From a post at midnight on the night of Jan. 7-8, 2018:
"The resulting figures look rather unimpressive
until they are superimposed, but then they yield
a variety of surprisingly orderly figures."
Context: See the tag The Overnight Case .
See as well a search in this journal for "Double Day."
Solemn Dance
Virgil on the Elysian Fields:
Some wrestle on the sands, and some in play And games heroic pass the hours away. Those raise the song divine, and these advance In measur'd steps to form the solemn dance.
(See also the previous two entries.)
"The cover of this issue of the Bulletin is the frontispiece to a volume of Samuel de Fermat’s 1670 edition of Bachet’s Latin translation of Diophantus’s Arithmetica. This edition includes the marginalia of the editor’s father, Pierre de Fermat. Among these notes one finds the elder Fermat’s extraordinary comment [c. 1637] in connection with the Pythagorean equation
— Barry Mazur, Gade University Professor at Harvard
Mazur's concluding remarks are as follows:
Mazur has admitted, at his website, that this conclusion was an error:
"I erroneously identified the figure on the cover as Erato, muse of erotic poetry, but it seems, rather, to be Orpheus."
"Seems"?
The inscription on the frontispiece, "Obloquitur numeris septem discrimina vocum," is from a description of the Elysian Fields in Virgil's Aeneid, Book VI:
His demum exactis, perfecto munere divae, Devenere locos laetos, & amoena vireta Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas. Largior hic campos aether & lumine vestit Purpureo; solemque suum, sua sidera norunt. Pars in gramineis exercent membra palaestris, Contendunt ludo, & fulva luctanter arena: Pars pedibus plaudunt choreas, & carmina dicunt. Necnon Threicius longa cum veste sacerdos Obloquitur numeris septem discrimina vocum: Jamque eadem digitis, jam pectine pulsat eburno.
PITT: These rites compleat, they reach the flow'ry plains, The verdant groves, where endless pleasure reigns. Here glowing AEther shoots a purple ray, And o'er the region pours a double day. From sky to sky th'unwearied splendour runs, And nobler planets roll round brighter suns. Some wrestle on the sands, and some in play And games heroic pass the hours away. Those raise the song divine, and these advance In measur'd steps to form the solemn dance. There Orpheus graceful in his long attire, In seven divisions strikes the sounding lyre; Across the chords the quivering quill he flings, Or with his flying fingers sweeps the strings. DRYDEN: These holy rites perform'd, they took their way, Where long extended plains of pleasure lay. The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie; With AEther veiled, and a purple sky: The blissful seats of happy souls below; Stars of their own, and their own suns they know. Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, And on the green contend the wrestlers prize. Some in heroic verse divinely sing, Others in artful measures lead the ring. The Thracian bard surrounded by the rest, There stands conspicuous in his flowing vest. His flying fingers, and harmonious quill, Strike seven distinguish'd notes, and seven at once they fill.
It is perhaps not irrelevant that the late Lorraine Hunt Lieberson's next role would have been that of Orfeo in Gluck's "Orfeo ed Euridice." See today's earlier entries.
The poets among us may like to think of Mazur's own role as that of the lyre:
Double Day… August 2, 2002
“Time cannot exist without a soul (to count it).” — Aristotle
The above quotation appears in my journal note of August 2, 1995, as an epigraph on the reproduced title page of The Sense of an Ending, by Frank Kermode (Oxford University Press, 1967).
August 2, 1995, was the fortieth anniversary of Wallace Stevens’s death. On the same date in 1932 — seventy years ago today — actor Peter O’Toole was born. O’Toole’s name appears, in a suitably regal fashion, in my journal note of August 2, 1995, next to the heraldic crest of Oxford University, which states that “Dominus illuminatio mea.” Both the crest and the name appear below the reproduced title page of Kermode’s book — forming, as it were, a foundation for what Harvard professor Marjorie Garber scornfully called “the Church of St. Frank” (letters to the editor, New York Times Book Review, July 30, 1995).
Meditations for today, August 2, 2002:
From page 60 of Why I Am a Catholic, by Gary Wills (Houghton Mifflin, 2002):
“Was Jesus teasing Peter when he called him ‘Rocky,’ naming him ab opposito, as when one calls a not-so-bright person Einstein?”
From page 87 of The Third Word War, by Ian Lee (A&W Publishers, Inc., New York, 1978):
“Two birds… One stone (EIN STEIN).”
From “Seventy Years Later,” Section I of “The Rock,” a poem by Wallace Stevens:
A theorem proposed between the two —
Two figures in a nature of the sun….
From page 117 of The Sense of an Ending:
“A great many different kinds of writing are called avant-garde…. The work of William Burroughs, for instance, is avant-garde. His is the literature of withdrawal, and his interpreters speak of his hatred for life, his junk nihilism, his treatment of the body as a corpse full of cravings. The language of his books is the language of an ending world, its aim… ‘self-abolition.'”
From “Today in History,” by The Associated Press:
“Five years ago: ‘Naked Lunch’ author William S. Burroughs, the godfather of the ‘Beat generation,’ died in Kansas City, Mo., at age 83.”
Part of the above statement is the usual sort of AP disinformation, due not to any sinister intent but to stupidity and carelessness. Burroughs actually died in Lawrence, Kansas. For the location of Lawrence, click on the link below. Location matters.
From page 118 of The Sense of an Ending:
“Somewhere, then, the avant-garde language must always rejoin the vernacular.”
From the Billie Holiday songbook:
“Good mornin’, heartache.”
From page 63 of The New Yorker issue dated August 5, 2002:
“Birthday, death-day — what day is not both?” — John Updike
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