Concerning the Eccentricities of Cardinal Pirelli by Ronald Firbank (1926)

Firbank's last completed novel is as camply exotic and hesitatingly brazen as his others. It deals with a Catholic archbishop in southern Spain who has come to the notice of the Pope because of his 'eccentric' ways, which include not only looseness of method in carrying out his duties, but sensualism of a variety of kinds. This is rightfully sensitive material these days. I don't think it would be right to attempt to excuse Firbank his fascination with these things, rather one needs to record them as emblematic of the period. And it is needful to separate his literary legacy from the legacy of attitudes which contributed to a lot of misery. It is this literary effort which is, after all, Firbank's claim to note. Cardinal Pirelli is omni-sensual, as so many of this author's characters are. He is noted here as a chaser after women, and of the young postulants of uncertain age who form part of the cathedral community. What is undeniable is the by now well-known ornate, name-tasting, exclamatory, fulsome-hinting, bracingly coloured forced bloom of style erupting in stripped bursts over every page. These denominators ramp up into a breathless apogee of High Camp iconoclasm. Having recieved hints of the fact that the pontiff is concerned, Pirelli holidays for a period in the mountains above Clemenza, his diocesan centre. All the intrigue and vying for position among the community and the congregation that has been so lovingly recorded by Firbank carries on in his absence much as before, with the added fillip of gossip about Pirelli. Then, in a dreamlike last scene back home, he wanders at night into the Cathedral, where he has wolfishly arranged a rendezvous with a young chorister, who avoids his physical advances. In a strangely Gothic twist, silent lightning flickers over the scene. We are to presume, I think, that the youthful agility of the chorister wears the ageing Pirelli out in the chase. He slumps to his demise and is discovered nude by a doleful female sycophant who has been keeping loving watch on him. The age of the chorister is remarkably unclear and I think it is this which gives many readers cause for concern, quite rightly. The fact that this superceded attitude is given expression with such extortionately original vitality is, though, the key balancing care.