sonatas, continued (Beethoven – String Quartet No. 14 in C♯ minor, Op 131)
Richibi’s Weblog
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Category: up my idiosyncrasies
August 15, 2023
how to listen to music if you don’t know your Beethoven from your Bach, XVIII – Rachmaninov
“Portrait of the composer Sergei Rachmaninov“
Konstantin Somov
______
though you probably still wouldn’t be able
to tell a prelude from a hole in the wall,
nor, admittedly, can I, unless indicated,
if you’ve listened to the pieces I’ve
recently presented, you’ve noted, even
merely sensed, really, that the preludes
of one composer don’t sound at all like
those of the others, Bach doesn’t sound
like Chopin, who doesn’t sound at all
like Debussy, the first step in telling
your Beethoven from your Bach, as
promised in my title
you might not even be able to tell which
is which as you’re listening, but you can
tell they’re different, you do the same
thing telling your Monet from your
Renoir
Rachmaninov also wrote, like Chopin,
and Debussy, 24 preludes, and, like
Chopin, in every key, major and minor
but spread out through three publications,
Opus 3, no. 2, from 1892, comprising of
only one prelude, but a scorcher, The
a second set, Opus 23, consists of ten,
mostly iconic, pieces, you’ve heard
them somewhere before, therefore
iconic
the final set comes out in 1910,
Opus 32, with thirteen preludes,
for a total of 24
you’ll marvel, even Marilyn Monroe
famously did
enjoy
R ! chard
April 26, 2023
how to listen to music if you don’t know your Beethoven from your Bach, XII – on rhapsodies
“Rhapsody“ (1958)
_____
if, in my last instalment, I compared iconic
funeral marches, let me do the same for
a couple of iconic rhapsodies, another
musical form that came and went, that’s
come and gone, but not forgotten
what’s a rhapsody
as far as I can make out, it’s much the
same as a fantasia, if you can remember
what a fantasia is, a free form composition,
but with a Romantic, which is to say a
heartfelt, twist, more pathos, less
technical wizardry
Gershwin wrote his Rhapsody in Blue
in 1924, you can hear New York, Times
Square, Broadway, from the first wail
of the languid horn
Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme
of Paganini, written in 1934, ten years
later, gives you, however, Vienna, its
Romantic Period, the traditions of,
a century earlier, Beethoven, Schubert
Rachmaninov is personal, introspective,
tragic, Gershwin is extroverted, social,
fun
Rachmaninov looked back to his
European, Old World, traditions,
Gershwin augurs an entirely new
voice
listen, you can hear it
enjoy
R ! chard
January 13, 2023
how to listen to music if you don’t know your Beethoven from your Bach
“Music“(1895)
Gustav Klimt
________
how to listen to music if you don’t know your
Beethoven from your Bach
the first thing to do, I would suggest, is to stop
and listen, spend the time with the work you’re
listening to, it’s no different than spending half
an hour with a friend
but you have to be there, listen, as you would
with a friend, no cell phones
the next thing I suggest is to compare, put your
work up against a different composer, a
different interpretation, a different version of
the piece you have on hand
I learned this as I learned to tell one artwork
from another, while I turned European art
museums into personal art history classes,
spending hours comparing one painting
with another, doing so chronologically,
century after century, imbibing thereby the
history of Western art
it’s not necessary to know who you might
even be listening to, just listen, hear,
later the names will come
here’s some Mozart, here’s some Prokofiev,
for instance, you’ll tell the difference
instinctively, forget about the composers,
just surrender to the magic
here’s a poem which says more or less
the same thing
How to Read a Poem: Beginner’s Manual
First, forget everything you have learned,
that poetry is difficult,
that it cannot be appreciated by the likes of you,
with your high school equivalency diploma,
your steel-tipped boots,
or your white-collar misunderstandings.
Do not assume meanings hidden from you:
the best poems mean what they say and say it.
To read poetry requires only courage
enough to leap from the edge
and trust.
Treat a poem like dirt,
humus rich and heavy from the garden.
Later it will become the fat tomatoes
and golden squash piled high upon your kitchen table.
Poetry demands surrender,
language saying what is true,
doing holy things to the ordinary.
Read just one poem a day.
Someday a book of poems may open in your hands
like a daffodil offering its cup
to the sun.
When you can name five poets
without including Bob Dylan,
when you exceed your quota
and don’t even notice,
close this manual.
Congratulations.
You can now read poetry.
Pamela Spiro Wagner
music is also like that
R ! chard
November 13, 2021
“The Mariners transform’d to Dolphins” (ll) – Ovid
“Bacchus“
Sergey Solomko
______
“His base confederates the fact approve;
His base confederates, the shipmates who
would not protect the soft and lovely boy,
the little captive, that Acoetes believes to
be a god, if you’ll remember
When Bacchus (for ’twas he) begun to move,
Wak’d by the noise and clamours which they rais’d;
And shook his drowsie limbs, and round him gaz’d:
What means this noise? he cries; am I betray’d?
Ah, whither, whither must I be convey’d?
whither, whither, where, where, to
what place, to what place
Fear not, said Proreus, child, but tell us where
You wish to land, and trust our friendly care.
Proreus, another of the several sailors
serving on Acoetes‘ ship
To Naxos then direct your course, said he;
Naxos a hospitable port shall be
To each of you, a joyful home to me.
Naxos, a Greek island, whither Bacchus /
Dionysus presently direct[s] his, however
questionable, hosts to repair
By ev’ry God, that rules the sea or sky,
The perjur’d villains promise to comply,
And bid me hasten to unmoor the ship.
me, Acoetes
With eager joy I launch into the deep;
And, heedless of the fraud, for Naxos stand.
heedless, unaware
the fraud, [t]he perjur’d villains promise to comply
stand, proceed
They whisper oft, and beckon with the hand,
And give me signs, all anxious for their prey,
To tack about, and steer another way.
They, the rebellious crew
anxious, wary, suspicious
to tack, to change course
Then let some other to my post succeed,
Said I, I’m guiltless of so foul a deed.
succeed, take the place of, replace
guiltless, Acoetes will not accept
responsibility for the treachery of
his crew
What, says Ethalion, must the ship’s whole crew
Follow your humour, and depend on you?
Ethalion, again a shipmate
And strait himself he seated at the prore,
And tack’d about, and sought another shore.
prore, the prow, the fore part of a ship
“The beauteous youth now found himself betray’d,
The beauteous youth, Bacchus / Dionysus
And from the deck the rising waves survey’d,
And seem’d to weep, and as he wept he said:
And do you thus my easy faith beguile?
Thus do you bear me to my native isle?
thus, in such a manner
beguile, deceive
Will such a multitude of men employ
Their strength against a weak defenceless boy?
this weak defenceless[ness] is his only
defence, apparently, to his captors, who
cannot, with the exception of Acoetes,
perceive the god’s divinity
“In vain did I the God-like youth deplore,
deplore, express strong disapproval
of what the seamen were doing to
the god
The more I begg’d, they thwarted me the more.
And now by all the Gods in Heav’n that hear
This solemn oath, by Bacchus’ self, I swear,
The mighty miracle that did ensue,
Although it seems beyond belief, is true.
make way, says Acoetes, for the
metamorphosis, what you are
about to hear
The vessel, fix’d and rooted in the flood,
fix’d, became affixed
Unmov’d by all the beating billows stood.
In vain the mariners would plow the main
With sails unfurl’d, and strike their oars in vain;
plow the main, move forward on
the high seas
Around their oars a twining ivy cleaves,
And climbs the mast, and hides the cords in leaves:
The sails are cover’d with a chearful green,
And berries in the fruitful canvass seen.
Amidst the waves a sudden forest rears
Its verdant head, and a new Spring appears.
the ship is transformed into a
floating grove
stay tuned
R ! chard
August 22, 2021
“The Mariners transform’d to Dolphins” – Ovid
“Bacchus” (1497)
Michelangelo
_______
Him Pentheus view’d with fury in his look,
Pentheus, king of Thebes, if you’ll
remember, after Cadmus, his
grandfather, founder of Thebes
viewed, scanned, surveyed
And scarce with-held his hands, whilst thus he spoke:
with-held, withheld
“Vile slave! whom speedy vengeance shall pursue,
And terrify thy base seditious crew:
Vile slave, the zealous votary from
the last instalment, follower, acolyte
of Bacchus / Dionysus, who’d been
captured by Pentheus’ men instead
of the god himself
by exacting a speedy vengeance on
this [v]ile slave, Pentheus expects
to terrify the remaining elements of
the offending crew, the seditious
party of Bacchus / Dionysus
Thy country and thy parentage reveal,
And, why thou joinest in these mad Orgies, tell.”
where are you from, what are you
doing here, Pentheus asks
The captive views him with undaunted eyes,
And, arm’d with inward innocence, replies,
“From high Meonia’s rocky shores I came,
Of poor descent, Acoetes is my name:
My sire was meanly born; no oxen plow’d
His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures low’d.
meanly, poor, without adequate
means
plow’d, low’d, an interesting
rhyme, they’re called forced
or oblique rhymes
His whole estate within the waters lay;
estate, livelihood, Acoetes‘ father,
his sire, was a fisherman
With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey,
finny, having fins
His art was all his livelyhood; which he
Thus with his dying lips bequeath’d to me:
His art, the quality of his work
In streams, my boy, and rivers take thy chance;
There swims, said he, thy whole inheritance.
Acoetes will inherit at best his
father’s skill
Long did I live on this poor legacy;
‘Till tir’d with rocks, and my old native sky,
that of Meonia, see above
To arts of navigation I inclin’d;
arts of navigation, knowledge of
the open sea, the wider oceans
Observ’d the turns and changes of the wind,
Learn’d the fit havens, and began to note
The stormy Hyades, the rainy Goat,
The bright Taygete, and the shining Bears,
With all the sailor’s catalogue of stars.
Hyades, a cluster of stars, with their
own mythic origin story, grieving
nymphs cast upon the heavens,
augurs of rain,hence stormy
the rainy Goat, Capricornus, the
constellation
Taygete, a satellite of the planet
the shining Bears, Ursa Major
and Ursa Minor, or the Great
and the Little Bear, whose
origins you might remember
from The Story of Calisto
“Once, as by chance for Delos I design’d,
Delos, a Greek island
design’d, planned as a destination
My vessel, driv’n by a strong gust of wind,
Moor’d in a Chian Creek; a-shore I went,
Chian, of Chios, a Greek island
And all the following night in Chios spent.
When morning rose, I sent my mates to bring
Supplies of water from a neighb’ring spring,
Whilst I the motion of the winds explor’d;
Then summon’d in my crew, and went aboard.
Opheltes heard my summons,
Opheltes, a confederate apparently
and with joy
Brought to the shore a soft and lovely boy,
With more than female sweetness in his look,
hmmmm
Whom straggling in the neighb’ring fields he took.
he took, he apprehended
With fumes of wine the little captive glows,
And nods with sleep, and staggers as he goes.
“I view’d him nicely, and began to trace
Each heav’nly feature, each immortal grace,
And saw divinity in all his face,
I know not who, said I, this God should be;
But that he is a God I plainly see:
And thou, who-e’er thou art, excuse the force
These men have us’d; and oh befriend our course!
befriend, accord it your sympathy
Pray not for us, the nimble Dictys cry’d,
Dictys, one of Acoetes‘ shipmates
Dictys, that could the main-top mast bestride,
And down the ropes with active vigour slide.
To the same purpose old Epopeus spoke,
Epopeus, another sailor
Who over-look’d the oars, and tim’d the stroke;
The same the pilot, and the same the rest;
Such impious avarice their souls possest.
all countermanding Acoetes‘, however
discerning, assessment
Nay, Heav’n forbid that I should bear away
Within my vessel so divine a prey,
Said I; and stood to hinder their intent:
Acoetes had no intention of confining
this so divine a prey to his ship
When Lycabas, a wretch for murder sent
From Tuscany, to suffer banishment,
With his clench’d fist had struck me over-board,
Had not my hands in falling grasp’d a cord.
Lycabas, a third shipmate
Tuscany, a region of what is now
central Italy
it appears, however, that Acoetes
lived to tell the tale
stay tuned
R ! chard
July 24, 2021
“The Story of Pentheus” – Ovid
“The Triumphal Procession of Bacchus” (c.1536)
Maerten van Heemskerck
_______________
till now the separate stories in Ovid’s
Metamorphoses have been linked,
one being either a consequence of
the other,or its cause, but the story
of Pentheus, grandson of Cadmus,
king and founder of Thebes, who
earlier in this series had his own
tale told, starts, as my German
teacher used to say, from the
scratch
This sad event, therefore, in the
first line of the poem, refers to
what will follow, not what came
before
This sad event gave blind Tiresias fame,
Through Greece establish’d in a prophet’s name.
Tiresias, if you’ll remember, had been
blinded by Juno / Hera, goddess of the
gods, for having sided with Jove / Jupiter
/ Zeus, her husband, in a wager between
them he’d been called upon to decide,
Jove / Jupiter / Zeus, however, gave
Tiresias, as consolation, having been
barred by a pact among the gods not
to undo each other’s spells, the gift
of insight, prophecy
the example that follows, of his divination,
establish[‘d] at that time his reputation
[t]hrough[out] Greece as a prophet
Th’ unhallow’d Pentheus only durst deride
The cheated people, and their eyeless guide.
unhallow’d, unholy, wicked, sinful
Pentheus, king of Thebes following
his grandfather, Cadmus, but that’s
an entirely other story
only, of all the people, none but
Pentheus durst, dared, deride,
mock, their eyeless guide, Tiresias
To whom the prophet in his fury said,
Shaking the hoary honours of his head:
hoary, grizzled, gray, aged
“‘Twere well, presumptuous man, ’twere well forthee
If thou wert eyeless too, and blind, like me:
For the time comes, nay, ’tis already here,
When the young God’s solemnities appear:
the young God[], Bacchus / Dionysus,
son of Semele and Jove / Jupiter / Zeus,
if you’ll remember, god of revelry,
intoxication, wild abandon
Which, if thou dost not with just rites adorn,
Thy impious carcass, into pieces torn,
Shall strew the woods, and hang on ev’ry thorn.
impious carcass, dishonoured corpse,
of any thou who wouldn’t’ve honoured
the celebrations
Then, then, remember what I now foretel,
And own the blind Tiresias saw too well.”
own, agree to, admit
Still Pentheus scorns him, and derides his skill;
But time did all the prophet’s threats fulfil.
For now through prostrate Greece young Bacchus rode,
prostrate, beholden, reverent, observant
of the solemnities
Whilst howling matrons celebrate the God:
All ranks and sexes to his Orgies ran,
To mingle in the pomps, and fill the train.
the rites of Bacchus were bacchanals,
orgies, celebrations of abandon, Mardi
Gras, for instance, in New Orleans,
annual Gay Parades, now everywhere,
or Hallowe’en since time immemorial
see above
When Pentheus thus his wicked rage express’d:
“What madness, Thebans, has your souls possess’d?
Can hollow timbrels, can a drunken shout,
timbrels, tambourines
And the lewd clamours of a beastly rout,
Thus quell your courage;
quell your courage, overcome your
sense of discipline
can the weak alarm
Of women’s yells those stubborn souls disarm,
those stubborn souls, the Theban
spirit of pride and honour
Whom nor the sword nor trumpet e’er could fright,
Nor the loud din and horror of a fight?
And you, our sires, who left your old abodes,
our sires, the older generation of
Thebans, of his grandfather
Cadmus‘ ilk
And fix’d in foreign earth your country Gods;
foreign earth, very Thebes, from Tyre,
where Cadmus and his followers had
come from, in search of Europa, if
you’ll remember
Will you without a stroak your city yield,
stroak, stroke
And poorly quit an undisputed field?
undisputed field, there are no
military obstructions
But you, whose youth and vigour should inspire
Heroick warmth, and kindle martial fire,
Whom burnish’d arms and crested helmets grace,
Not flow’ry garlands and a painted face;
Remember him to whom you stand ally’d:
him, Pentheus himself, their king
The serpent for his well of waters dy’d.
The serpent, a reference here to the
dragon that Cadmus slew, which had
guarded the cavern where his crew
had been scouting for water, if you’ll
remember
He fought the strong; do you his courage show,
And gain a conquest o’er a feeble foe.
a feeble foe, licentiousness, abandon,
undisciplined revelry
If Thebes must fall, oh might the fates afford
A nobler doom from famine, fire, or sword.
Pentheus appeals to a loftier reason
for defeat, famine, fire, or sword, than
mere, and ignoble, debauchery
Then might the Thebans perish with renown:
But now a beardless victor sacks the town;
beardless victor, the young Bacchus /
Dionysus
Whom nor the prancing steed, nor pond’rous shield,
Nor the hack’d helmet, nor the dusty field,
But the soft joys of luxury and ease,
The purple vests, and flow’ry garlands please.
Bacchus / Dionysus is not impressed
by armour, military accomplishments,
prowess, but by grace, elegance, and
poetry
Stand then aside, I’ll make the counterfeit
Renounce his god-head, and confess the cheat.
the counterfeit, Bacchus / Dionysus
Acrisius from the Grecian walls repell’d
This boasted pow’r; why then should Pentheus yield?
Acrisius, a king of Argos, who must’ve
also repell’d from his city Bacchus /
Dionysus, according to the poem
Go quickly drag th’ impostor boy to me;
th’ impostor boy, the counterfeit,
Bachus / Dionysus
I’ll try the force of his divinity.”
try, test
Thus did th’ audacious wretch those rites profane;
th’ audacious wretch, Pentheus
His friends dissuade th’ audacious wretch in vain:
In vain his grandsire urg’d him to give o’er
His impious threats; the wretch but raves the more.
his grandsire, Cadmus
So have I seen a river gently glide,
In a smooth course, and inoffensive tide;
But if with dams its current we restrain,
It bears down all, and foams along the plain.
nature will have its way, so will the
gods, watch out, the narrator says,
who it is that you challenge
But now his servants came besmear’d with blood,
Sent by their haughty prince to seize the God;
his servants, Pentheus‘ men
the God, Bacchus / Dionysus
The God they found not in the frantick throng,
But dragg’d a zealous votary along.
votary, follower, adherent,
acolyte
the servants, Pentheus‘ men,
who did not, apparently, deliver
stay tuned
R ! chard
July 9, 2021
“The Story of Narcissus” (lll) – Ovid
“The Metamorphosis of Narcissus” (1937)
Salvador Dali
_____
This said, the weeping youth again return’d
To the clear fountain,
This said, you’ll remember that Narcissus
had pondered suicide, but was afraid that
such an act would also have an impact on
his reflection
where again he burn’d;
burn’d, from the unusual fire that kindled
his breast
His tears defac’d the surface of the well,
With circle after circle, as they fell:
disfiguring reverberations in the water
from the tears
And now the lovely face but half appears,
O’er-run with wrinkles, and deform’d with tears.
“Ah whither,” cries Narcissus, “dost thou fly?
Let me still feed the flame by which I die;
the flame by which I die, the fire which
burns in his chest
Let me still see, tho’ I’m no further blest.”
Narcissus will not willingly forego the
sight of his reflection though it will
manifestly not at all still his desire,
nor quell his fate
Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast:
His naked bosom redden’d with the blow,
In such a blush as purple clusters show,
Ere yet the sun’s autumnal heats refine
Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine.
bruises the colour of wine blush in
purple clusters on his chest where
Narcissus has struck himself
repeatedly
The glowing beauties of his breast he spies,
And with a new redoubled passion dies.
The glowing beauties, the throbbing
discolorations left by the redoubled
blows
As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run,
And trickle into drops before the sun;
So melts the youth, and languishes away,
His beauty withers, and his limbs decay;
And none of those attractive charms remain,
To which the slighted Echo su’d in vain.
slighted, rebuffed
Echo, the nymph who’d pursued him,
in vain, if you’ll remember
su’d, sued, implored
She saw him in his present misery,
Whom, spight of all her wrongs, she griev’d to see.
spight, in spite
She answer’d sadly to the lover’s moan,
Sigh’d back his sighs, and groan’d to ev’ry groan:
“Ah youth! belov’d in vain,” Narcissus cries;
to his reflection
“Ah youth! belov’d in vain,” the nymph replies.
Echo can only echo
“Farewel,” says he; the parting sound scarce fell
From his faint lips, but she reply’d, “farewel.”
Narcissus, interestingly, is reproduced
not only visually in the water by his
own reflection, but audibly as well by
Echo‘s reverberating sounds
Then on th’ wholsome earth he gasping lyes,
‘Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes.
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires,
And in the Stygian waves it self admires.
Stygian, of the river Styx, which forms
the boundary between Earth and the
Underworld
For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn,
Naiads, water nymphs
Dryads, tree nymphs
Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn;
Echo also mourns
And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn:
When, looking for his corps, they only found
A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown’d.
corps, corpse, dead body
rising stalk, with yellow blossoms
crown’d, the narcissus, the flower
R ! chard
June 13, 2021
“The Story of Narcissus” (ll) – Ovid
“Narcissus” (1896 – 1897)
Magnus Enckell
__________
Still o’er the fountain’s wat’ry gleam he stood,
Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food;
Still view’d his face, and languish’d as he view’d.
Narcissus has been smitten by this
reflection of himself in the fountain’s
wat’ry gleam, can’t sleep, won’t eat
note, incidentally, the two meanings
of Still here, the first, without moving,
the second, not having stopped, not
discontinued
At length he rais’d his head, and thus began
To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain.
“You trees,” says he, “and thou surrounding grove,
Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love,
Tell me, if e’er within your shades did lye
A youth so tortur’d, so perplex’d as I?
I, who before me see the charming fair,
the charming fair, his reflection
in the fountain’s wat’ry gleam
Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there:
In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost:
Narcissus reflects, bewildered
by the ephemerality of his
vision
And yet no bulwark’d town, nor distant coast
Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen,
No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between.
there is no material object, he reasons,
to obstruct a clear view of the beauteous
youth before him, no intervening
obstacles between him and his vision
bulwark’d, defended with fortifications,
as in Medieval towns
the beauteous youth, his own reflection
A shallow water hinders my embrace;
A shallow water, only a sheen is
required to cast a reflection, a
film merely, the water need not
be at all that deep
And yet the lovely mimick wears a face
the lovely mimick, the image in
the water
That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join
My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine.
what of homosexuality here, an
unobjectionable predilection at
the time, apparently, there isn’t
a whiff of iniquity in this attraction,
according to the text, no hint of
guilt or embarrassment
Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint,
a direct exhortation here, note,
no longer, in this instance, a
literary narration, a tale being
told
Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant.
My charms an easy conquest have obtain’d
O’er other hearts, by thee alone disdain’d.
you, Narcissus says, alone, replication,
disdain[ ], repulse, my advances, my
elsewhere, otherwise, easy conquest[s]
But why should I despair? I’m sure he burns
With equal flames, and languishes by turns.
When-e’er I stoop, he offers at a kiss,
offers, responds with
And when my arms I stretch, he stretches his.
His eye with pleasure on my face he keeps,
He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps.
When e’er I speak, his moving lips appear
To utter something, which I cannot hear.
all his senses are alive, but for
his hearing, which registers only
silence, when all of the other
aspects of the experience are
precise and vivid as though
real, utterly, however
incompatibly, convincing
“Ah wretched me! I now begin too late
To find out all the long-perplex’d deceit;
It is my self I love, my self I see;
The gay delusion is a part of me.
I kindle up the fires by which I burn,
And my own beauties from the well return.
Whom should I court? how utter my complaint?
court, sue to, argue, put to the
test a dilemma, a complaint, as
though before an arbiter
Enjoyment but produces my restraint,
And too much plenty makes me die for want.
How gladly would I from my self remove!
And at a distance set the thing I love.
My breast is warm’d with such unusual fire,
I wish him absent whom I most desire.
And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh;
In all the pride of blooming youth I die.
the contradictions inherent in passion
are evidenced, in this case those of
love
Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve.
Oh might the visionary youth survive,
visionary, relating to vision, observed,
caught sight of, viewed, in the water
relieve, render solace to, there is no
solution to this anguished misery
but dying
I should with joy my latest breath resign!
But oh! I see his fate involv’d in mine.”
you might have noted, or not, that
the tale has become psychological
in the instance of Narcissus, where
earlier an action transpired and
events were recounted in
chronological order, in this myth,
the subject explores his inner
world while sitting quietly
throughout by the still water,
nothing moves, but the
palpitations of his heart, and its
distempers
there’s a shift here in not only
the mythological template, more
personal, individual stuff, but also
in the very evolution of literature,
which takes on a more interior
tone rather than fatalistic,
episodic, given entirely to
unfathomed circumstance
this will lead to To be, or not to be
eventually, the anthem that took
over the subsequent centuries
since, Shakespeare‘s homage to
introspection, setting the stage
for the ensuing ages of
individualism, human rights
but that’s another story
stay tuned
R ! chard
May 7, 2021
Ovid / Shakespeare
Richibi's Weblog 