lvB's trios are much neater
<<<<<<<<<<
Quatsch wird gelöscht, ohne gelesen zu werden
真実 пора
Kerem jojjenek maskor es kulonosen masho
הִשְׁתַּדֵּל הִזְדַּקֵּן
palma, a paolo shaul םֹשׁ ְרֵגּ
On Thu, Dec 17, 2020 at 11:11 PM <epostboxx@xxxxxxxx> wrote:
For some time now I've had a long passage from Forster's HOWARD'S END
(Chapter 5) in my DRAFTS mailbox, meaning (it being Beethoven's 250th
'birthday' this year) to comment on it in light of an essay I found on the
internet.
Somehow I've not got around to that commentary, but seeing that it's
Beethoven's birthday (or, at any rate, 'christening day') today, I thought
I'd just post the passage and a link to the essay. Make of them what you
will (but do celebrate the genius of Beethoven someway or other) ...
From HOWARD'S END:
"For the Andante had begun--very beautiful, but bearing a family likeness
to all the other beautiful Andantes that Beethoven had written, and, to
Helen's mind, rather disconnecting the heroes and shipwrecks of the first
movement from the heroes and goblins of the third. She heard the tune
through once, and then her attention wandered, and she gazed at the
audience, or the organ, or the architecture. Much did she censure the
attenuated Cupids who encircle the ceiling of the Queen's Hall, inclining
each to each with vapid gesture, and clad in sallow pantaloons, on which
the October sunlight struck. 'How awful to marry a man like those Cupids!'
thought Helen. Here Beethoven started decorating his tune, so she heard him
through once more, and then she smiled at her Cousin Frieda. But Frieda,
listening to Classical Music, could not respond. Herr Liesecke, too, looked
as if wild horses could not make him inattentive; there were lines across
his forehead, his lips were parted, his pince-nez at right angles to his
nose, and he had laid a thick, white hand on either knee. And next to her
was Aunt Juley, so British, and wanting to tap. How interesting that row of
people was! What diverse influences had gone to the making! Here Beethoven,
after humming and hawing with great sweetness, said 'Heigho,' and the
Andante came to an end. Applause, and a round of 'wunderschöning' and
pracht volleying from the German contingent. Margaret started talking to
her new young man; Helen said to her aunt: 'Now comes the wonderful
movement: first of all the goblins, and then a trio of elephants dancing';
and Tibby implored the company generally to look out for the transitional
passage on the drum.
"'On the what, dear?'
"'On the drum, Aunt Juley.'
"'No; look out for the part where you think you have done with the goblins
and they come back,' breathed Helen, as the music started with a goblin
walking quietly over the universe, from end to end. Others followed him.
They were not aggressive creatures; it was that that made them so terrible
to Helen. They merely observed in passing that there was no such thing as
splendour or heroism in the world. After the interlude of elephants
dancing, they returned and made the observation for the second time. Helen
could not contradict them, for, once at all events, she had felt the same,
and had seen the reliable walls of youth collapse. Panic and emptiness!
Panic and emptiness! The goblins were right. Her brother raised his finger;
it was the transitional passage on the drum.
For, as if things were going too far, Beethoven took hold of the goblins
and made them do what he wanted. He appeared in person. He gave them a
little push, and they began to walk in a major key instead of in a minor,
and then--he blew with his mouth and they were scattered! Gusts of
splendour, gods and demigods contending with vast swords, colour and
fragrance broadcast on the field of battle, magnificent victory,
magnificent death! Oh, it all burst before the girl, and she even stretched
out her gloved hands as if it was tangible. Any fate was titanic; any
contest desirable; conqueror and conquered would alike be applauded by the
angels of the utmost stars.
"And the goblins--they had not really been there at all? They were only
the phantoms of cowardice and unbelief? One healthy human impulse would
dispel them? Men like the Wilcoxes, or ex-President Roosevelt, would say
yes. Beethoven knew better. The goblins really had been there. They might
return--and they did. It was as if the splendour of life might boil over
and waste to steam and froth. In its dissolution one heard the terrible,
ominous note, and a goblin, with increased malignity, walked quietly over
the universe from end to end. Panic and emptiness! Panic and emptiness!
Even the flaming ramparts of the world might fall. Beethoven chose to make
all right in the end. He built the ramparts up. He blew with his mouth for
the second time, and again the goblins were scattered. He brought back the
gusts of splendour, the heroism, the youth, the magnificence of life and of
death, and, amid vast roarings of a superhuman joy, he led his Fifth
Symphony to its conclusion. But the goblins were there. They could return.
He had said so bravely, and that is why one can trust Beethoven when he
says other things."
The essay upon which I meant to engage in dialogue:
http://irma.math.unistra.fr/~foata/anne/papers/HowardsEnd.html
Chris Bruce,
Not much in sympathy with Helen's vision of goblins, et alia,
but much in sympathy with her trust in Beethoven, in
Kiel, Germany
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