"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture
and, if possible, speak a few reasonable words." ~Goethe

~ also, if possible, to dwell in "a house where all's accustomed, ceremonious." ~Yeats

Showing posts with label A Chorus Line. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Chorus Line. Show all posts

Friday, April 15, 2016

Titanic

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
Molly Brown House Dining Room by Barbara Froula

Margaret / Molly Brown, and Family, At Home


Titanic Survivor

I delayed this Fortnightly post until the 15th (instead of the usual 14th) in honor of the RMS Titanic, which foundered 104 years ago today in the early hours of Monday, April 15, 1912. Thomas Hardy's 1915 poem "Convergence of the Twain" commemorates the tragedy by offering the perspective of a coincidence so vast in scope that mere mortals could not have anticipated the cosmic irony that would bring together Titanic and Iceberg:

The Convergence of the Twain
(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")
I
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" ...

VI
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

VII
Prepared a sinister mate
For her — so gaily great —
A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.

VIII
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

IX
Alien they seemed to be;
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history,

X
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august event,

XI
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said "Now!" And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.


by Thomas Hardy, 1840 - 1928
English poet, novelist, and Victorian realist


Hardy expressed a similar determinism in 1902:

The Subalterns
I
“Poor wanderer," said the leaden sky,
“I fain would lighten thee,
But there are laws in force on high
Which say it must not be.”

II
--“I would not freeze thee, shorn one," cried
The North, “knew I but how
To warm my breath, to slack my stride;
But I am ruled as thou.”

III
--“To-morrow I attack thee, wight,"
Said Sickness. “Yet I swear
I bear thy little ark no spite,
But am bid enter there.”

IV
--“Come hither, Son," I heard Death say;
“I did not will a grave
Should end thy pilgrimage to-day,
But I, too, am a slave!”

V
We smiled upon each other then,
And life to me had less
Of that fell look it wore ere when
They owned their passiveness.



As did American poet Stephen Crane in 1899:

XXXVIII
The ocean said to me once,
"Look!
Yonder on the shore
Is a woman, weeping.
I have watched her.
Go you and tell her this --
Her lover I have laid
In cool green hall.
There is wealth of golden sand
And pillars, coral-red;
Two white fish stand guard at his bier.

"Tell her this
And more --
That the king of the seas
Weeps too, old, helpless man.
The bustling fates
Heap his hands with corpses
Until he stands like a child
With a surplus of toys."


Stephen Crane, 1871 - 1900
American poet, journalist, novelist, short story writer

from The Black Rider and Other Lines
in War is Kind and Other Poems


In Hardy's poetry, "the Spinner of the Years" and "the Immanent Will," orchestrate human destiny and the course of nature; the Sky, the North Wind, Sickness, and even Death bear humanity no ill will and never act from malice but are themselves subject to "laws in force on high." Likewise for Crane, the "bustling fates" exercise power over "The ocean" and "the king of the seas" who, despite their watery palaces, are mere figureheads, helpless to stop shipwrecks and drownings. One slight tremor -- "at a fateful time - a wrong called" (see poem #VI) -- and chaos reigns.

With great sadness, Crane likens the many lost at sea to an overabundance of playthings, piling up unused, lost forever to their loved ones yet meaningless to the gods. Hardy notes the vanity and opulence of the wasted underwater treasure, envisioning the material wealth of the Titanic -- "jewels . . . sparkles . . . gilded gear" -- lying muddy and marred on the floor of the Atlantic.

Heroic shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, as portrayed by Victor Garber in the epic film, attributes the disaster -- somewhat differently than the poets do -- to "mathematical certainty." Some crew and passengers may incredulously insist that the ship can never sink; but Andrews responds with honesty and humility. Named by many viewers as "Best Scene in Titanic," his moment of truth stands out amidst all the sweeping drama and special effects:

"She's made of Iron . . . I assure you she can [sink]!
And she will. It is a mathematical certainty."


Titanic

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Thursday, April 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Belive It Or Not
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST ~
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Kiss Today

A PLACE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS
PRINT BY EUGENE SAMUEL GRASSET (1845 -1917)
FROM HIS LA BELLE JARDINIERE CALENDAR SERIES, 1896

*************

"IN this Æglogue two shepheards boyes taking occasion of the season, beginne to make purpose of loue and other pleasaunce, which to springtime is most agreeable. The speciall meaning hereof is, to giue certaine markes and tokens, to know Cupide the Poets God of Loue. But more particularlye I thinke, in the person of Thomalin is meant some secrete freend, who scorned Loue and his knights so long, till at length him selfe was entangled, and unwares wounded with the dart of some beautifull regard, which is Cupides arrowe.

Thomalin, why sytten we soe,
As weren ouerwent with woe,
Vpon so fayre a morow?
The ioyous time now nighest fast,
That shall alegge this bitter blast,
And slake the winters sorowe.

Sicker Wyllie, thou warnest well:
For Winters wrath beginnes to quell,
And pleasant spring appeareth.
The grasse now ginnes to be refresht,
The Swallow peepes out of her nest,
And clowdie Welkin cleareth.
" [Welkin = sky, heavens]

Woodcut illustration
and poet's introduction and opening stanzas
for the Month of March
from "The Shepheardes Calender," 1579
by Edmund Spenser, English Poet (1552 - 1599)

With the coming of March, Cupid, "little Love," as the shepherds call him, has awakened and is sneaking about the woods, "abroad at his game." He flits behind trees and bushes, betrayed by the vivid colors of his "winges of purple and blewe . . . spotted winges like Peacockes trayne." [You'll notice that Spenser wrote back in the good old days when you didn't have to remember your apostrophes!]

Also easy to envision is Emily Dickinson's breezy personification of March walking down the path and bursting through the front door. The narrator welcomes March with open arms, a kiss perhaps. Sometimes March is a Lion, sometimes a Lamb, but for Dickinson, March is a Gentleman Caller:

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat--
You must have walked --
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did Nature leave you well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell! --Emily Dickinson


March and the Poet are left to catch up on all the latest gossip before April arrives, much as Spenser's two shepherds discuss their strategies for love and courtship in the coming months, one imparting advice to the other:

"Let be, as may be, that is past:
That is to come, let be forecast.
Now tell vs, what thou hast seene.
"

In other words:

Kiss today goodbye,
The sweetness and the sorrow.
Wish me luck, the same to you.
But I can't regret
What I did for love,
what I did for love.

Look my eyes are dry.
The gift was ours to borrow.
It's as if we always knew,
And I won't forget
what I did for love,
What I did for love.

Gone,
Love is never gone.
As we travel on,
Love's what we'll remember.

Kiss today goodbye,
And point me toward tomorrow.
We did what we had to do.
Won't forget, can't regret
What I did for
Love


lyrics by by Edward Kleban
from A Chorus Line
music by Marvin Hamlisch

In the center are the two conversing shepherds, behind them is winged Cupid, and above them is the zodiac symbol for Aries, the Ram. To the left is Love's victim, "entangled [in a fowling net], and unwares wounded by the dart . . . of Cupides arrowe" and to the right is Thomalin fighting with Love, throwing stones to no avail.

Thomalin's rueful conclusion about the difficulties
of Love in the Springtime,
i.e., the Sweetness and the Sorrow:
Of Hony and of Gaule in loue there is store:
The Honye is much, but the Gaule is more.


STAY TUNED FOR
Next Fortnightly Post
Sunday, March 14th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Dear March
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Take a look at
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com