[1158] Music

My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open.
Whitely without rest,
His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
. . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
An army stormed the bastions of the air!
Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
Marching together as the lightnings march,
And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast—
Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
From the loose net of words to deeds again
And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
. . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
"How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.

 	-- Stephen Vincent Benét

I loved this poem - Benet achieves a passionate intensity that spills
through his writing, that stirs me and makes me shiver. (His "Winged Man"
[Poem #609] remains my favourite poetic discovery since we started
Minstrels.) There is, indeed, a certain measure of self-reference in today's
poem, in that it works best if you're in the same frame of mind as the
narrator is - if, like someone listening to a piece of music, you are
prepared to *feel* as much as interpret the words.

On the other hand, the poem's very intensity of emotion leaves it open to
criticism - it is very, very hard to combine a high degree of passion with
the perfect, elegant control that the ideal poem would demand, and Benet has
opted here to err on the side of passion. If someone wished, he or she could
doubtless pin the poem to a dissecting board, and examine its flaws in
minute detail. Personally, I'd rather enjoy it.

Which brings us to the other remarkable feature of today's poem - the
brilliantly crafted sting in its tail. Benet has captured a common problem -
expressions of genuine appreciation have all too often been replaced by
banalities that sound almost more dismissive than appreciative. Whether from
inarticulateness, or from a desire to appear 'sophisticated' by not being
too openly impressed, the pattern is one that I'm sure everyone has observed
at some point or the other.

And finally, this too could be self-referential - the unappreciatedness of
poets is a common poetic theme. Wonder why :)

martin

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From: "Ian Baillieu" <ianbaill@>

I think he goes over the top in presenting the mental images
evoked by the music, even though I accept that everyone's
reaction to music is subjective.   They don't bring to my
mind any coherent piano piece that I know of or can imagine,
let alone any that makes one feel 'godlike'.

Perhaps he would have done better not to have got stuck in
the tramlines of using rhyming couplets.  The rhymes don't
enhance those images, nor do they add much that's musically
memorable to the poem itself.  They seem to be there just as
technicalities, for technicality's sake.

Also, given that the point of view throughout is that of the
same first person, I find the abrupt descent at the end from
those images, and being 'shaken like a harp', and
self-declared godlike feeling, to a mere indifferent "How
pretty", unconvincing in portraying either the narrator's
emotion or the way that masterly artistry can sometimes pass
unappreciated.

IMO that concept is much better and more memorably expressed
in parts of Robert Browning's unquestionably superior poem
'A Toccata of Galuppi's'  [poem # 526].

From: "Kathy T. Wehrenberg" <kathywehrenberg@>

This poem appeals to me as a pianist and poet.  Making a similar attempt
to describe the urgency of music as it marks the passing time, I wrote a
surreal poem The Page Turner (which can be found at
http://authorsden.com/kathywehrenberg ) that pales in comparison.
Obviously his friend is playing Liszt.  The sharp sword metaphors of
storminess & loud noise the poem uses are equivalent to what I feel when
I listen to this type of piano music.  The rhymes don't bother me
(usually I don't care for rhyming) because they're swallowed up by the
dense, jolting flow of the text in between.  I like "whitely" --
applies to the music book, I guess.  And how visual is "purple seas."
The audience reaction at the end is perfect for my experience.  Yes,
people resort to cliches and understatements largely because they don't
feel music as intensely as composers' daughters like me.  The closure is
ironic and makes its point.  What I learned from this poem is you have
to exaggerate when dealing with subjects like Liszt (?) piano music.

From: Martin DeMello <martindemello@>

--- Ian Baillieu <ianbaill@> wrote:
> I think he goes over the top in presenting the mental images
> evoked by the music, even though I accept that everyone's
> reaction to music is subjective.   They don't bring to my
> mind any coherent piano piece that I know of or can imagine,
> let alone any that makes one feel 'godlike'.

Point conceded - it certainly doesn't evoke any piano piece I've heard,
though I can imagine something suitably crashing and Wagnerian.
Nonetheless, I had no problems with the metaphors - I read it as being
more symbolic of the effect the music had on him, than of any actual
mental images conjured up. Incoherent, yes, but it was a magnificent
incoherence.

> Perhaps he would have done better not to have got stuck in
> the tramlines of using rhyming couplets.  The rhymes don't
> enhance those images, nor do they add much that's musically
> memorable to the poem itself.  They seem to be there just as
> technicalities, for technicality's sake.

I disagree. IMO, the rhyming couplets serve to pace the poem, and they
give it a definite sense of escalation - each couplet building upon the
last in a way isolated lines do not. For similar couplet-induced pacing,
compare The Camp [Poem #209] (again, a nice blend of coherence and
incoherence) and From a Railway Carriage [Poem #84].

> Also, given that the point of view throughout is that of the
> same first person, I find the abrupt descent at the end from
> those images, and being 'shaken like a harp', and

Here I fully agree with you - 'The last chord shook me as wind shakes a
harp!' was an altogether terrible line, and quite jarring in its change
of voice.

> self-declared godlike feeling, to a mere indifferent "How
> pretty", unconvincing in portraying either the narrator's
> emotion or the way that masterly artistry can sometimes pass
> unappreciated.

I thought the 'how pretty' a tellingly accurate depiction of audience
behaviour. Not necessarily a lack of appreciation, but a lack of
expression of that appreciation, whether from a fear of seeming too
easily impressed, or from a poverty of language in which to couch that
expression.

> IMO that concept is much better and more memorably expressed
> in parts of Robert Browning's unquestionably superior poem
> 'A Toccata of Galuppi's'  [poem #526].

Browning's poem was unquestionably brilliant (and, yes, a superior
poem), but despite the similarity of subject matter, I wouldn't compare
it directly to today's. I'd compare "Music" more closely to Kipling's
"The Sea and the Hills" [Poem #29], both for the larger-than-life (or
'overblown' if you wish) images, and for the twist in the last line. Of
course, Kipling's was the far better poem, but I loved Benet's too.

martin

p.s. Okay, I can't resist - it was an extremely evocative poem :)