Sunday, 25 November 2012

Atheism/Character




"La perception d'un ange ou d'un dieu n'a pas de sens pour moi. Ce lieu géométrique où la raison divine ratifie la mienne m'est pour toujours incompréhensible."

- Camus, Le mythe de Sisyphe , p.68 (ISBN 9782070322886)


"The perception of an angel or a god has no meaning for me. That geometrical spot where divine reason ratifies mine will always be incomprehensible to me."

- The Myth of Sisyphus , p.47, trans. Justin O'Brien (ISBN 9780141182001)





Voltaire (1694-1778)

"Caractère

Du mot grec impression, gravure . C'est que la nature a gravé dans nous. Pouvons-nous l'effacer ? grande question. Si j'ai un nez de travers et deux yeux de chat, je peux les cacher avec un masque. Puis-je davantage sur le caractère que m'a donné la nature ?"

- Voltaire, Dictionnaire philosophique  (Garnier Frères 1967)


"Character

From the Greek word impression, engraving. It is what nature has engraved in us. Can we efface it ? Vast question. If I have a hooked nose & two cat's eyes I can hide them with a mask. Can I do better with the character nature has given me ?"

- Philosophical Dictionary, p.75, trans. Theodore Besterman, (ISBN 014044257X)



For some time Man has not been satisfied by what is in front of him, by what is really there, by the sky, the earth, the sun, the moon, the stars, the sea. He has so often felt he has to create something or someone behind or above it all. This something or someone he makes in his own image, & then genuinely feels that the thing he made, made him. What evidence is there that Man made God or the gods & not the other way round ? One indication is the startling resemblance between a given God or gods & those that worship Him or them. As Xenophanes (c.570-c.478 BCE) wrote at the very dawn of philosophy:


"Ethiopians say their gods are snub-nosed & black;
Thracians that theirs are blue-eyed & red-haired."

- Fragment 16

"But if horses or oxen or lions had hands
or could draw with their hands & accomplish such works as men,
horses would draw the figures of the gods as similar to horses, & the oxen as similar to oxen,
& they would make the bodies
of the sort which each of them had."

- Fragment 15

-  Xenophanes, Fragments , trans. J.H.Lesher (ISBN 0802085083)


In worshipping a god, people are worshipping their own projection. This remains true whether the god in question is conceived in the most concrete or the most abstract terms, & everywhere in between.

The Universe is nothing but an unfolding process. It has no intention as far as Man is concerned. Therefore there is no Providence, no Destiny, no Doom & no Fate, except in so far as fate is character & vice versa. There is no heaven, no hell, no Last Judgement, no afterlife whatsoever, no reincarnation, no transmigration of souls. There is no soul except to the extent that soul  is a synonym for individual consciousness . However, I must admit here that as far as I know at this time none of the sciences are able to explain either the origin or the precise nature of consciousness.

That leaves the form of life after death called Fame or Reputation, which was an absolutely crucial part of the Heroic Ideal. The Warrior took satisfaction & inspiration from the expectation that his great deeds would be remembered & celebrated by generations to come, whether it be Achilles or Beowulf or their counterparts in real life. As you can see, I disagree with the Stoics in general about the existence of Providence & with Marcus Aurelius in particular about the real existence of the gods, on which point he is most insistent, e.g. Mediations, Book 12, 28. However, I agree wholeheartedly with another of Marcus' themes, which is the complete meaninglessness of posthumous fame. For instance, the following:


"30. Look down from above on the numberless herds of mankind, with their mysterious ceremonies, their divers voyagings in storm & calm, & all the chequered pattern of their comings & gatherings & goings. Go on to consider the life of bygone generations; & then the life of all those who are yet to come; & even at the present day, the life of the hordes of far-off savages. In short, reflect what multitudes there are who are ignorant of your very name; how many more will have speedily forgotten it; how many, perhaps praising you now, who will soon enough be abusing you; & that therefore remembrance, glory, & all else together are things of no worth."

- Meditations , Book 9


I think that was true when Marcus wrote it, & it's even more true today, when there are so many more people. More succinctly:


"35. All of us are creatures of a day; the rememberer & the remembered alike."

- Meditations , Book 4


Picking up the point about fate being character, by fate is character  I mean that one's fate is the outcome of one's character or personality, & is alterable to the extent they are. But as to the Fates of classical mythology, or the Norns, or some suprapersonal force separate from Man himself deciding how things will go for you, what happens to you - no. The fate of a nation or culture is determined in exactly the same way, it is an outcome in time of the character or personality of that nation or culture.




I want to finish with a long quote from Voltaire, on the subject of character & the extent to which it is possible to change it.  It is the last 2 paragraphs from his entry in his Dictionnaire philosophique  on Character, the start of which is quoted beneath his portrait above: you can find the French text in the edition referred to there. I am often wary of Voltaire's views in his writing, because he is the Devil himself for mixing fact & opinion so they cannot be separated. This quote ends with two illustrative anecdotes; I'm not sure how far I agree with Voltaire's point here, but I think they are very funny:


"Age weakens the character; it is a tree that produces nothing but a few degenerate fruits, but they are still of the same kind; it gets to be covered with knots & moss, it becomes worm-eaten, but it is still an oak or a pear tree. If we could change our character we would give ourselves one, we would be masters of nature. Can we give ourselves something ? Do we not receive everything ? Try to arouse continuous activity in an indolent mass, to freeze with apathy the boiling soul of the impetuous, to inspire a taste for music & poetry into one who lacks taste & an ear: you will no more succeed than if you undertook to give sight to one born blind. We perfect, we mitigate, we hide what nature has placed in us; but we place nothing in ourselves.

A farmer was told: 'You have too many fish in this pond, they will not thrive; there are too many animals in your fields, there is not enough grass, they will lose weight.' After this exhortation it so happened that pike ate half my man's carp, & wolves half of his sheep; the rest fattened. Will he congratulate himself on his management ? This countryman is you yourself; one of your passions devours the others & you think you have triumphed over yourself. Do we not really all resemble the old general of ninety who, coming across some young officers who were causing a disturbance with some women of the town, said in a temper: 'Gentlemen, is this the example I give you ?'


'Sisyphus' by Titian







Sunday, 18 November 2012

The Well-Read Man

An Imitation of Harold Pinter's The Birthday Party



 "C'est ainsi que bâille d'avance d'ennui un lettré à qui on parle d'un nouveau << beau livre >>, parce qu'il imagine une sorte de composé de tous les beaux livres qu'il a lus, tandis qu'un beau livre est particulier, imprévisible, et n'est pas fait de la somme de tous les chefs-d'oeuvre précédents mais de quelque chose que s'être parfaitement assimilé cette somme ne suffit nullement à faire trouver, car c'est justement en dehors d'elle. Dès qu'il a eu connaissance de cette nouvelle oeuvre, le lettré, tout à l'heure blasé, se sent de l'intérêt pour la réalité qu'elle dépeint."
                        - Marcel Proust, Nom de pays: le pays , p.23 (ISBN 9782080704696)


"So it is that a well-read man will at once begin to yawn with boredom when one speaks to him of a new 'good book', because he imagines a sort of composite of all the good books he has read, whereas a good book is something special, something unforeseeable, & is made up not of the sum of all previous masterpieces but of something which the most thorough assimilation of every one of them would not enable him to discover, since it exists not in their sum but beyond it. Once he has become acquainted with this new work, the well-read man, however jaded his palate, feels his interest awaken in the reality which it depicts."
                       - Place-Names: the Place , trans. C. K. Scott Moncrieff & Terence Kilmartin, p. 705 (ISBN 0140182225). Proust here making a plea for readers for A la recherche du temps perdu as well as a valid point.



"You've been with the professors & they've all liked your looks

 With great lawyers you have discussed lepers & crooks

 You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books

 You're very well-read, it's well known."

- Bob Dylan, Ballad of a Thin Man



Scene: A ground floor flat in Oxford. In the middle of the stage is a sofa which seats three, facing the audience. There is a pile of books by the end of the sofa L. At the back L is a large bookcase full of books. (These are the essential elements. Any other clutter may be added in the flat as the imagination of the designer & resources allow.) To the far R is a street door, bedroom door in the back wall, & door to the kitchen far L.

A man in his mid-twenties called Chris Andrews who looks like a student is sitting in the middle of the sofa reading. We can see he is on the last few pages of his book. There is a mug next to him. He reads intently, turning the pages every so often. This may be done in real time if desired; there's no rush. Finally he finishes, closes the book & puts it on top of the pile of books by the sofa. The book is this -  the Oxford World's Classics edition of  Le Morte d'Arthur, ISBN 9780199537341 - http://ukcatalogue.oup.com/product/9780199537341.do#.UKk5RHaP8y0  I draw your attention to the 2nd sentence of the 2nd paragraph of the blurb.


CHRIS (sounding very pleased with himself ): Finished !


He picks up the cup & exits through the kitchen door.

There is a loud knock from outside on the street door. CHRIS reappears looking puzzled & quickly opens the door. Two smartly dressed men push past him & are immediately in the room. CHRIS stands rather helplessly in the middle of the stage.


CHRIS: Uh - can I help you ?

TEXTE: Mr Andrews ?

CHRIS: Yes.

TEXTE: Mr Chris  Andrews ?

CHRIS: Yes.

TEXTE: Ah, that's a relief. (to INTEGRAL) At least we've got the right house. (to CHRIS, beaming with his arms outstretched ) And the right man !


INTEGRAL sits down on the left side of the sofa. TEXTE crosses to the bookcase & begins to study the books. 


TEXTE (to himself ): Mr Andrews. Mr Chris Andrews. (turning to CHRIS) No less !

CHRIS (bewildered ): Can I help you ?

TEXTE: Marvellous thing a library. Just like my old dad used to say to me. 'Simey', he used to say to me, 'take my tip, there is no resource like a well-stocked library'. Wonderful man he was. Pillar of the community.

CHRIS: Who are you ? What are you doing in my flat ?


No reply.


CHRIS: What are you doing in my flat ?

TEXTE: You're quite right, Chris - you don't mind if we call you Chris ? - we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Mr Texte & this is Mr Integral. As to what we're doing here . . . I think you know.

CHRIS: I don't.

TEXTE (wagging his finger): Come come now, you know what we're doing here, surely you know.

CHRIS: I don't. I've got no idea.

TEXTE (to INTEGRAL): Shall I give him a hint ?

INTEGRAL: Give him a hint.

TEXTE: This is fun ! Almost like a game. A guessing game. Well. Let's say it's got something to do with a certain book.

CHRIS: A certain book ?

TEXTE: A certain book. A particular book. A most particular book that you . . . ah . . . (to INTEGRAL) how shall I put this ?

INTEGRAL (picking up the book from the top of the pile that  CHRIS had put there & waving it at him): It's this book. This book. This book you've just (spitting the word out) finished.

CHRIS: Malory ?

TEXTE: Malory. Precisely. (INTEGRAL throws him the book. He reads the front cover .) "Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte d'Arthur, The Winchester Manuscript." It's come to our attention that you had just finished this book.

CHRIS: Come to your attention ?

TEXTE: Our attention. yes.

CHRIS: How ?

TEXTE (approaching CHRIS & standing too near to him L): Do you regard yourself as having read Malory ?

CHRIS: What do you mean ?


INTEGRAL also gets up & comes to stand too close to CHRIS on the R, boxing him in.


INTEGRAL: Malory ! Malory ! Are you stupid or something ? Do you regard yourself as having read Malory ?

CHRIS: Well, I just finished it, didn't I ?

TEXTE: But there's a problem.

INTEGRAL: A hitch.

TEXTE: A drawback.

INTEGRAL: A fly in the ointment.

TEXTE: A great big fly.

CHRIS: Look. Why don't you leave me alone ? . . . there's nothing for you here.

TEXTE: Silence ! (Pause .) This text of Malory, (sneering) this one you've just read . . . it's abridged !

CHRIS: Abriged ?

TEXTE: Edited.

INTEGRAL: Reduced.

TEXTE: Filleted.

INTEGRAL: Pasteurised.

CHRIS: What ?

TEXTE: They cut the battle scenes. The editor cut the battle scenes. Too boring apparently.

CHRIS: Well . . .

TEXTE: So our point is, you can't really consider yourself to have read Le Morte d'Arthur. Since this edition is abridged. But that's not the whole of our concern. It's also come to our attention - it's also come to our attention that you regard yourself as a well-read man.

INTEGRAL: An intellectual.

TEXTE: A scholar.

INTEGRAL: Omnicompetent.

TEXTE: A master of the arts. But we know the truth, Adams ! We're on to you ! Your pretensions curt no ice with us. You're a fraud !

CHRIS: A fraud ?

INTEGRAL: So he admits it !

TEXTE (pacing up & down): A handsome confession. We're here to sound you, Adams, from top to bottom. To investigate you. To make you realise the falsity of your claims, (pointing at  CHRIS) even your unuttered ones ! You eat baby food !

INTEGRAL: He likes it !

CHRIS (feebly ): I am quite well-read, you know.


TEXTE comes to a halt by the bookcase L.


INTEGRAL: Well-read ! About the only thing he reads is The Daily Mail !

TEXTE: The match reports.

INTEGRAL: The gossip columns.

TEXTE: The celebrity news.

INTEGRAL: He's lucky if he can make it through the occasional copy of Heat !

CHRIS (gesturing at the bookcase ): But what about those ?

TEXTE: Those ?

INTEGRAL (scornfully ) Those !

TEXTE: The books ? You mean the books ? (moving back to box CHRIS in again) Possession is one thing, Adams, mastery of contents quite another. Have you ever read Herodotus ?

CHRIS: I've glanced at it, yes.

INTEGRAL: Glanced at it ! Glanced at it ! What about Boccaccio ?

TEXTE: The Arabian Nights ?

INTEGRAL: Don Quixote ?

TEXTE: Hypnerotomachia Poliphili ?

INTEGRAL: Malleus Maleficarum ?

TEXTE: On The Origin of Species ?

INTEGRAL: Apologia Pro Vita Sua ?

CHRIS: Uhhhh . . . uhhhhhn . . .


CHRIS breaks away & dashes to sit in the middle of the sofa. He rocks back & forth as TEXTE (L) & INTEGRAL (R) stand at either side & berate him.


TEXTE: De Civitate Dei ?

INTEGRAL: Augustine's Confessions ?

TEXTE: Rousseau's ditto ?

INTEGRAL: Le rouge et le noir ?

TEXTE: Les liaisons dangereuses ?

INTEGRAL: Dictionnaire philosophique ?

TEXTE: A Tale of Two Cities ?

INTEGRAL: Huckleberry Finn ?

TEXTE: Bede's History ?

CHRIS (shouting): I have read that one !

TEXTE: In Latin ?

INTEGRAL: In Urdu ?

TEXTE: In Sanskrit ?

INTEGRAL: In Farsi ?

TEXTE: He won't answer !

INTEGRAL: He CAN'T answer !

CHRIS: I . . . I . . . I . . . I . . .

TEXTE (bending forwards): Yes ?

CHRIS (shoulders sagging): I . . . I haven't read those books you mention. I suppose I am rather a fraud. I DID think I was well-read.

TEXTE (patting him on the shoulder ): There, there - that's it - there, there; (Straightening up ). We're here to purge your soul, Adams, intellectually speaking. Yes, to clean your soul. We'll make it clean as a whistle !

INTEGRAL: As the driven snow.

TEXTE: As the undriven snow.

INTEGRAL: Glistening silently on the fields & on the streets.

TEXTE: I couldn't have put it better myself !


Pause.


CHRIS: Somehow I seem to see myself as I really am now. I'm diminished but also . . .

TEXTE: More real ?

CHRIS: More real. Yes. So many pretences dropped away. Who needs that weight anyway ? How can I ever thank you ?

TEXTE: Thank us ? There's no need to thank us. Besides which you might find it rather difficult. You see - (expansively ) We're not even here !

CHRIS (looking up in astonishment): Not even here ?


                          BLACKOUT












































               

Saturday, 3 November 2012

Camus & Painting





Albert Camus (1913-60)




Camus liked referring to paintings in his writing.

For example, the sly & comical way he introduces Van Eyck's The Just Judges into La Chute (The Fall )*.

The Just Judges (full length)


 (Here is the link for that image above. You can see it in another screen & click on it to enlarge it: http://framingpainting.com/Uploadpic/Jan%20van%20Eyck/big/The%20Ghent%20Altarpiece%20The%20Just%20Judges.jpg )

The Just Judges (the group of figures)


"    A propos, voulez-vous ouvrir ce placard, s'il vous plaît. Ce tableau oui, regardez-le. Ne le reconnaissez-vous pas ? Ce sont Les juges intègres . Vous ne sursautez pas ? Votre culture aurait donc des trous ? Si vous lisiez pourtant les journaux, vous vous rapelleriez le vol, en 1934, à Gand, dans la cathédrale Saint-Bavon, d'un des panneaux du fameux retable de Van Eyck, L'Agneau mystique . Ce panneau s'appelait Les Juges intègres . Il représentait des juges à cheval venant adorer le saint animal. On l'a remplacé par une excellente copie, car l'original est demeuré introuvable. Eh bien, le voici. Non, je n'y suis pour rien. Un habitué de Mexico-City , que vous avez aperçu l'autre soir, l'a vendu pour une bouteille au gorille, un soir d'ivresse. J'ai d'abord conseillé à notre ami de l'accrocher en bonne place et longtemps, pendant qu'on les recherchait dans le monde entier, nos juges dévots ont trôné à Mexico-City , au-dessus des ivrognes et des souteneurs. Puis le gorille, sur ma demande, l'a mis en dépôt ici. Il rechignait un peu à le faire, mais il a pris peur quand je lui ai expliqué l'affaire. Depuis, ces estimables magistrats font ma seule compagnie. Là-bas, au-dessus du comptoir, vous avez vu quel vide ils ont laissé."

- La Chute , p. 134-5, Editions Gallimard


"By the way, will you please open that cupboard ? Yes, look at that painting. Don't you recognise it ? It is The Just Judges. That doesn't make you jump ? Can it be that your culture has gaps ? Yet if you read the papers, you would recall the theft in 1934, from the Saint-Bavon cathedral at Ghent, of one of the panels of the famous Van Eyck altarpiece, The Adoration of the Lamb . That panel was called The Just Judges . It represented judges on horseback coming to adore the sacred animal. It was replaced by an excellent copy, for the original was never found. Well, here it is. No, I had nothing to do with it. A frequenter of Mexico City  - you had a glimpse of him the other evening - sold it to the gorilla for a bottle, one drunken evening. I first advised our friend to hang it in a place of honour, & for a long time, while they were being looked for throughout the world, our devout judges sat enthroned at Mexico City  above the drunkards & the pimps. Then the gorilla, at my request, put it in custody here. He baulked a little at doing so, but he got a fright when I explained the matter to him. Since then, these worthy magistrates form my sole company. At Mexico City , above the bar, you saw what a void they left."

- The Fall , p.94-5, Penguin 1963, trans. Justin O'Brien


[*La Chute  consists of a monologue by a man called Jean-Baptiste Clamence addressed over some time & in different circumstances to a companion who you never find out who it is exactly: in effect the reader is this companion, the one being talked to. To describe La Chute some more, I am going to quote the blurb on the back of my English edition: "Jean-Baptiste Clamence, a successful Paris barrister, appeared to himself & to others the epitome of good citizenship & decent behaviour. Suddenly a handful of circumstances explode his sleek self-esteem, & he sees through the deep-seated hypocrisy of his existence to the condescension which motivates his every action. Running from this discovery first into debauchery, then into self-judgement, he finally settles in the fog-bound wilderness of Amsterdam's waterfront where, a self-styled 'judge penitent', he describes his fall to a chance acquaintance." Mexico City  is the name of the bar Clamence frequents, & where he first meets the person who is the addressee of the novel. The Gorilla is the owner/barman of the Mexico City .]


The Adoration of the Lamb aka The Ghent Altarpiece by Jan & Hubert van Eyck, completed 1432. You can see The Just Judges bottom far left.

Re-reading the book for this piece, I found that Clamence points out the place where a painting has been hanging but isn't any more above the bar in Mexico City  to the unknown person he is speaking to in the 3rd paragraph of the book when they first meet. The section quoted above is from near the end of the novel. The Just Judges really was stolen in 1934, it wasn't recovered when Camus wrote the book, & in fact it has never been recovered. It was replaced by a copy in 1945.


Man in a Red Turban by Jan van Eyck, 1433. Some scholars think this is a self-portrait.

The spark for this piece came from my delight at finding the following in Camus' essay Sketch of One of the Elect° : it is one person I love, Camus, referring to another I love, Piero della Francesca. (I don't have the French text for this.)



Frederico da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino by Piero della Francesca, c.1472-4


"It would be puerile to exaggerate the meaning of these confessions. They are the significant shadows of the portrait, the fold of the lip which Piero della Francesca gave to the Duke d'Urbino. It would be nothing without the rest, the hard eyes, the imperious nose, & even the landscape in the background. But, without it, the face would lose its secret & its humanity."

°from 'Lyrical & Critical', Hamish Hamilton 1967, trans. Philip Thody