Intro & Preface & Contents
Previous: Winter XXIV. Time and money
The dark days are drawing to an end. Soon it will be spring once more; I shall go out into the fields, and shake away these thoughts of discouragement and fear which have lately too much haunted my fireside. For me, it is a virtue to be self-centred; I am much better employed, from every point of view, when I live solely for my own satisfaction, than when I begin to worry about the world. The world frightens me, and a frightened man is no good for anything. I know only one way in which I could have played a meritorious part as an active citizen -- by becoming a schoolmaster in some little country town, and teaching half a dozen teachable boys to love study for its own sake. That I could have done, I daresay, Yet, no; for I must have had as a young man the same mind that I have in age, devoid of idle ambitious, undisturbed by unattainable ideals. Living as I do now, I deserve better of my country than at any time in my working life; better, I suspect, than most of those who are praised for busy patriotism.
Not that I regard my life as an example for any one else; all I can say is, that it is good for me, and in so far an advantage to the world. To live in quiet content is surely a piece of good citizenship. If you can do more, do it, and God-speed! I know myself for an exception. And I ever find it a good antidote to gloomy thoughts to bring before my imagination the lives of men, utterly unlike me in their minds and circumstances, who give themselves with glad and hopeful energy to the plain duties that lie before them. However one’s heart may fail in thinking of the folly and baseness which make so great a part of to-day’s world, remember how many bright souls are living courageously, seeing the good wherever it may be discovered, undismayed by portents, doing what they have to do with all their strength. In every land there are such, no few of them, a great brotherhood, without distinction of race or faith; for they, indeed, constitute the race of man, rightly designated, and their faith is one, the cult of reason and of justice. Whether the future is to them or to the talking anthropoid, no one can say. But they live and labour, guarding the fire of sacred hope....
Alpha.
This section reminds me of Settembrini in The Magic Mountain, hard at work on his Encyclopedia of Suffering. The key phrase here may be “teachable boys.” The use of “teachable” I approve. The notion that educating everyone, in this sense, is absurd. But, again, limiting this education to boys is missing a great opportunity. It is easy enough to write this off as being a sign of the times, but he has, presumably read Austen and Sand and other women. He (Ryecroft or Gissing) really should know better than this.
Beauty.
...beauty consists of its own passing, just as we reach for it. It’s the ephemeral configuration of things in the moment, when you can see both their beauty and their death.
Oh my gosh, I thought, does this mean that this is how we must live our lives? Constantly poised between beauty and death, between movement and its disappearance?
Maybe that’s what being alive is all about: so we can track down those moments that are dying.
-Paloma in The Elegance of the Hedgehog
There’s a passage in one of Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City novels where we learn that prostitutes dislike cut flowers for the grim symbolism -- beauty cut down in its prime and destined to quickly shrivel and die. True or not, this is a compelling aspect of natural beauty in general and feminine beauty in particular. How much does the ephemeral nature of beauty contribute to our appreciation? Would a cherry tree in bloom, or a Japanese maple in its full autumn finery, be so compelling if it’s time was not so limited? Is the aesthetic feeling of the person from the stable tropics different than that of the dweller of temperate lands with distinct seasons?
Just as “happily ever after” makes for a poor story, is lovely forever the end of a certain appreciation of beauty?
And while we have both “happily ever after” and The Elegance of the Hedgehog in mind, I need to SPOILER the paragraphs below for people who have not finished Hedgehog and think they might read it at some time in the future. You are warned!
Hedgehog, in my view, is a lovely novel about beauty, perception, and death. I have just reread the fateful scene, but not yet it’s denouement. This reading I have particularly noticed how well the author has prepared us for this -- though always with a strong dash of misdirection. Renee has mourned the anticipated departure of Manuela. Paloma has envisioned how her death will shake up her family and neighbors. We have been told, by Paloma, that the most important thing is what you are doing when you die. We have been told by Renee, just a few pages ago, “... I am weary. Something must come to end; something must begin.”
By coincidence (?) I am also re-watching -- yet again -- the final episodes of the TV show Dead Like Me. The premise of Dead Like Me is that certain people, after they die, get to stay on earth (with a different physical appearance) as Grim Reapers -- they take the souls of people just before they die. The Reapers are supposed to keep to themselves and not get involved with the living, and especially not with the dying, but on occasion they do favors for the dying or make their ends a little more pleasant.
Novelists are, if you think about it, often Grim Reapers of the characters they’ve created. Is it kind or cruel to kill off your character just as she can see her “happily ever after?” Ignoring for the moment that, besides being boring, “happily ever after” is most often an illusion, I think it’s generous for the author (Creator, if you wish) to let the character (like Moses) see the destination. In this case, the character has mostly arrived at that destination. I would give Barbery credit for being a kind and generous Reaper. In that character's own words, at the time of her death, “I had met another, and was prepared to love.” I seem to recall Ryecroft saying, early on (of course I can't find it now) that happiness is as satisfying for a short period of time as for a long period of time. I can see the truth in this while still thinking that more happiness might be at least a little better. But in literary terms, this claim is definitely true.
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