About the arts and ideas - on my novels and literature, music, and art

A new book about Beethoven gathers together (and completely rewrites and supplements) my blog posts on Beethoven into a short introduction to the composer, Ways of Hearing Beethoven, which I hope to see published. My novel The Fall of the Berlin Wall, completed a year ago, is about musicians and particularly the intense, irrepressible daughter of the legendary pianist featured in my previous novel Hungry Generations, now fifteen years after those events. Five years ago, my 2015 novel, The Ash Tree, was published by West of West Books in conjunction with the April 24, 2015 centenary of the Armenian genocide; it's about an Armenian-American family and the sweep of their history in the twentieth century - particularly from the points of view of two women in the family.
There are three other novels of mine, which I would love to see published. One is Pathological States, about a physician's family in L.A. in 1962. Another is Hungry Generations, about a young composer's friendship in L.A. with the family of a virtuoso pianist, published on demand by iUniverse, which I think would be of value to a conventional publisher. A Burnt Offering - a fable (a full rewriting and expansion of my earlier Acts of Terror and Contrition - a nuclear fable) is my political novella about Israel and its reactions to the possibility of a war with Iran (with the fear that it will be a nuclear war).
[My blog posts are, of course, copyrighted.]
Showing posts with label Walter Pater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walter Pater. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Literature and Music talks - session 5 - Late Romanticism and Early Modern


Flaubert and Baudelaire


Flaubert (1821-1880), Madame Bovary (1857) – from Part Two, Chapter 8: text...
 
What Emma hears in Pt. Two, Ch. 15: Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermore” Act 1 Finale Ah! Verrano a te sull'aure”:
LUCIA On the breeze
will come to you my ardent sighs…
When you think of me
living on tears and grief,
then shed a bitter tear
on this ring, ah, on this ring, etc.
ah, on this ring, etc.
EDGARDO and LUCIA On the breeze will come to you, etc. EDGARDO Remember, Heaven has joined us!
EDGARDO and LUCIA Farewell!     
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xToxhv_Y9nc  Sutherland, Pavarotti.
Verlaine, Mallarmé (by Manet), Debussy and Stravinsky: 
    
Text for Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun (0-3:00) – and recreation of Diagalev/Nijinsky ballet:
Debussy – from his libretto based on Maeterlinck’s play Pélleas et Mélisande:
Mélisande: [I love you.] Forever. Ever since I first saw you.
Pelléas: It is as if your voice had come over the sea in the spring! I have never heard it until today. It’s as though it had rained on my heart. You say those words so openly, like an angel answering questions. I can scarcely believe it, Mélisande. Why should you love me? Why do you love me? Is it true what you say? Were you making it up? Were you lying to me just to make me feel happy?
Mélisande: No, I never tell lies. I only lie to your brother.
Pelléas: Oh, the way you say that! Your voice, your voice! It is as fresh and as clear as water! It is like pure spring water on my lips. It is like pure spring water on my hands. Give me your hands, let me take your hands. Oh, your hands are so tiny! I never knew you were so beautiful. I had never set eyes on anything as beautiful before. I could not rest, I kept searching everywhere in the house, I kept searching everywhere in the country, but never found the beauty I sought. And now at last I have found you. I have found you. I don’t believe there is anywhere on earth a woman more beautiful. Where are you? I don’t hear your breathing any more.
Debussy, Pelleas and Mellisande – 1902 (7:30 to 9)
Mallarmé – from “Literature and Music” – Oxford speech, 1894: > text...
Pater (1839-1894) – from “Giorgione” (1877) in Studies in the Renaissance,  Conclusion to Studies in the Renaissance (cancelled in 2nd ed., then restored in 3rd): texts...
Debussy, La Mer – 1905 (Boston, Munch) 16:00 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOCucJw7iT8
Stravinsky, The Rite of Spring – 1913 – Beginning (Orch. de Paris, Boulez) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrOUYtDpKCc
Ending (L.A.Phil, Salonen) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSyOfJRmbLY  -From“Poetics of Music” ’38: text...
Image of Debussy and Stravinsky.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Notes on the modern period - 21 - Woolf and Bloomsbury

Virginia Woolf’s father, Sir Leslie Stephen, was a respected intellectual in the last decades of the Victorian era, and it is significant for her development that this late Victorian patriarch opened his considerable library to her without restriction. (Yet her extensive reading there did not prevent her from believing that she was yet uneducated – a feeling she give to Clarissa in Mrs. Dalloway.) Intellectually, the ‘father’ who influenced her development most was Walter Pater (incidentally, Pater’s sister Clara was Woolf’s first tutor in Greek and Latin, suggesting how interconnected the community of intellectuals was – and perhaps remains – in English life). The notion of “moments of being,” central to Pater’s thought about the nature of consciousness and art, remained important to Woolf throughout her life, as a conception of aesthetic experience and of how the stream of experience attains its potential fullness and intensity. (See my earlier post on Walter Pater.)

In “A Sketch of the Past,” Woolf chronicles her earliest experience of such “moments:” She begins with the image of lying in her nursery bed and listening in a sort of “rapture” to the “waves breaking, one, two, one, two, and sending a splash of water over the beach; and then breaking, one, two, one, two, behind a yellow blind.” Soon her account of these intense “moments of being” extends to the experience of violation and death. One of “these sudden shocks” involved the child abuse she suffered at the hands of her cousin Gerald (“His hand explored my private parts too. I remember resenting, disliking it….This seems to show that a feeling about certain parts of the body…must be instinctive. I proves the Virginia Stephen was not born on the 25th January 1882, but was born many thousands of years ago; and had from the very first to encounter instincts already acquired by thousands of ancestresses in the past”).

“These exceptional moments [occasioned particularly by contact with death] brought with them a peculiar horror and a physical collapse.” Yet, she writes, the “shock-receiving capacity is what makes me a writer. I hazard the explanation that a shock is at once in my case followed by the desire to explain it…; it is or will become a revelation of some order; it is a token of some real thing behind appearances; and I make it real by putting it into words. It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole.” Her “philosophy” as a writer is “that behind the cotton wool [of daily life] is hidden a pattern; that we – I mean all human beings – are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are all parts of the work of art.” An extraordinarily communicative being survives the traumatic “shocks” and is stirred by them to create a vision of wholeness and connection, which recognizes the deep patterns below the false boundaries on the surface of life with its “cotton wool” of insulated egos and habitual behavior.

After the death of her father in 1904 and a mental collapse which followed, she and her sister, Vanessa, moved from their darkly Victorian parental home to a well-lit house in Bloomsbury square, near the British Museum at the time, and it was here that a group of friends dedicated to subverting and transcending those ‘false boundaries.’ The Bloomsbury group formed around the sisters and their charismatic brother Theo, who brought his friends down from Cambridge. In 1906, he died of typhoid fever on a trip with his sisters to Greece, the second death within two years of a beloved family member. The agonized human struggles of the Stephen family and, generally, of the Bloomsbury friends only deepened their faith in one another. Guided from the start by the ideals of friendship and personal affection voiced by the Cambridge dons G. E. Moore and G. L. Dickenson, the Bloomsbury circle came to believe in a sort of liberal aristocracy made up of people like themselves, comprised that is – to quote E. M. Forster – of “the sensitive, the considerate, and the plucky,” i.e., the courageous (famously, he wrote that he would rather die for his friend than for his country). True civilization, Forster and his friends believed, existed only within the cracks in the edifices of power, which needed liberal reform but not revolutionary abolition.

That attitude can be found in the influential thought of the major members of the Bloomsbury circle, beyond the gifted novelist Forster – for example, the economist J. M. Keynes (who helped to found the modern field of economics) and the brilliant art critic Roger Fry (who initiated the English-speaking world into the experience of post-impressionist art), the preeminent English post-impressionist artist Duncan Grant, and several other highly influential English intellectuals. (Acquaintances included the philosopher Bertrand Russell (who wrote Principia Mathematica with Alfred North Whitehead, invited Wittgenstein to Cambridge, and later became a stalwart anti-nuclear leader in the “ban the bomb” movement.)

Yet Bloomsbury was hardly a purely cerebral group of friends. The art critic Clive Bell fell in love with the Stephen sisters and particularly Vanessa, whom he married (a few days after her brother Thoby’s death). The brilliant Leonard Woolf (who helped to found the modern Labor Party) fell in love with and married Virginia, whom he saw as beautiful and demur on the outside, showing great intelligence in her eyes – on the inside, satirically witty and hypercritical. Lytton Strachey, the bohemian homosexual writer and acerbically realistic biographer, opened the floodgate of conversation about sex when, in 1910, he pointed to a white stain on Vanessa’s dress and said matter-of-factly: “Semen.” (It was not for nothing that D. H. Lawrence was an acquaintance – however critical and questioning – of several members of Bloomsbury, Forster above all.)

This post presents more background than I’d intended to offer, for I’d like to locate some of the crucial “moments of being” created in Virginia Woolf’s novels – I’ll try to do so in my next post. (By the way, you can read "A Sketch of the Past" and a good selection of essays and novel excerpts in The Virginia Woolf Reader.)
The Virginia Woolf Reader

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Notes on the Modern period - 8 - Pater and Aestheticism

In the current version of the Modernism course I’m teaching, our focus moved from Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud to the founding thinkers in the modern social sciences including Simmel, Veblen, Le Bon, Frazer, as well as two early modern feminist writers; we have also spent a week on modern science (befitting a general education seminar at CWRU), reading essays by Darwin and then by Einstein and Heisenberg. Most of this occurred before we turned to the development of modern literature, music, and art. However, in these notes, I think it will be better first to discuss modern literature and then in later posts to turn to the array of other topics in the development of modernism. This post will attempt to discuss some of Walter Pater’s ideas as they influenced Yeats and other modern writers. It’s tempting to spend some time exploring Pater, for he offers a sort of Nietzschean aesthetic, but in the English language and in terms of English culture.


Pater was a ‘fellow’ and tutor at Oxford, and two of his students were among the most original writers of the late nineteenth century, Oscar Wilde and Gerard Manley Hopkins. The celebration of aesthetic experience in the professor’s work clearly influenced each of these men. The point of Wilde’s paradoxes is often to assert the primacy of art and the pervasiveness of aesthetic artifice in either shaping or insulating us from life. And the greatness of Hopkins’ poems is to develop a language infused with the force of – and the tension between – his sensuous ‘aesthetic’ sensitivity and his fervent Catholicism. It was also Pater who invited Mallarmé to Oxford in 1872, to deliver his lecture on “Literature and Music.” The British modernist writers of the next generation were all young Paterians, including William Butler Yeats, Virginia Woolf, D. H. Lawrence, and James Joyce (as well as T. S. Eliot).

A part of Pater’s description of Leonardo’s Mona Lisa was placed by Yeats at the conclusion of his introduction to the edition he edited of the Oxford Book of Modern Poetry, and the poet transformed Pater’s prose into a poem, adding line breaks at the end of each phrase. The passage projects a breath-taking ambiguity, reminiscent of the tension in Hopkins between a sensuous aestheticism and religious images; here Pater evokes Mona Lisa as simultaneously an inhabitant of the region of evanescence and death (“dead many times…[she] has learned the secrets of the grave”), and a pagan goddess (“as Leda, [she] was the mother of Helen of Troy”), and a religious figure (“and, as St. Anne, [she] was the mother of Mary”) – this combination of the holy, the pagan, and the deathly presents the painting as an ambiguous aesthetic paragon, indeed (for “all this has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes”). The paragraph is part of Pater’s Studies in the Renaissance, with its chapters on the Italian masters, with its famous formulation that “all art aspires to the condition of music,” and with its infamous “Conclusion.” [Studies in the History of the Renaissance (6915)]

It is the “Conclusion” which had the most significant impact on the next generation of intellectuals in Britain. It begins with an analysis of experience as “a perpetual motion” of “moments.” Consciousness experiences these moments as a stream of “impressions, unstable, flickering, inconsistent, which burn and are extinguished with our consciousness of them” – in many respects his description parallels the new “modern” insights into the psychology of consciousness – for instance, William James’ idea of the “the stream of consciousness.” This self-conscious flux of “momentaneous” impressions is “ringed round for each one of us by that thick wall of personality through which no real voice” has pierced; here one can see a sort of veiled Hegelian combat in Pater against the roles and mores of often hypocritical and euphemistic late Victorian culture. A sort of death of that insulated, obligatory Victorian self is suggested by him in his evocation of the evanescent flux and “tremulous wisp” of the self.

Pater’s imagery and syntax, with the suspense of its delayed or buried verbs, create a suggestive, even subversive air of instability and ambiguity. For instance: “it is with this…passage and dissolution of impressions, images, sensations, that analysis leaves off – that continual vanishing away, that strange, perpetual weaving and unweaving of ourselves.” The “service” of the intellect “towards the human spirit” can be “to rouse, to startle it to a life of constant and eager observation – for “every moment some form grows perfect in hand or face; some tone…some mood of passion or insight or intellectual excitement is irresistibly real and attractive to us – for that moment only. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end.” These sentences were seen as a subversive threat to the morals of youth, to the Victorian faith in the roles of “ladies and gentlemen.” As a result, the “Conclusion” was banned and not reprinted in the second edition of Pater’s Studies in the Renaissance (though it was restored in the third, a decade later). To live life with such intensity that “the greatest number of vital forces unite in their purest energy:” such is Pater’s injunction, his call to experience the full range and intensity of human experience, the sensual and spiritual, the pagan and the holy. “To burn always with this hard, gemlike flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.”

“While all melts under our feet,” Pater writes, echoing Hegel’s description of self-consciousness, “we may well grasp at any exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowledge that seems by a lifted horizon to set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange colors, and curious odors, or work of the artist’s hand, or the face of one’s friend. Not to discriminate every moment some passionate attitude in those about us, and in the very brilliancy of their gifts some tragic dividing of forces on their ways, is, on this short day of frost and sun, to sleep before evening.” Many interpretations are invited by this passage – it may seem a call to lead a sort of dandified life of surface refinements, yet that is the least insinuating of interpretations, for the “Conclusion” emphasizes the life of the passions, and its imagery seems to promote a passionately erotic or sensual responsiveness. No wonder that the teen-aged Lawrence, intent on throwing off the yoke of Victorianism, named his small circle of Paterians “The Pagans.” Seize the day, Pater almost seems to write, for “we are all under the sentence of death, but…we have an interval, and then our place knows us no more.”

In the climax of the “Conclusion,” Pater describes how we may spend that interval – some “in listlessness, some in high passion, the wisest…in art and song. For our one chance lies in expanding that interval, in getting as many pulsations as possible into the given time.” To achieve “a quickened, multiplied consciousness,” art is celebrated as offering the best means (now there’s a bit of Paterian syntax for you). “Of such wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of art for its own sake, has most. For art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments’ sake.” In my next post, we’ll see how this high ideal of aestheticism is adapted by Yeats and other writers to modernity with its buffeting changes, its wars, and its commitment to experiment.