaks the difference between her and Biala: ‘Ford had, of course, acquired a home that was picturesque but entirely without amenities’. It may not have had ‘tous les conforts’; but it did have, of course, ‘one of the most beautiful views in the world’.28 You could see as far as Corsica.

12Bowen had planned to stay in her studio on the harbour, but Ford and Biala were going back to Paris, and he persuaded her that the Villa Paul would be more suitable for her and their daughter Julie. Bowen felt it strange re-entering Ford’s life and his space. Both she and Biala painted the ballustraded terrasse. Bowen’s from indoors – she was there in the winter; Biala’s outdoors, where she and Ford spent most of their time.

Stella Bowen, La Terrasse, 1931.
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

Janice Biala, View from Our Terrace, 1933.
Oil on canvas, 25 1/2 x 21 1/4 in (66 x 55.9 cm),
Collection of the Estate of Janice Biala.
© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala /
Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.

13There are no human figures in the paintings – each has instead an expressively twisted tree standing in as the observer of the view. But Biala’s has the table and two chairs which suggest their occupancy. And she also painted Ford against the balustrade:

Janice Biala, Ford on the Terrace, Cap Brun, c. 1931, a painting by Biala as photographed by the artist. Current location unknown.
© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala /
Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.

14In The Rash Act and its sequel the presentation of Toulon and its environs is still overlaid with Ford’s reading in Marryat and Napoleonic history, and his conversations with Conrad:

  • 29 Ford, The Rash Act (New York: Long and Smith, 1933), pp. 204-05.

The boat had rounded the rocky bluff and opened out the great bay. The ‘port exterior’as they called it. He thought that in English they called it ‘roads.’ ‘The English fleet lay in Toulon Roads.’ The level sea spread before him, between the headland and the mainland.29

  • 30 Scott, Life of Napoleon Buonaparte (New York: Harper, 1827), pp. 282-3 (p. 283).

15Curiously, though, given how closely these books draw on Ford’s life in Toulon, this is the only time it is mentioned by name in The Rash Act. The quotation is perhaps a memory of Walter Scott’s Life of Napoleon Buonaparte, which if Ford hadn’t read in his youth he is likely to have done while planning out A Little Less than Gods. Scott in his account of the siege of Toulon writes of ‘the roads where the English fleet lay’.30

16Nonetheless, the setting of The Rash Act and Henry for Hugh is absolutely the Villa Paul and its environs. The novels are saturated with the views Ford loved, their landmarks, their light and colour. And they are full of explicit references to features of Toulon like the Rade, St Jean du Var (one of the quartiers the city) and the names of the local islands, and St Mandrier.

  • 31 The Rash Act, op. cit., p. 287.

Henry Martin lay looking at the grey Mediterranean. Across the satin water above the balustrade of the terrace were the wooded slopes and white villas of the peninsula of Saint Mandrier. Below his eyes was the exact spot at which he had gone about in the boat. To the left was the open sea, stretching out towards Africa. The woods were dark: the waters of the exterior port light grey: the sky cloudless and without colour. Suddenly the semaphore above the dark woods lit up. It became a candle of white flame. The first rays of the sun had just impinged on it....31

17The ‘semaphore’ is the look-out tower which in Napoleonic times had mechanical arms on top of it to signal to a chain of such towers. It was the system of ‘visual telegraph’ the Revolutionary French used for early warnings of enemy attack.

A semaphore in the nineteenth century.
Photographed in Musée des Arts et Métiers, Paris. Public domain.

Le sémaphore de Cepet - Saint-Mandrier-sur-Mer. Public domain.

18The tower is still there on St Mandrier’s Cap Cepet, its semaphore arms replaced by radio masts used by Toulon’s Harbourmaster.

19Toulon is a continual touchstone in Ford’s books of ‘mental travel’ in the later 1930s, Provence (1935) and Great Trade Route (1937), the statue of the Navigator on the Rade standing as tutelary deity of those books which deal with multi-cultural and maritime history. Unsurprising, then, that the crucial scenes happen when he is out and about. As always in Ford’s books on culture, the mode is reminiscential, and the cultural analysis deeply autobiographical. What we get here is a much fuller evocation of his everyday life in Toulon – even when the everyday suddenly becomes once-in-a-lifetime. One episode, in Great Trade Route, was almost Ford’s last.

Just consider: The other day in the Street of the Merchants, my foot slipped and I fell head and shoulders between the front and hind wheels of a municipal lorry that was going slowly along at my side. I had just been telling the little English girl whose province it was to keep me from being run over — I had just been telling her that I was not very happy about the prospects of this book because amongst other things I knew next to nothing about the development of transatlantic traffic. That was a little lugubrious for the author of a proposed book whose main topic is the transference of the centre of at least material civilization from the Mediterranean to the Northern Atlantic. That young lady had just said:

“You had better buy a book about it on the Quay of Cronstadt. There are plenty of books on the Quay of Cronstadt.” And I was thinking that it was very unlikely that I should find a book about Atlantic shipping lines on that dock that is filled by the tepid tides of the Mediterranean.

... And then I reclined beneath that camion.

I saw suddenly the whitewashed interior of the great chapel on the Mount of Birds — the walls completely covered with votive pictures representing escapes from every kind of vehicle, from ploughs and fours-in-hand to steam-rollers and autobuses. In each case the subject of the picture in the moment of the accident had prayed to St. Christopher who presides over the fortunes of those who travel, or are assailed, by wheels of all kinds. My left shoulder had struck the inner side of the front wheel of that lorry; my right arm in its white duck awaited the gradual approach of the right wheel. The loose fabric of the sleeve was already pinned down by the wheel. At this moment it still bears the imprint of the tyre. I said:

  • 32 Ford, Great Trade Route (London: Allen & Unwin, 1937). pp. 27-28.

“St. Christopher; now’s your chance...” and remain a little hazy about what immediately followed. I must have torn my sleeve from under the wheel, for there is the tear in the sleeve. And obviously the lorry must have stopped dead, for there is no bruise on my arm, nor indeed was there any bruise anywhere.32

20A man could stand up . . . Even accidents and adventures like this are keyed to literature and culture in Ford’s writing. Amongst other things (life, death, children – the ‘little English girl’ is his daughter Julie, travel, religion, painting) this is about books: the books Ford needs to read for the books he needs to write.

Janice Biala, Rade à Toulon [CR 164], 1931, oil on canvas, 29 x 19 11/16 in (61 x 50 cm). Private collection, Paris.
© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala /
Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.

  • 33 Provence, p. 167.

21One of the other great set pieces from these late books on culture and travel comes in Provence, when Ford and his guest Allen Tate, are invited to a rehearsal of a pastorale, acted and sung by ‘the peasants and fishermen of the foothills’ ‘in Latin, Provençal and French’.33 The location is one of the spectacular calanques, or rocky inlets on the coast between Toulon and Marseilles.

Mr Tate did me the honour to accompany me to the rehearsal in the Calanques of the pastorale of which I have already written, he going as poet, not as chef. That rehearsal was accompanied by a Homeric banquet, which, having previously caught the fish for the bouillabaisse, we cooked in immense cauldrons, on the beach, over leaping fires of dead wood from trees and drift wood from the water.

The place was unimaginable unless you had seen it. Try then to figure for yourself blood-red cliffs into which a blue, shining mirror should have introduced itself for miles–a fjord of the Mediterranean, a beach only to be approached in boats, with the dark-green, red trunked stone-and umbrella-pines, the multicoloured boats grouped at the landing, the incredible blue of the sky, the incredible whiteness of the light, the ten-foot flames beneath the cauldrons but pale beneath the sun. And, beneath the surface of the mirror, shoals of vermilion, of ultramarine, of amethyst fishes–and octopuses darting, like closed parasols, through the waving groves of the algae….

  • 34 Ibid., pp. 285-288.

Sixty-one bottles of wine were consumed by sixteen adults and a shoal of children that ran incessantly round the table, made from the bottom boards of the boats. They snatched a bite here, a mouthful of wine there, the banquet lasting four hours…. In the full sunlight, above the scorching rocks and shale, continuous songs and the speeches of the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Kings and the Jews and Saracens and Prussians of 1870. And the chef, obviously a baritone from the Scala at Milan, taking the part of St Joseph and swearing that with his voice he would make every one at the table cry…. And doing it…. And the tenor, a throaty blond-moustached shoe-merchant–but merely a son-in-law from Marseilles, and as such never allowed to get his part listened to…. And half a hundred weight of bouillabaisse.34

22The poetry is the literary equivalent of a bouillabaisse, accommodating an extraordinary variety of characters and periods; and is the model for these vast, multi-ingredient books on culture and pleasure. It is significant, though, that the setting is outside Toulon. It is partly that, as Ford argues in Provence, Toulon’s history separates it from the culture of the region:

  • 35 Provence (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1935), p. 91.

Toulon again has also lost most of her picturesquenesses and will no doubt soon lose the rest of them. But that too does not much matter. Toulon is a port and arsenal of the Nordic rulers of those climes. She arose suddenly in the eighteenth century as a base for galleys and was built by galley-slaves at the orders of the King of France, who was no Provençal. The poor wretches were used in the endless struggle to check the incursions of the Sallee Rovers and the marauders of the Dey of Algiers. So that Toulon is almost more alien to real Provence than is Marseilles.35

23What they have in common, though, is their histories as centres of Mediterranean and global travel and trade, and as cultural melting pots or bouillabaisse pans. And perhaps that, ultimately, was the attraction of Toulon. Just as New York is not America, Toulon is not France; nor is it, quite, Provence. It is in them but not of them: exactly in the position Ford identified with his own point of view, at once inside and outside the systems he represents, whether nation, class, culture, or genre.

24In what he says about Toulon’s unpicturesequeness, he is thinking of the architecture, not the views. But he does find picturesqueness inside the Villa Paul, hidden under the wallpaper:

My house in Toulon has its rooms frescoed, very primitively, by the retired naval quartermaster who built it–himself and his wife, with their own hands, using a cement, said to be of their own manufacture, made from burning oyster-shells according to the Roman tradition and so hard that it will turn any cold chisel. How that may be–as far as the tradition of cement–I do not know–but there the pictures are: scenes of rural life, dovecotes, ponds, fish-stews, swans, wild-fowl, carp, small fish, men rowing boats, men fishing; all under the shadow of the great mountains that are in the Toulon hinterland and all amidst a profusion of leafage and flowers … And all a very charming decoration….

Another room is decorated–I imagine by the wife alone, since the paintings are more traditional and she probably went to an art-school–with bouquets of flowers, only some of which are naïve, alive and charming, and all this having been done about 1890 or so.

  • 36 Ibid.p. 228.

But imagine an English retired naval quartermaster, in the suburbs of Portsmouth, building, along with his lady and with their own hands, a house of Roman cement, tiled with Roman-S shaped tiles … And then frescoing it! … 36

25He wrote about their landlord, M. le Commandant – presumably a subsequent retired naval man – who surprised Ford by his touching respect for poets:

  • 37 Ibid., p. 228. Cf. Ford, It was the Nightingale (London: Heinemann, 1934), p. 158.

the first emotion of my landlord here in Provence when he had that news was to get into his car and drive a hundred and fifty miles to fetch me a root of asphodel. Because all poets must have in their gardens that fabulous herb….37

  • 38 Great Trade Route, p. 222.

26When the final volume of Parade’s End had appeared in 1928, Ford had been at the peak of his success – a best-seller who was also getting superlative reviews. But the reception of his autobiografictional work about the war, No Enemy, published in 1929, was overshadowed by the Wall Street Crash. His sales never recovered during the Depression. As another World War loomed, the age demanded a terser, more hard-bitten, cynical style: Hemingwayese rather than Ford’s loquacious impressionism. He continued to work furiously. His last books were his longest. But he and Biala were desperately poor at times during their Toulon years. Thanks to the Villa Paul’s garden they were able to live relatively self-sufficiently, growing vegetables. It turned out to be a good place to weather the Depression. Great Trade Route records a visit to their friend the wood-carver Wharton Esherick during one of their trips to the US. Ford explains to Esherick how: ‘according to her own statistics Pennsylvania is the district that has felt the Crisis less than any other place in the world’; and then he adds: ‘Except, of course, Toulon’.38

27Despite the duration of Ford’s presence in Toulon, and its significance for his work, his biographers had been unable to locate the Villa Paul. The address Ford used had no street number. It was simply: ‘Villa Paul, Rue de la Calade, Cap Brun, Toulon, Var’. But not only does a villa of that name seem no longer to exist on the Rue de la Calade, but the end of the Rue de la Calade itself no longer seems to exist. The Corniche Général de Gaulle, the big new road cut into the hills along the coast after World War Two, cut the Rue de la Calade in two, it no longer continues on the coastal side of the new road. It wasn’t clear whether the Villa Paul now stood on a differently named or unnamed lane; or whether it had perhaps been demolished to make way for the Corniche.

28So if the Villa Paul still existed, it must have been renamed; which makes it hard to find if you don’t know what it looks like. But Ford gives very little description of the outside of the Villa itself, whether Niké or Paul, in these late novels and reminiscences – perhaps precisely because he and his characters are focused on the views out over the coast. We know the Villa Paul had two storeys; and multiple distinctive tall shuttered doors, where Ford, Biala and their guests would stand for photographs.

Ford Madox Ford at the Villa Paul, 1930s.
Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University.

Biala and Ford with the Crankshaws at Villa Paul, 1936.
Photographer unknown.
© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala
/ Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY

29There are one or two glimpses of the building seen through the lush vegetation in the garden. But they don’t give a clear enough picture of the structure to be able to identify it.

Ford in the Garden of the Villa Paul, 1930s. Cornell University.

30Before my first visit to Toulon I did what research I could from the United Kingdom; but again was unable to find anything on maps or online records that identified the location. But then I remembered that one of Biala’s photographs did have a distinctive landmark in it: a villa with a striking tower structure adjoining it. Could it have been another semaphore, or watchtower built by another retired naval office? Biala had labelled the photo: ‘Cap Brun View from Our Terrace’.

The Villa Paul and “the view from our terrace”
as inscribed by Biala, 1931. Photo: Janice Biala.
© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala /
Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.

31The slope down towards the sea indicates that it must have been taken looking to the left from the Villa Paul’s terrace. The building was so close as to give a much more precise idea of where to look. What’s more, the villa with the tower turned out to be easily identifiable on Google ‘Street View’. It is just below the Corniche, which confirmed the theory that the Villa Paul was either also on that side, so no longer on the Rue de la Calade, or demolished.

Photo: Max Saunders.

32On my first visit I made a reconnaissance trip to the area with Professor Dairine Ni Cheallaigh, who had consulted a local historian, who agreed we’d got the right spot. But where was the right house?

33Dairine and I felt that the likeliest contender for the site of the vanished part of the Rue de la Calade –near enough to its junction with the Corniche to be its continuation – was the Chemin Sainte-Agathe. There were a few houses and a church there, and we noted down the addresses and names of owners, almost persuading ourselves that one of them had the look of the Villa Paul as glimpsed in Ford’s and Biala’s photographs.

34But I wasn’t convinced, and the next day went back to have another look further along the Corniche – nearer the landmark tower, which can be clearly seen from the road. At another of the houses on the coast side of the Corniche, a man who looked like he might just have been old enough to know the place in 1945, was finishing off some gardening work, collecting up his tools and opening the gate to go back into his garden. Feeling this was my biographer’s ‘Aspern Papers’ moment, I accosted him. He listened courteously, and seemed interested to hear about an English writer living nearby, even though he didn’t know the name. He did recall the name ‘Villa Paul’ ,though, and was fairly confident that it was a neighbouring house; that it had been a shop in the past, but was now renamed ‘La Mandragore’. I felt that ‘L’Asphodèle’ would have been more appropriate. But this was not the moment for facetiousness. The gentleman – M. Chiozza – very kindly said he would telephone his sister, who would know. She was indeed able to confirm that the Villa Paul was the same as ‘La Mandragore’. M. Chiozza then took me over to see it, and if possible introduce me to the owner. The villa is right next to the Corniche, as if hewn out of the rocky slope, so that only its roof is visible from the road. Access is via a small slip-road down off the Corniche. The terrasse has been remodelled to contain a swimming pool, and a large modern poolside building has been added. As this is the main structure that can be seen from the road, it has provided an effective disguise for the nineteenth century villa. The address is now 926, Corniche du Général de Gaulle.

35Unfortunately the owner was away. But a gardener opened the gate, through which I could see enough. The row of five tall shuttered doors on the ground floor; the balcony upstairs where M. le Commandant and his wife lived; and the roof above the balcony, with the little round light at the apex, that makes the triangular shape visible in Biala’s photos.

36What I hadn’t realized till then though, and the realization seemed to clinch the identification, was that that triangular shape, which looked like eaves in the photographs, was actually a gable forming a kind of pediment. It gives the villa a much more imposing, classical look. ‘Ah, that’s why he called it the Villa Nike!’ I thought.

37Biographers should be wary of such confirmatory intuitions of course. There is more research to be done on Ford’s life in Toulon and in France. We don’t know what attention might have been paid to him by the local press. We know little about his social life there. It may be that the records in the Cadastre and the local archives tell a different story of the Villa Paul. But wherever Ford lived on Cap Brun, it inspired some of his best writing of the 30s; and his time in Toulon deserves to be better known in the region. This collection, and the conference which led to it, are welcome signs that that recognition is beginning to happen.

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Bibliographie

Novels and writings by Ford Madox Ford

The Good Soldier, ed. Max Saunders. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012.

Great Trade Route. London: Allen & Unwin, 1937.

Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance.London: Duckworth, 1924.

A Little Less than Gods. London: Duckworth, 1928.

The New Humpty-Dumpty. London: John Lane, 1912.

New York is not America. London: Duckworth, 1927.

Provence: From Minstrels to the Machine. Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1933.

The Rash Act. New York: Long and Smith, 1933.

Review of Marjorie Worthington’s Mannhattan Solo, New York Herald Tribune Books (14 February 1937), 4.

Other primary sources

Bowen, Stella. Drawn from Life. London, Virago, 1984.

Harvey, D. D., Ford Madox Ford. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962.

Knowles, Owen, A Conrad Chronology. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989.

Ludwig, Richard (ed.), Letters of Ford Madox Ford. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965.

O’Byrne, William R., A Naval Biographical Dictionary, volume 2. London: John Murray, 1849.

Saunders, Max. Ford Madox Ford: A Dual Life. Oxford: Oxford University Press, two volumes, 1996.

Scott, Sir Walter, Life of Napoleon Buonaparte. New York: Harper, 1827.

Worthington, Marjorie, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1966.

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Notes

1 Stella Bowen, Drawn from Life. London: Virago, 1984, pp. 134-35.

2 Ibid., pp.136-37.

3 Ford to Duckworth, 9 March 1926, in Letters of Ford Madox Ford, ed. Richard Ludwig (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965), pp. 168-69.

4 Gris to D.-H. Kahnweiler, 4 January 1926: Letters of Juan Gris, collected by Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler; translated and edited by Douglas Cooper (London: privately printed, 1956), pp. 176-77.

5 Stella Bowen, Drawn from Life, p. 142.

6 Marjorie Worthington, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook, (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1966), p. 194-95.

7 See Ford’s review of Worthington’s Mannhattan Solo, New York Herald Tribune Books (14 February 1937), 4.

8 Stella Bowen, op. cit., p. 15.

9 Marjorie Worthington, op. cit., p. 5.

10 Marjorie Worthington, The Strange World of Willie Seabrook (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1966), pp. 6-9.

11 See Saunders, Ford Madox Ford: A Dual Life, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 583, n. 28.

12 Bowen to Bradley, 18 March 1926: reproduced with kind permission of the Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin.

13 D. D. Harvey’s bibliography, Ford Madox Ford (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962), gives a putative date of May based on the earliest review he found of 20 May; but the book was reviewed a month earlier: 'Intimate France: Mr. Ford's Attractive Gossip', Daily Mail (16 April 1926), 4.

14 Ford, The New Humpty-Dumpty (London: John Lane, 1912), pp. 55-56. Toulon is also mentioned on p. 293: ‘Thus H.I.H. had a perfect confidence that he would get his money, and the battleship, which had already broken down off Toulon, was lying, in perfect condition, in that harbour, and was already the property of a shipbreakers' syndicate.’ And p. 372: ‘He was determined to go by train to Toulon and sail with the Russian battleship [. . .]’.

15 William R. O’Byrne, A Naval Biographical Dictionary - Volume 2 (London: John Murray, 1849), p. 727. Ford is quite likely to have known of Marryat’s heroism, since he has Ashburnham twice jumping ‘off the deck of a troopship to rescue what the girl called “Tommies,” who had fallen overboard in the Red Sea and such places’.:The Good Soldier, ed. Max Saunders (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), p. 77.

16 Ford Madox Ford, Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance, pp. 66-67. The book includes as an appendix a French obituary piece Ford wrote for the Paris Journal Littéraire on 16 August 1924. It includes an earlier version of this passage; so Toulon gets a mention in French as well: ‘que les Francais, soutenus par un diable personnel, n'existent que pour etre chasses de la mer, pour se cacher derriere les digues de Toulon’ (p 252).

17 Owen Knowles, A Conrad Chronology (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989), p. 5.

18 Joseph Conrad, pp. 70-71. Ford knew perfectly well Conrad hadn’t been born in France, and later makes clear this is an example of his impressionistic technique. See Saunders, ‘“[A] novel should be the biography of a man or of an affair, and a biography, whether of a man or an affair, should be a novel: Ford Madox Ford and Modernist Experiments in Biography’, Experiments in Life-Writing: Intersections of Auto/Biography and Fiction, ed. Lucia Boldrini, and Julia Novak (Cham, Switzerland: Springer/Palgrave Macmillan, 2017), pp. 39-59.

19 Saunders, A Dual Life, vol. 1, pp. 163, 244.

20 The Good Soldier, p. 97.

21 Knowles, A Conrad Chronology, pp. 114-15.

22 Ford, New York is not America (London: Duckworth, 1927), p. 81.

23 Ford, A Little Less than Gods (New York: Viking, 1928), p. 112.

24 Ibid., p. 114.

25 Ibid., p. 158.

26 Ford to Dreiser, 18 April 1931: Letters, p. 201.

27 Ford to Hugh Walpole, 30 Mar. 193[1]: Letters, 193-4, where it is misdated 1930. Bowen, Drawn from Life, 191-2. See The Rash Act, 287, and Henry for Hugh, 101-2.

28 Ford to T. R. Smith, 14 March 1931: Letters, 199-200 (p. 200).

29 Ford, The Rash Act (New York: Long and Smith, 1933), pp. 204-05.

30 Scott, Life of Napoleon Buonaparte (New York: Harper, 1827), pp. 282-3 (p. 283).

31 The Rash Act, op. cit., p. 287.

32 Ford, Great Trade Route (London: Allen & Unwin, 1937). pp. 27-28.

33 Provence, p. 167.

34 Ibid., pp. 285-288.

35 Provence (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1935), p. 91.

36 Ibid.p. 228.

37 Ibid., p. 228. Cf. Ford, It was the Nightingale (London: Heinemann, 1934), p. 158.

38 Great Trade Route, p. 222.

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Table des illustrations

Crédits Photo: Max Saunders.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-1.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 330k
Crédits Photo: Blackwells Rare Books.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-2.png
Fichier image/png, 897k
Légende Stella Bowen, La Terrasse, 1931.National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-3.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 153k
Légende Janice Biala, View from Our Terrace, 1933. Oil on canvas, 25 1/2 x 21 1/4 in (66 x 55.9 cm), Collection of the Estate of Janice Biala. © 2022 Estate of Janice Biala / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-4.png
Fichier image/png, 279k
Crédits Janice Biala, Ford on the Terrace, Cap Brun, c. 1931, a painting by Biala as photographed by the artist. Current location unknown. © 2022 Estate of Janice Biala / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-5.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 56k
Légende A semaphore in the nineteenth century.Photographed in Musée des Arts et Métiers, Paris. Public domain.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-6.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 176k
Légende Le sémaphore de Cepet - Saint-Mandrier-sur-Mer. Public domain.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-7.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 131k
Légende Janice Biala, Rade à Toulon [CR 164], 1931, oil on canvas, 29 x 19 11/16 in (61 x 50 cm). Private collection, Paris.© 2022 Estate of Janice Biala /Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-8.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 524k
Légende Ford Madox Ford at the Villa Paul, 1930s.Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-9.png
Fichier image/png, 476k
Légende Biala and Ford with the Crankshaws at Villa Paul, 1936. Photographer unknown. © 2022 Estate of Janice Biala / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-10.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 32k
Légende Ford in the Garden of the Villa Paul, 1930s. Cornell University.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-11.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 24k
Légende The Villa Paul and “the view from our terrace” as inscribed by Biala, 1931. Photo: Janice Biala. © 2022 Estate of Janice Biala / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-12.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 285k
Crédits Photo: Max Saunders.
URL http://journals.openedition.org/babel/docannexe/image/12674/img-13.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 117k
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Max Saunders, « Ford in Toulon / Toulon in Ford »Babel, 44 | 2021, 25-57.

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Max Saunders, « Ford in Toulon / Toulon in Ford »Babel [En ligne], 44 | 2021, mis en ligne le 01 septembre 2022, consulté le 30 janvier 2023. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/babel/12674 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/babel.12674

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Max Saunders

University of Birmingham

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