Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Leonardo and music

http://www.goldbergweb.com/en/magazine/essays/2005/02/30640.php


Thirty years ago, Emanuel Winternitz, the Curator of the Department of Musical Instruments at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art, complained of the scant attention devoted at that time to the study of Leonardo da Vinci as a musician.
The only references quoted in this context were Vasari’s observations in Lives of the Artists and those of Leonardo himself in his Treatise on Painting.
Despite the fame that he enjoyed during his lifetime, Leonardo was consigned to oblivion for almost three hundred years. Until the Louvre was opened in 1800, he was remembered only for his Treatise on Painting, a book which was a best-seller from the time of its publication in 1651.
Velázquez, with his keen interest in culture, had a first edition of the book in his large library.
Leonardo is better known to us today, thanks to a number of recent discoveries: notarial records, drawings, letters, the reconstruction of his musical instruments, and particularly the chance discovery of the previously lost Madrid Codices I and II, which were found in 1965 in the National Library of Madrid.
Accounts of Leonardo as a musician are to be found in the works of his earliest biographers: Paolo Giovio (Dialogi di viris et foeminis actate nostra florentibus), Anonimo Gaddiano (Book on Painting), Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo (Gli sogni e raggionamenti) and Vasari (Lives of the Artists). It is nevertheless Leonardo himself who provides the most information about his relationship with music. A glance at the chronological data will help us to appreciate the connection between music and Leonardo’s artistic and scientific career. He was born at Vinci in 1452, the natural son of Ser Piero and Caterina. His father, a well-known notary in Florence, had him follow the family tradition by studying Law, but he soon encouraged his son to take up a career in commerce, which would allow the young Leonardo to act as a broker abroad for the powerful Florentine families. To pursue this profession he required a thorough training and so he took up the study of arithmetic. Vasari writes: “ he began to learn many things and then gave them up. Thus in arithmetic, during the few months that he studied it, he made such progress that he frequently confounded his master by continually raising doubts and difficulties. He also studied music and soon learned to play the lira, and, being filled with a lofty and delicate spirit, he could sing and improvise divinely with it.” Arithmetic and music, together with geometry and astronomy, constituted the Quadrivium, the four pillars on which education was founded in the Renaissance.
Music in the age of Leonardo was a reflection of the affirmation of individual personality; it was therefore more in tune with a philosophy that valued simple, expressive melody over and above the artifice of counterpoint. Italian musicians sang or recited from memory in their own native language, with or without accompaniment on the lute, the lira da braccio, the viola da gamba, the portative organ, the mandolin or the tabor. There are accounts of many poet-singers or popular composer- singers, among them Leonardo Giustiniani, a great improviser of verses who accompanied himself on the lute and whose poems were also set to music by such famous European composers as Johannes Ciconia and John Dunstable, both of whom wrote settings for his ballata “O rosa bella”. Benedetto Chariteo recited verses from Virgil and accompanied himself on the lute. Serafino d’Aquila, Panfilo Sass and Andrea Mazdue improvised verses in Latin, the language used almost exclusively by the Flemish musicians who visited and worked in Italy. Florence boasted Baccio Ugolini, Lorenzo the Magnificent’s ambassador, who had acted in Poliziano’s Orfeo, Antonio di Guido, Bartolomeo Tromboncino and Leonardo himself. In cultural circles, as well as in the society of merchants and artisans, music was both highly prized and widely cultivated. It was quite usual for singers to improvise songs on their own poems as well as the finest Italian lyric poetry.

An example of this amateur musicianship can be seen in Verrocchio, who improvised on the lyre and taught Leonardo music. Giorgione, too, was an excellent lute player, while Bramante recited poems accompanying himself on the lyre, as did Marsilio Ficino and Girolamo Savonarola. In the following account, Villari describes the feelings of Savonarola when the latter decided to enter a monastery: “on 23 April 1475, he sat down and, taking his lute in his hand, sang so sad an air to its accompaniment that his mother was inspired with a foreboding of the truth, and, turning suddenly to him, piteously exclaimed: ‘Oh, my son, this is a token of separation!’ But Girolamo, making an effort, continued to pluck the strings with trembling fingers, without once daring to raise his eyes.”
The harmony of the soul
Popular musical expression was to be found in the music of song and dance. The most widespread were forms such as the frottola and the barzeletta of Tuscany, with its dominant upper part, ideal to be sung by three or four voices. They were usually accompanied on the lute because of its vertical consonance. These popular songs were included in the festivities at the Court of the Medicis, gradually becoming transformed into carnival songs similar to the frottola . These were the songs that Leonardo would have heard as a child in the streets of Florence during carnival and the Calendimaggio festivals. When Leonardo decided to leave the workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, his interest in music led him to take lessons with Antonio Squarcialupi, the illustrious organist of Santa Maria del Fiore, who was also Lorenzo the Magnificent’s music teacher.

One fact is crucial to a proper understanding of the period: the spread of printing, which played a vital role in the dissemination of music. The first printing press to print music from movable type was the now legendary press of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who printed his first book, Harmonicae Musices Odhecaton, in 1501. In 1511 he opened a workshop in Fossombrone, disseminating the works of masters such as Josquin, Isaac, Obrecht... and frottola music in eleven books of which ten survive to the present day. That was the beginning of printed music; the industry grew rapidly, with new printing presses appearing at an extraordinary rate. Petrucci’s rival, Andrea Antico, had workshops in both Rome and Venice and therefore also played a significant part in the increased circulation of music books.

Italy was a magnet for foreign musicians, including Willaert, Dunstable, Ockeghem, Obrecht, Binchois, Compère, Dufay –whose motet “Nuper rosarum flores” was performed at the consecration of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence after Brunelleschi’s cupola was completed in 1436– and particularly Josquin Desprez. The most admired musician of his day, Josquin was maestro di capella at Milan Cathedral. Martin Luther, himself a musician, wrote of him: “Other masters must do as the notes wish, whereas Josquin is master of the notes, which do his bidding.”

Although there is some disagreement among the biographers, it seems that Leonardo moved from Vinci to the Tuscan capital in 1460 or 1464 (not in 1470) and embarked on his life in the cultural melting pot that was Florence at a time when it was one of the three or four most important cities of the age. Once there, his father took him, as we have already mentioned, to the workshop of Andrea di Cione, also known as Verrocchio, who, according to Vasari, “was a sculptor, a master of intarsio, a painter and a consummate musician”. Considered the most prestigious in Italy, Verrocchio’s workshop numbered among its pupils Lorenzo di Credi, Perugino and Francesco di Simone, and it was frequented by such figures as Sandro Botticelli and Antonio and Piero Pollaiuolo. It was a centre of humanistic thought in which Leonardo acquired both conceptual and technical knowledge in the fields of painting, music, science and humanism. There he came into contact with his future patrons, the Medicis and Ludovico Sforza (Il Moro), Duke of Milan. All manner of objects were produced at the workshop and all kinds of creative activities were pursued: painting, sculpture, the manufacture of processional banners, diverse items for festive occasions and, significantly, musical instruments. Verrocchio held Leonardo in high esteem and took great pains to teach him the skills of the artist and musician. It was during this period that Leonardo began to study singing and various instruments and, very probably, the art of instrument building. Although no score of Leonardo’s survives, and in fact scarcely one or two musical phrases remain, a testament to his musical knowledge has been preserved in his drawings of musical instruments, his hieroglypha and his writings.
The harmony of the soul Popular musical expression was to be found in the music of song and dance. The most widespread were forms such as the frottola and the barzeletta of Tuscany, with its dominant upper part, ideal to be sung by three or four voices. They were usually accompanied on the lute because of its vertical consonance. These popular songs were included in the festivities at the Court of the Medicis, gradually becoming transformed into carnival songs similar to the frottola . These were the songs that Leonardo would have heard as a child in the streets of Florence during carnival and the Calendimaggio festivals. When Leonardo decided to leave the workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, his interest in music led him to take lessons with Antonio Squarcialupi, the illustrious organist of Santa Maria del Fiore, who was also Lorenzo the Magnificent’s music teacher.
One fact is crucial to a proper understanding of the period: the spread of printing, which played a vital role in the dissemination of music. The first printing press to print music from movable type was the now legendary press of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who printed his first book, Harmonicae Musices Odhecaton, in 1501. In 1511 he opened a workshop in Fossombrone, disseminating the works of masters such as Josquin, Isaac, Obrecht... and frottola music in eleven books of which ten survive to the present day. That was the beginning of printed music; the industry grew rapidly, with new printing presses appearing at an extraordinary rate. Petrucci’s rival, Andrea Antico, had workshops in both Rome and Venice and therefore also played a significant part in the increased circulation of music books.
Italy was a magnet for foreign musicians, including Willaert, Dunstable, Ockeghem, Obrecht, Binchois, Compère, Dufay –whose motet “Nuper rosarum flores” was performed at the consecration of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence after Brunelleschi’s cupola was completed in 1436– and particularly Josquin Desprez. The most admired musician of his day, Josquin was maestro di capella at Milan Cathedral. Martin Luther, himself a musician, wrote of him: “Other masters must do as the notes wish, whereas Josquin is master of the notes, which do his bidding.”
Although there is some disagreement among the biographers, it seems that Leonardo moved from Vinci to the Tuscan capital in 1460 or 1464 (not in 1470) and embarked on his life in the cultural melting pot that was Florence at a time when it was one of the three or four most important cities of the age. Once there, his father took him, as we have already mentioned, to the workshop of Andrea di Cione, also known as Verrocchio, who, according to Vasari, “was a sculptor, a master of intarsio, a painter and a consummate musician”. Considered the most prestigious in Italy, Verrocchio’s workshop numbered among its pupils Lorenzo di Credi, Perugino and Francesco di Simone, and it was frequented by such figures as Sandro Botticelli and Antonio and Piero Pollaiuolo. It was a centre of humanistic thought in which Leonardo acquired both conceptual and technical knowledge in the fields of painting, music, science and humanism. There he came into contact with his future patrons, the Medicis and Ludovico Sforza (Il Moro), Duke of Milan. All manner of objects were produced at the workshop and all kinds of creative activities were pursued: painting, sculpture, the manufacture of processional banners, diverse items for festive occasions and, significantly, musical instruments. Verrocchio held Leonardo in high esteem and took great pains to teach him the skills of the artist and musician. It was during this period that Leonardo began to study singing and various instruments and, very probably, the art of instrument building. Although no score of Leonardo’s survives, and in fact scarcely one or two musical phrases remain, a testament to his musical knowledge has been preserved in his drawings of musical instruments, his hieroglypha and his writings.
The harmony of the soul Popular musical expression was to be found in the music of song and dance. The most widespread were forms such as the frottola and the barzeletta of Tuscany, with its dominant upper part, ideal to be sung by three or four voices. They were usually accompanied on the lute because of its vertical consonance. These popular songs were included in the festivities at the Court of the Medicis, gradually becoming transformed into carnival songs similar to the frottola . These were the songs that Leonardo would have heard as a child in the streets of Florence during carnival and the Calendimaggio festivals. When Leonardo decided to leave the workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, his interest in music led him to take lessons with Antonio Squarcialupi, the illustrious organist of Santa Maria del Fiore, who was also Lorenzo the Magnificent’s music teacher.
One fact is crucial to a proper understanding of the period: the spread of printing, which played a vital role in the dissemination of music. The first printing press to print music from movable type was the now legendary press of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who printed his first book, Harmonicae Musices Odhecaton, in 1501. In 1511 he opened a workshop in Fossombrone, disseminating the works of masters such as Josquin, Isaac, Obrecht... and frottola music in eleven books of which ten survive to the present day. That was the beginning of printed music; the industry grew rapidly, with new printing presses appearing at an extraordinary rate. Petrucci’s rival, Andrea Antico, had workshops in both Rome and Venice and therefore also played a significant part in the increased circulation of music books.
Italy was a magnet for foreign musicians, including Willaert, Dunstable, Ockeghem, Obrecht, Binchois, Compère, Dufay –whose motet “Nuper rosarum flores” was performed at the consecration of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence after Brunelleschi’s cupola was completed in 1436– and particularly Josquin Desprez. The most admired musician of his day, Josquin was maestro di capella at Milan Cathedral. Martin Luther, himself a musician, wrote of him: “Other masters must do as the notes wish, whereas Josquin is master of the notes, which do his bidding.”
Although there is some disagreement among the biographers, it seems that Leonardo moved from Vinci to the Tuscan capital in 1460 or 1464 (not in 1470) and embarked on his life in the cultural melting pot that was Florence at a time when it was one of the three or four most important cities of the age. Once there, his father took him, as we have already mentioned, to the workshop of Andrea di Cione, also known as Verrocchio, who, according to Vasari, “was a sculptor, a master of intarsio, a painter and a consummate musician”. Considered the most prestigious in Italy, Verrocchio’s workshop numbered among its pupils Lorenzo di Credi, Perugino and Francesco di Simone, and it was frequented by such figures as Sandro Botticelli and Antonio and Piero Pollaiuolo. It was a centre of humanistic thought in which Leonardo acquired both conceptual and technical knowledge in the fields of painting, music, science and humanism. There he came into contact with his future patrons, the Medicis and Ludovico Sforza (Il Moro), Duke of Milan. All manner of objects were produced at the workshop and all kinds of creative activities were pursued: painting, sculpture, the manufacture of processional banners, diverse items for festive occasions and, significantly, musical instruments. Verrocchio held Leonardo in high esteem and took great pains to teach him the skills of the artist and musician. It was during this period that Leonardo began to study singing and various instruments and, very probably, the art of instrument building. Although no score of Leonardo’s survives, and in fact scarcely one or two musical phrases remain, a testament to his musical knowledge has been preserved in his drawings of musical instruments, his hieroglypha and his writings.
The harmony of the soul
Popular musical expression was to be found in the music of song and dance. The most widespread were forms such as the frottola and the barzeletta of Tuscany, with its dominant upper part, ideal to be sung by three or four voices. They were usually accompanied on the lute because of its vertical consonance. These popular songs were included in the festivities at the Court of the Medicis, gradually becoming transformed into carnival songs similar to the frottola . These were the songs that Leonardo would have heard as a child in the streets of Florence during carnival and the Calendimaggio festivals. When Leonardo decided to leave the workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, his interest in music led him to take lessons with Antonio Squarcialupi, the illustrious organist of Santa Maria del Fiore, who was also Lorenzo the Magnificent’s music teacher.

One fact is crucial to a proper understanding of the period: the spread of printing, which played a vital role in the dissemination of music. The first printing press to print music from movable type was the now legendary press of Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice, who printed his first book, Harmonicae Musices Odhecaton, in 1501. In 1511 he opened a workshop in Fossombrone, disseminating the works of masters such as Josquin, Isaac, Obrecht... and frottola music in eleven books of which ten survive to the present day. That was the beginning of printed music; the industry grew rapidly, with new printing presses appearing at an extraordinary rate. Petrucci’s rival, Andrea Antico, had workshops in both Rome and Venice and therefore also played a significant part in the increased circulation of music books.

Italy was a magnet for foreign musicians, including Willaert, Dunstable, Ockeghem, Obrecht, Binchois, Compère, Dufay –whose motet “Nuper rosarum flores” was performed at the consecration of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence after Brunelleschi’s cupola was completed in 1436– and particularly Josquin Desprez. The most admired musician of his day, Josquin was maestro di capella at Milan Cathedral. Martin Luther, himself a musician, wrote of him: “Other masters must do as the notes wish, whereas Josquin is master of the notes, which do his bidding.”

Although there is some disagreement among the biographers, it seems that Leonardo moved from Vinci to the Tuscan capital in 1460 or 1464 (not in 1470) and embarked on his life in the cultural melting pot that was Florence at a time when it was one of the three or four most important cities of the age. Once there, his father took him, as we have already mentioned, to the workshop of Andrea di Cione, also known as Verrocchio, who, according to Vasari, “was a sculptor, a master of intarsio, a painter and a consummate musician”. Considered the most prestigious in Italy, Verrocchio’s workshop numbered among its pupils Lorenzo di Credi, Perugino and Francesco di Simone, and it was frequented by such figures as Sandro Botticelli and Antonio and Piero Pollaiuolo. It was a centre of humanistic thought in which Leonardo acquired both conceptual and technical knowledge in the fields of painting, music, science and humanism. There he came into contact with his future patrons, the Medicis and Ludovico Sforza (Il Moro), Duke of Milan. All manner of objects were produced at the workshop and all kinds of creative activities were pursued: painting, sculpture, the manufacture of processional banners, diverse items for festive occasions and, significantly, musical instruments. Verrocchio held Leonardo in high esteem and took great pains to teach him the skills of the artist and musician. It was during this period that Leonardo began to study singing and various instruments and, very probably, the art of instrument building. Although no score of Leonardo’s survives, and in fact scarcely one or two musical phrases remain, a testament to his musical knowledge has been preserved in his drawings of musical instruments, his hieroglypha and his writings.

It is important to remember that from 1480 Leonardo assiduously attended the intellectual and artistic circles hosted by Lorenzo the Magnificent in the gardens of San Marco, as well as those held at Accademiola, the villa in Careggi, on the outskirts of Florence, which Marsilio Ficino had received as a gift in 1462 from his former patron, Cosimo de’ Medici. There Leonardo met with the greatest humanists of the day: Luigi Pulci, Angelo Poliziano, Giuliano Sangallo, Filippo Lippi, Cristoforo Landino, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Leo Battista Alberti and, of course, Ficino himself. The influence of their works is central to an understanding of the Renaissance, as is that of Ficino, in particular, to the development of Platonic thought in Italy. Ficino’s profound knowledge of Greek enabled him to translate the works of Plato into Latin, and he founded a kind of Platonic Academy which was to play a major role in the development of the new philosophy. At these gatherings, as in the artists’ workshops, the lira da braccio and the lute were played, and every occasion was a good excuse for indulging in song. The “lyre of Orpheus” gave access to glittering institutions, cured afflictions of the spirit and was the remedy for melancholy. Musicians also believed that the true purpose of human activity was the plenitude of beauty and metaphysical value; to this end, the arts were classified into a higher harmony, or “music”, which consisted of various levels: reason, imagination, discourse, song, the ability to play musical instruments and rhythmic dance. All of the former culminated in a higher level of attainment, which was universal harmony. At that time, music was the most modern of the arts because of its freedom and capacity for formal abstraction, and also because of its ability to define human emotions. As Italians so aptly put it, “música é il lamento dell’amore o la preghiera a gli dei” (Music is the lament of love or a prayer to the gods).

In his Treatise on Painting, Leonardo writes: “But painting, the servant of the eye, that noblest of the senses, reveals a harmonious proportion similar to the harmonious proportion which results from many voices uniting and singing together, in such a delightful manner that the audience is rapt in intense admiration.” He later goes on to remark: “Do you not know that our soul is composed of harmony, and that harmony cannot be bred save in the simultaneity and the relative proportions of objects which are seen or heard?”

The conceptual differences between Leonardo and those who formed the group close to Lorenzo the Magnificent grew steadily greater. Leonardo was a scientist and a mathematician, whereas they adhered to Platonic theories and were strongly influenced by certain schools which tended to mysticism and were linked to the figure of Savonarola, whose doctrines inspired little sympathy in Leonardo. Milan, on the other hand, was more conducive to encyclopaedic knowledge, an Aristotelianism tempered by the mathematicians, scientists and engineers at the court of Ludovico with whom Leonardo was able to conduct his research. It was there that Leonardo pursued both his artistic and scientific activities.
In the Treatise on Painting, he states: “Music should be called none other than the sister of painting, and is subordinate to hearing, the sense which follows sight. Its harmonies are composed of the simultaneous conjunction of its proportional parts, which are destined to be born and then die in one or several harmonic spaces. These tempos circumscribe the proportion of the parts, for this harmony is composed as if it traced a circumference, like that which is obtained from the limbs which give beauty to the human form. Painting is superior to music because, unlike unfortunate music, it does not have to die as soon as it is born, and therefore its essence remains. Painting shows one side of a living thing.”

A very similar observation on music is to be found in Alberti’s treatise De pictura.. We have already pointed out that Leonardo had a sound knowledge of music, acquired through conversations with his friends at the Academy, from performances heard at festive events and in the theatre, from his familiarity with the music of Heinrich Isaac and Josquin Desprez, from his acquaintance with Franchino Gaffurio and as a result of the instrument-making skills that he learned from Verrocchio, Lorenzo Gurnasco and the prestigious family of instrument-builders, the Dieufoprugars. Particularly relevant in this context was his relationship with Gaffurio, conductor of the Cathedral choir in Milan from 1484, who published major treatises on music theory, including Theorica musicae (1492), Practica musicae (1496) and De harmonia musicorum instrumentorum opus (1500), with which Leonardo must have been familiar. Gaffurio may have been the subject of the portrait Leonardo painted around 1485 or1487, entitled Portrait of a musician, which, when restored, revealed a sheet of music in the sitter’s right hand with the inscription CANT ANG, possibly an abbreviation of CANT(OR) ANG(ELICUM), an allusion to Gaffurio’s work Angelicum ac divinum opus musicae. Other authors, however, suggest that this could be a portrait of Josquin Desprez, who was also engaged at Milan Cathedral, or even of Atalante Migliorotti.
Playing on a silver lire
After an apprenticeship of almost nine years, Leonardo left Verrocchio’s workshop and established an independent workshop of his own. Later in 1482, he moved to Milan. It seems likely that a major factor in Leonardo’s decision was his impatience at not receiving any important commission in Florence; in fact, during his time there he had only carried out workshop pieces under Verrocchio, in addition to the two paintings of St Jerome and the Madonna of Benois. His departure may also have been influenced by the charges of sodomy unsuccessfully brought against him five years earlier, or by the fact that he was not among the other great painters of his acquaintance chosen by Pope Sixtus IV to work in Rome. It is not known why he left his marvellous painting, the Adoration of the Magi unfinished. It may simply be that, as so frequently was the case, he lost interest in the project, his incessantly creative mind being constantly occupied with more lofty thoughts than the work in hand. The official theory concerning his departure from Florence is based on information provided by Vasari: “Leonardo was invited to Milan with great ceremony by the Duke to play the lira, in which that prince greatly delighted. Leonardo took his own instrument, made by himself in great part of silver [...] to render the harmonies more loud and sonorous, so that he surpassed all the musicians who assembled there. Besides this, he was the best improviser of verse of his time.” Vasari’s observations on Leonardo as a musician are echoed by Gaddiano and Lomazzo.

Gaddiano insists that it was Lorenzo the Magnificent who sent Leonardo to Milan to present to Ludovico Sforza the gift of a silver lyre, and that Leonardo was accompanied by the sixteen-year-old Atalante Migliorotti, his pupil “in the art of playing the lyre”, as well as by Tommaso Masini da Peretola, an extraordinary craftsman and engineer who was nicknamed Zoroastro on account of his fascination with magic and mysterious natural phenomena. The instrument in question was a kind of lira da braccio, built by Leonardo in the shape of a horse’s head. There is a drawing by Leonardo which resembles such an instrument: a horned animal’s skull with strings stretched over a soundbox. and fretted fingerboard. On 23 February 1482, coinciding with the carnival festivities, a music and poetry contest was held in which Leonardo and Atalante were proclaimed the winners. Both during and after the festival, Ludovico conversed at length with Leonardo on the subjects of music and poetry, but at that very moment Leonardo was hatching plans that had nothing to do with either topic: just a few days later, he sent the Duke a letter offering his professional services, including ten specific proposals and listing his accomplishments as a military engineer and an architect.


Bloom, again


"Criticism starts - it has to start - with a real passion for reading. It can come in adolescence, even in your twenties, but you must fall in love with poems. You must fall in love with what we used call 'imaginative literature.' And when you are in love that way, with or without provocation from good teachers, you will pass on to encountering what used to be called the sublime. And as soon as you do this, you pass into the agonistic mode, even if your own nature is anything but agonistic. In the end, the spirit that makes one a fan of a particular athlete or a particular team is different only in degree, not in kind, from the spirit that teaches one to prefer one poet to another, or one novelist to another. That is to say there is some element of competition at every point in one's experience as a reader. How could there not be? Perhaps you learn this more fully as you get older, but in the end you choose between books, or you choose between poems, the way you choose between people. You can't become friends with every acquaintance you make, and I would not think that it is any different with what you read."
Excerpted from "Harold Bloom : The Art of Criticism I" Interview by Antonio Weiss. Paris Review v33, #118 (Spring, 1991) PAGES 178 - 232.

The Curmudgeonly Sage, Harold Bloom

A few years ago, I was flipping through the channels and came across an interview with Harold Bloom on C-SPAN's "Booknotes." He was discussing his most recent book at the time How to Read and Why. Kerry Fried, from amazon.com, has a review of the book that describes Bloom and his devoted passion for books and reading impeccably ...

Harold Bloom's urgency in How to Read and Why may have much to do with his age. He brackets his combative, inspiring manual with the news that he is nearing 70 and hasn't time for the mediocre. (One doubts that he ever did.) Nor will he countenance such fashionable notions as the death of the author or abide "the vagaries of our current counter-Puritanism" let alone "ideological cheerleading." Successively exploring the short story, poetry, the novel, and drama, Bloom illuminates both the how and why of his title and points us in all the right directions: toward the Romantics because they "startle us out of our sleep-of-death into a more capacious sense of life"; toward Austen, James, Proust; toward Thomas Mann, Toni Morrison, and Cormac McCarthy; toward Cervantes and Shakespeare (but of course!), Ibsen and Oscar Wilde.

How should we read? Slowly, with love, openness, and with our inner ear cocked. Then we should reread, reread, reread, and do so aloud as often as possible. "As a boy of eight," he tells us, "I would walk about chanting Housman's and William Blake's lyrics to myself, and I still do, less frequently yet with undiminished fervor." And why should we engage in this apparently solitary activity? To increase our wit and imagination, our sense of intimacy--in short, our entire consciousness--and also to heal our pain. "Until you become yourself," Bloom avers, "what benefit can you be to others." So much for reading as an escape from the self!

Still, many of this volume's pleasures may indeed be selfish. The author is at his best when he is thinking aloud and anew, and his material offers him--and therefore us--endless opportunities for discovery. Bloom cherishes poetry because it is "a prophetic mode" and fiction for its wisdom. Intriguingly, he fears more for the fate of the latter: "Novels require more readers than poems do, a statement so odd that it puzzles me, even as I agree with it." We must, he adjures, crusade against its possible extinction and read novels "in the coming years of the third millennium, as they were read in the eighteenth and nineteenth century: for aesthetic pleasure and for spiritual insight."

Bloom is never heavy, since his vision quest contains a healthy love of irony--Jedediah Purdy, take note: "Strip irony away from reading, and it loses at once all discipline and all surprise." And this supreme critic makes us want to equal his reading prowess because he writes as well as he reads; his epigrams are equal to his opinions. He is also a master allusionist and quoter. His section on Hedda Gabler is preceded by three extraordinary statements, two from Ibsen, who insists, "There must be a troll in what I write." Who would not want to proceed? Of course, Bloom can also accomplish his goal by sheer obstinacy. As far as he is concerned, Don Quixote may have been the first novel but it remains to this day the best one. Is he perhaps tweaking us into reading this gigantic masterwork by such bald overstatement? Bloom knows full well that a prophet should stop at nothing to get his belief and love across, and throughout How to Read and Why he is as unstinting as the visionary company he adores. --Kerry Fried

The History of the Gadsden Flag



A great article (foundingfathers.info) on the origin and symbolism of our most distinctive and, I think, most appropriate flag ...

The meaning of Old Glory can get mixed up with the rights and wrongs of the perpetually new-and-improved government. The meaning of "Don't Tread on Me" is unmistakable.
There's also an interesting history behind this flag. And it's intertwined with one of American history's most interesting personalities, Ben Franklin.

American unity
Benjamin Franklin is famous for his sense of humor. In 1751, he wrote a satirical commentary in his Pennsylvania Gazette suggesting that as a way to thank the Brits for their policy of sending convicted felons to America, American colonists should send rattlesnakes to England.
Three years later, in 1754, he used a snake to illustrate another point. This time not so humorous.

Franklin sketched, carved, and published the first known political cartoon in an American newspaper. It was the image of a snake cut into eight sections. The sections represented the individual colonies and the curves of the snake suggested the coastline. New England was combined into one section as the head of the snake. South Carolina was at the tail. Beneath the snake were the ominous words "Join, or Die."

This had nothing to do with independence from Britain. It was a plea for unity in defending the colonies during the French and Indian War. It played off a common superstition of the time: a snake that had been cut into pieces could come back to life if you joined the sections together before sunset.

The snake illustration was reprinted throughout the colonies. Dozens of newspapers from Massachusetts to South Carolina ran Franklin's sketch or some variation of it. For example, the Boston Gazette recreated the snake with the words "Unite and Conquer" coming from its mouth.

I suppose the newspaper editors were hungry for graphic material, this being America's first political cartoon. Whatever the reason, Franklin's snake wiggled its way into American culture as an early symbol of a shared national identity.

American independence
The snake symbol came in handy ten years later, when Americans were again uniting against a common enemy.

In 1765 the common enemy was the Stamp Act. The British decided that they needed more control over the colonies, and more importantly, they needed more money from the colonies. The Crown was loaded with debt from the French and Indian War.

Why shouldn't the Americans -- "children planted by our care, nourished by our indulgence," as Charles Townshend of the House of Commons put it -- pay off England's debt?

Colonel Isaac Barre, who had fought in the French and Indian War, responded that the colonies hadn't been planted by the care of the British government, they'd been established by people fleeing it. And the British government hadn't nourished the colonies, they'd flourished despite what the British government did and didn't do. In this speech, Barre referred to the colonists as "sons of liberty."

In the following months and years, as we know, the Sons of Liberty became increasingly resentful of English interference. And as the tides of American public opinion moved closer and closer to rebellion, Franklin's disjointed snake continued to be used as symbol of American unity, and American independence. For example, in 1774 Paul Revere added it to the masthead of The Massachusetts Spy and showed the snake fighting a British dragon.

Benjamin Franklin diverts an idle hour

In December 1775, "An American Guesser" anonymously wrote to the Pennsylvania Journal:
I observed on one of the drums belonging to the marines now raising, there was
painted a Rattle-Snake, with this modest motto under it, 'Don't tread on me.' As
I know it is the custom to have some device on the arms of every country, I
supposed this may have been intended for the arms of America.


This anonymous writer, having "nothing to do with public affairs" and "in order to divert an idle hour," speculated on why a snake might be chosen as a symbol for America.
First, it occurred to him that "the Rattle-Snake is found in no other quarter of the world besides America." The rattlesnake also has sharp eyes, and "may therefore be esteemed an emblem of vigilance." Furthermore, "She never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, ever surrenders: She is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage. ... she never wounds 'till she has generously given notice, even to her enemy, and cautioned him against the danger of treading on her." Finally,
I confess I was wholly at a loss what to make of the rattles, 'till I went back
and counted them and found them just thirteen, exactly the number of the
Colonies united in America; and I recollected too that this was the only part of
the Snake which increased in numbers. ... 'Tis curious and amazing to
observe how distinct and independent of each other the rattles of this animal
are, and yet how firmly they are united together, so as never to be separated
but by breaking them to pieces. One of those rattles singly, is incapable of
producing sound, but the ringing of thirteen together, is sufficient to alarm
the boldest man living.
Many scholars now agree that this "American Guesser" was Benjamin Franklin.
Franklin, of course, is also known for opposing the use of an eagle -- "a bird of bad moral character" -- as a national symbol.