Duty Well Performed: The Twenty-First Ohio Volunteer Infantry in the Civil War, by Bradley Quinlin & Joshua Haugh

Posted June 11, 2017 by Don
Categories: Book reviews

I awoke under the bronze of winged monuments,
Under the griffins of a Masonic temple
With the dying ash of a cigar.
–Czeslaw Milosz, “The Spirit of the Laws”

This short bit of history records the activity of an Ohio Regiment in the Civil War. A few months of garrison duty around Nashville in late 1862 was the preparation for the Battle of Stones River. They recovered in Murfreesboro for six months before marching south and taking part in the Battle of Chickamauga. There were some months of rest near Chattanooga before invading Georgia and serving minor roles in the Atlanta campaign. Some members reached the end of a three-year term in September 1864 and went home, while the others marched to Savannah in time for Christmas.

When the war ended, the Twenty-First Ohio was somewhere near Bentonville, North Carolina. A grateful nation called them to the capital for the Grand Review, and they did their duty, marching to Alexandria, Virginia, in twenty days. This was a little harder work than the annual visits of national champion athletes to D.C. for a group photo.

The Grand Review took two days. The last General Order of Lt. Col. Arnold McMahan began, “Comrades:–Our services are no longer required.”

 

Horseshoe Ridge, Chickamauga

 

“The Concept of History, Ancient and Modern,” by Hannah Arendt

Posted June 6, 2017 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Germany

–All history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
–Mr. Deasy, Ulysses

To Herodotus, history’s purpose was “to preserve that which owes its existence to men.” The subject of history is the outstanding deed that breaks the circular motion of life. It keeps alive what otherwise would fade away.

“Greatness was easily recognizable as that which by itself aspired to immortality–that is, negatively speaking, as a heroic contempt for all that merely comes and passes away, for all individual life, one’s own included. This sense of greatness could not possibly survive intact into the Christian era for the very simple reason that, according to Christian teachings, the relationship between life and world is the exact opposite to that in Greek and Latin antiquity: in Christianity neither the world nor the ever-recurring cycle of life is immortal, only the single living individual. It is the world that will pass away; men will live forever.”

The achievements of science have transformed history. Man’s power over nature has led to dominion over history: “We know today that though we cannot ‘make’ nature in the sense of creation, we are quite capable of starting new natural processes, and that in a sense therefore we ‘make nature,’ to the extent, that is, that we ‘make history.'”

Arendt does not believe that Christianity created a new view of history. The death and resurrection of Christ is treated as a singular event, but other human events remained as before–great men come and go, empires erupt and crash, and life goes on. The world will end someday at Christ’s return.

Our modern view of history begins with Hegel and has its source in the consciousness, not in events out there in the world. History is separated from the immortality of great deeds (the ancient view) and the immortality of the soul (the Christian view). History is what is useful. Marx pushed history beyond Hegel, transforming meaning and meaningfulness into ends. “But neither freedom nor any other meaning,” Arendt writes, “can ever be the product of a human activity in the sense in which the table is clearly the end-product of the carpenter’s activity.”

One wonders how much of an audience she ever really had for her style of political analysis. To really take her on, you would need to be able to judge her use of classic sources. With Unicode, we can all write Greek, even if we don’t understand it literally or in context.

This essay is in a collection entitled Between Past and Future. Other essays in the collection are worthwhile, especially Truth and Politics. This story that she tells there gets back to the question of history:

During the twenties, so a story goes, Clemenceau, shortly before his death, found himself engaged in a friendly talk with a representative of the Weimar Republic on the question of guilt for the outbreak of the First World War. “What, in your opinion,” Clemenceau was asked, “will future historians think of this troublesome and controversial issue?” He replied, “This I don’t know. But I know for certain that they will not say that Belgium invaded Germany.”

 

Vermeer, “The Art of Painting,” with model as Clio, Muse of History

The Von Hassell Diaries, by Ulrich von Hassell

Posted December 22, 2016 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Germany

You had enough of sorrow before death
Yeats, “To A Shade”

These are the notes of a Prussian who talked for years about finding some alternative to Hitler, but never succeeded.

Starting soon after his recall by Hitler from his posting as ambassador to Italy (1932-38), Hassell kept this diary of his meetings over the next six years with those of similar feeling. His position with the Mitteleuropäischer Wirtschaftstage (Middle-European Economic Conference) enabled him to travel to other countries and keep track of current events. The impression on the reader is of an old German, one who tried to accommodate with the existing regime (he joined the Nazi party when he became ambassador) while remaining true to the best traditions of his country as he saw them. The diary also records extremely valuable impressions of events as they were occurring, though filtered through the author’s own limitations of bias and opportunity to investigate. From the beginning, the diary records the beliefs of many that the Nazi regime could never last because of its official proclamation of “immoral principles.” (11) Hassell was not yet of this mind.

After Kristallnacht, he wrote on November 25, 1938: “Not since the World War have we lost so much credit in the world. But my chief concern is not with the effects abroad, not with what kind of foreign political reaction we may expect–at least not for the moment. I am most deeply troubled about the effect on our national life, which is dominated ever more inexorably by a system capable of such things.” (20) On December 20, 1938, he wrote that Goering had “condemned the progrom most sharply and openly before all the Cabinet ministers and Gauleiters,” but would not take a public stand against the SS. (25)

Throughout 1938 and 1939, a constant theme is the financial precariousness of the regime. The annexation of the Sudetenland brings in “Czech gold,” (41) but economic conditions worsen. In July, Hassell visited with former Cabinet ministers and discussed “the necessity of preparations in the event of a Nazi collapse.” (51) There were shortages of gasoline, raw materials, and food. (55) In August, he wrote: “Some people believe we must go through the catastrophe of a world war, in which the chances of defeat are 80 per cent, in order to achieve healthy conditions here at home. I cannot share this view, and consider the whole business an irresponsible adventure, both from the National Socialist point of view and from that of an enemy of the Nazi regime.” (58)

When war came, Hassell blamed England, France, and Poland itself for failing to avoid it. Remarkably, he writes that “Mussolini did all in his power to avoid war. His mediation proposal of September 2 offered no more hope of success because England no longer could or would back down.” (71) Hassell saw as early as October 11, 1939, that Hitler “secretly plans to attack Russia later.” (72) At this stage, Hassell was meeting to discuss a possible coup by the generals, Brauchitsch the most involved, with Goering as the replacement head of government, at least for a temporary period. (72) Reports of atrocities were immediately circulating, as early as October 1939. “When people use their revolvers to shoot down a group of Jews herded into a synagogue one is filled with shame.” (76)

Hassell records jokes that circulated, as always under an oppressive state: “Why doesn’t the Fuehrer visit the front any more? Because on his departure the soldiers would cry: ‘Fuehrer, we will follow you!'” (104) “[T]he temperature is still being measured according to the foreign standards of Celsius and Réamur. Hitler orders that in the future measurements be made according to the ‘German’ Fahrenheit. We thereby gain 65 degrees of heat and automatically solve the coal shortage!” (159)

In February 1940, Hassell took the audacious step of meeting with an Englishman and handing him a memo with a statement of principles for a negotiation of peace and “reconstruction of Europe,” including “principles of Christian ethics,” “justice and law as fundamental elements of public life,” and “liberty of thought, conscience, and intellectual activity,” all of which were of course lacking under Nazi control. (111)

Hassell deplores “[t]he systematic and uncontrolled killing of the so-called ‘criminally insane'” as early as November 1940. (147) In April 1941, he writes, “The Army is an incredibly brilliant instrument, with all the stronger characteristics of the German people, and filled with absolute self-confidence. It is tragic! With this magnificent instrument the destruction of Europe is being accomplished to perfection.” (171)

He records the conflict among church leaders about how to react to the attacks on religion and whether to speak out against atrocities. Bishop Galen of Münster and other “proponents of drastic action” were in the minority; the majority were opposed to open struggle. (203) Hassell’s view in 1941 was that protests had an effect, citing a protest by the Evangelical Pastors’ Association against a decree that would expel all clerics from the Red Cross because of its “interconfessional nature.” (203) Still, “The morals of the people have deteriorated through the battle against Christianity as well as through the spreading corruption and various other sinister phenomena.” (204)

Things turn personally grimmer for Hassell with the diary entry for April 27, 1942, where he records a meeting with Foreign Minister Ernst von Weizsäcker, who “carefully closed the windows and doors, and announced with some emphasis that he had a very serious matter to discuss with me. . . I had no idea, he said, how people were after me (the Gestapo). Every step I took was observed. I should certainly burn everything I had in the way of notes which covered conversations in which one or another had said this or that. Apparently he meant himself.” (232) By April 1943, Hassell knew that his phone was tapped. (269)

June 1943: “[T]he unhappy remnants of the Jews prepared to defend themselves, and there is heavy fighting which will certainly lead to their complete extermination by the SS. It is Hitler’s achievement that the German has become the most loathed animal in the whole world.” (272)

His last diary entry is July 13, 1944. He was rounded up in the investigation of the plot of July 20, 1944, and sent to Ravensbrück. His case went before the People’s Court of the notorious Judge Roland Freisler. Hassell was hanged on February 2, 1945, along with Johannes Popitz and Jesuit Fr. Delp, none of whom were directly involved in the plot.

St. Ulrich of Augsburg

St. Ulrich of Augsburg, first saint to be officially canonized

Kurt Weill: An Illustrated Life, by Jürgen Schebera

Posted October 22, 2016 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Germany, Music

If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.
–Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 14

As the title says, this biography is amply illustrated, with black-and-white photos on nearly every page of Weill, his friends and family, programs and posters, and productions. It is almost a scrapbook.

The industriousness of the man is clear. From his early years in Dessau, he was dedicated to music. Weill’s father was a cantor. In 1920, Weill went to Berlin and studied with Busoni, where he composed symphonies and other pieces in the traditional classical way. He met the dancer Karoline Blamauer in 1924. Her stage name was Lotte Lenya.

Around this same time, Weill began his collaborations with Bertolt Brecht, out of which came Weill’s most famous pieces, “The Alabama Song” (from The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny) and “Die Moritat von Mackie Messer,” otherwise known as “Mack the Knife,” from Die Dreigrochenoper.

The new powers classified Weill’s works as degenerate, and he moved on to Paris and Vienna, before sailing to the U.S. in 1935 with his second wife, Lenya (they had divorced and then remarried). He devoted himself thereafter to musical theater on Broadway. The author sympathizes with Weill’s view that opera in the U.S. consisted of “‘museum-piece’ reproductions of European works and performance styles.” Weill also worked on film scores briefly. His collaborators on Broadway included Ira Gershwin, Moss Hart, and Langston Hughes (the latter for Street Scene, maybe Weill’s most successful work from his American period). Lenya continued to perform in his shows.

Weill had no interest in returning to Germany and left his Germanness behind when he crossed the border. His Jewishness stayed with him. In March 1943, with Ben Hecht, he put on a “pageant play,” We Will Never Die, a protest against the persecution of the Jewish people. There is a great photo of Weill and Maxwell Anderson looking out for enemy planes. Weill was a volunteer Air Warden with the U.S. Army’s Aircraft Warning Service.

One is impressed at the end by his industriousness and dedication to popular music. His shows dating from his move to the U.S. haven’t really lasted, but how many shows from the 1930s and 1940s are still performed or remembered now by many?

Unlike Brecht, he stayed in the U.S. and did not return to Germany. The difference between the two men in that respect is that Brecht’s religion won out in the newly created GDR. Weill’s and Lenya’s parents made a new home in Israel. He wrote to his parents after the war, “I do not believe that in all of human history any nation has experienced as terrible a defeat as Germany–or that any people has deserved humiliation as much as these barbarians who have taken it upon themselves to destroy everything good and decent that people have achieved over millennia.”

Weill had a heart attack in 1950 and is buried in Haverstraw, just outside of New York City. Lenya was buried there after her death in 1981. They had no children.

Kurt Weill, Elmer Rice, and Langston Hughes discussing their work "Street Scene"

Kurt Weill, Elmer Rice, and Langston Hughes discussing their work “Street Scene”

 

Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music, by Deryck Cooke

Posted October 4, 2016 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Germany, Music

O’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp . . . .
Paradise Lost, II.620

This is a posthumous project, drawn from a booklet that Cooke wrote for the BBC as part of a celebration of Mahler’s one-hundredth birthday in 1960. The editors expanded the original “Mahler as Man and Artist,” drawing on Cooke’s program notes written over the years. All eleven symphonies (1-8, Das Lied von der Erde, 9, and the unfinished 10) are included, along with some early works, Des Knaben Wunderhorn, the Kindertotenlieder, and the Rückert Lieder.

The whole thing is 127 pages, including the index. There is something to be said for compactness, and how delightful with this subject! The editors have included all the texts of the free-standing songs and those that are part of the symphonies, but not a single measure of the music is reproduced.

There is a bit of biography set alongside the musical analysis. In 1895-96, Mahler used his time after the conducting season in Hamburg to work on his Third Symphony in the Austrian village of Steinbach am Attersee in the Salzburg Alps. There, he drew directly on nature for his inspiration, giving the work an initial program that read:

THE JOYFUL KNOWLEDGE
A Summer Morning’s Dream
I. Summer marches in
II. What the meadow flowers tell me
III. What the creatures of the forest tell me
IV. What night tells me (mankind)
V. What the morning bells tell me (the angels)
VI. What love tells me
VII. The heavenly life (what the child tells me)

Mahler removed that last section from the already loose baggy monster of the Third and made it the end of his charming Fourth, a setting of “Das himmlische Leben” from the Wunderhorn collection. He also discarded the program titles from what remained.

He was so immersed in nature in writing the Third that the story goes, according to his wife, Alma:

“One day in the summer he came running down from his hut in a perspiration, scarcely able to breathe. At last he came out with it: it was the heat, the stillness, the Pan-ic horror. He was overcome by this feeling of the goat-god’s frightful and vivid eye upon him in his solitude, and he had to take refuge in the house among human beings, and go on with his work there.”

 

Alma Mahler

Alma Schindler Mahler-Gropius-Werfel

 

Das Lied von der Erde (Song of the Earth) is a symphony, and like the Second, Third, Fourth, and Eighth, it includes a text. Unlike those, the text is not from Wunderhorn, the Christian liturgy, Goethe, or Klopstock, but rather from Chinese poems, as translated into German by Hans Bethge in his “The Chinese Flute.” Mahler declined to call this work his Ninth Symphony out of superstition that because Beethoven only completed nine symphonies, once he himself did so, it would be the end. So he then safely called the next symphony his Ninth (because he had written eight), but it was really the tenth one, if you’re counting symphonies. He assumed “the danger was over.” Then on to the Tenth, which he didn’t finish. That’s fate for you.

Mahler’s modernness comes through in the discussion of the Tenth Symphony. He completed a four-stave score and notes on elaboration of this “piano-duet layout” into a full score, but stopped halfway through. Cooke completed a version for performance. What is so contemporary about this is what Cooke drops as a casual detail–Mahler had left “three folders” containing drafts of two full-length movements and the first thirty bars of another. “And so he did not even begin the third stage–the elaboration of the full-score draft into the final definitive full score of the completed work. He had, however, decided on the order of the movements, having written blue-pencil roman numerals on the covers of five of the folders.” A symphony in folders! Did Richard Strauss have folders for Salome?

 

mahler-das-lied-von-der-erde-cd-cover

Das Lied von der Erde, or Symphony No. 9, as you please

Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy, by Rüdiger Safranski

Posted September 10, 2016 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Germany

There was an old person of Buda,
Whose conduct grew ruder and ruder,
Till at last with a hammer,
They silenced his clamour,
By smashing that Person of Buda.

–Edmund Lear

Kant, Fichte, Schelling, the Romantics, Hegel, Feuerbach, Marx in his youth all made some noise in the early nineteenth centuries. Reality at last was becoming knowable and malleable. These were the “wild years of philosophy.” Schopenhauer’s great work, The World as Will and Representation (1814-18), took decades to be noticed, during which time the philosopher carried on in spite of the world.

The book is a biography of Schopenhauer with a great deal of summary of his and others’ philosophies mixed in, largely with success. There would not have been a philosopher Schopenhauer but for some circumstances. His father was a merchant in Hamburg, and wanted Arthur to follow in the family business. Arthur had studied literature and preferred it to trade. The father gave Arthur a choice in 1803, when he was fifteen: He could take a tour of several months to England, Holland, France, Austria, and Switzerland to see the world’s great architecture, paintings, and sculpture, and come home to start a life of business; or, he could skip the tour and live his own life that he chose. Arthur chose the tour, but then something intervened. The father died suddenly in 1805,  giving Arthur an inheritance and the opportunity and security to study.

With his mother, Johanna, he moved to Weimar, where he met Goethe. (The mother, who wrote several novels and was not bashful about promoting her work, deserves her own biography.) Young Arthur’s discussions with Goethe on the theory of colors got his own philosophy of sensation underway.

He never married, but had a keen appreciation of women. There were several affairs, but never a serious engagement. At forty-three, he proposed to a seventeen-year-old girl. The father was flabbergasted: “But she is only a child!” Schopenhauer’s philosophy frankly admits the sex drive as one of many expressions of the “Will,’ that chaotic urge behind all things.

He was appointed lecturer at Berlin University, where he scheduled his lectures at the same time as the celebrity Hegel, as if out of spite. No one came. No one came for fifteen years. It takes a certain self-confidence to carry on in such a fashion. Eventually, Schopenhauer took a new position at Frankfurt, but remained out of sight of all but a few. He declined to be relevant or to make philosophy serve the state, as tempted Fichte and Hegel.

There were two journeys to Italy. At the Café Greco in Rome, he “would sit and irritate people.” To a group of “Nazarene-German” artistic amateurs he praised the Olympic gods. His tablemates preferred the apostles, but Schopenhauer snorted, “Spare me your twelve philistines from Jerusalem!”

He wrote for three hours every morning and for consolation, played Rossini on the flute. The author says that Schopenhauer could play all of Rossini’s works, which is saying something. His greatest influence arguably is in aesthetics. It is in contemplation of the work of art that one overcomes the Wahn (madness, as Hans Sachs sings) of hither-and-yon activity. This attitude is all over Thomas Mann and James Joyce, to name two. Think of Stephen Dedalus explaining the artist to Lynch, “indifferent, paring his fingernails.”

There is only passing mention of Wagner in the book. Schopenhauer would be Wagner’s greatest philosophical influence. If one were to look for a “Schopenhauer for Dummies,” this would not be the book to read. Instead, take in the Tristan Prelude. Nietzsche called it the heartbeat of the Will.

Ludwig and Malvina Schnorr von Carolsfeld in the first production of Tristan und Isolde, Munich 1865

Ludwig and Malvina Schnorr von Carolsfeld in the first production of Tristan und Isolde, Munich 1865

 

The Whole Harmonium: The Life of Wallace Stevens, by Paul Mariani

Posted May 15, 2016 by Don
Categories: Book reviews, Poetry

In middle-age hoping to twig from
What we are not what we might be next, a question 
The South seems never to raise.
–Auden, “Good-bye to the Mezzogiorno”

Biographies these days challenge the forearms. While pleading for the subject to kick the bucket already, you keep yourself awake in late-night reading bouts, desperate to finish before drowsiness drops the volume onto your nose with ensuing sparks.

So, the reader is grateful for a life that gets it done in 411 pages of text. But still, of course, the reader has whimsies of his own and is impossible to please. Too much is left out! What did Stevens think of Yeats, or Hardy, or Auden? Why did he bull ahead with his blank verse lines, loosening the line only a bit, but never as Eliot did, to melt into prose? How did he handle the apparent rejection of Harmonium when he finally let it loose on the world, publishing for the first time at age forty-three?

There’s no original research shown. The author seems to have flipped through the published Letters, the smaller collections of letters with José Rodriguez Feo and with the poet’s wife Elsie, and the oral biography by Peter Brazeau, Parts of a World. (It is said that there are many letters that Stevens’s only child and literary executor, his daughter, Holly, never let see the light of day, but she has been gone for over twenty years now and should not be able to veto from the grave.) Finally, there are the poems themselves. In any literary biography, there is going to be some analysis of the work product. Mariani makes the curious choice to weave the poetry itself into the narrative. It’s somewhat pleasing if the reader is very familiar with the poems already. Otherwise, it must be very tedious. It would be adventurous to recommend this book to anyone unfamiliar with Stevens’s poetry.

Putting Stevens in our contemporary context would have been useful. One of the finest poems from Ideas of Order cannot be mentioned in polite society these days (and scarcely so when published). He had bourgeois ways of speaking and liked to drink with the boys–too much so, as the author shows, not only on the famous trips to Florida with Judge Arthur Powell, but at literary dinners, too. Do those who care about poetry these days think less of him for all that? They may and likely do, but we are not told.

This is thirty years after the much more ambitious and detailed biography by Joan Richardson. It is good to have a shorter life to read, but more work could have been done to press out the whey and firm things up. The author doesn’t attempt to defend or explain his choices. There is no introduction. The last two pages are an afterword of sorts, though not separate from the main text.

There are not many photographs. Those that are included are not new. In fairness, let us admit that there may not be many to choose from, but it’s too bad that the cover photo is the very same one used on the Library of America’s Collected Poetry and Prose. The photo is not so classic that the choice cannot be ascribed to laziness.

Still, if one admires the poetry of Stevens very much, it is an excuse to dip back in again, if one needs such impetus!

 

A Fisherman's Paradise - Long Key Fishing Camp (Library of Congress)

A Fisherman’s Paradise – Long Key Fishing Camp (Library of Congress)