(Continued.)
𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮 Night and day . . . .
"Cell 461" quote from Curzio Malaparte superimposed on a scene from
the 1963 Godard film "Le Mépris " ("Contempt") —
"The architecture… beomes closely linked to the script…."
Malaparte's cell number , 461, is somewhat less closely linked
to the phrase "eternal blazon" —
Irving was quoted here on Dec. 22, 2008 —
The Tale of
the Eternal Blazon
by Washington Irving
“Blazon meant originally a shield , and then
the heraldic bearings on a shield .
Later it was applied to the art of describing
or depicting heraldic bearings in the proper
manner; and finally the term came to signify
ostentatious display and also description or
record by words or other means . In Hamlet ,
Act I Sc. 5, the Ghost, while talking with
Prince Hamlet, says:
‘But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood.’
Eternal blazon signifies revelation or description
of things pertaining to eternity .”
— Irving’s Sketch Book , p. 461
Update of 6:25 PM ET —
"Self-Blazon… of Edenic Plenitude"
(The Issuu text is taken from Speaking about Godard , by Kaja Silverman
and Harun Farocki, New York University Press, 1998, page 34.)
Begettings of
the Broken Bold
Thanks for the following
quotation (“Non deve…
nella testa“) go to the
weblog writer who signs
himself “Conrad H. Roth.”
… Yesterday I took leave of my Captain, with a promise of visiting him at Bologna on my return. He is a true A PAPAL SOLDIER’S IDEAS OF PROTESTANTS 339 representative of the majority of his countrymen. Here, however, I would record a peculiarity which personally distinguished him. As I often sat quiet and lost in thought he once exclaimed “Che pensa? non deve mai pensar l’uomo, pensando s’invecchia;” which being interpreted is as much as to say, “What are you thinking about: a man ought never to think; thinking makes one old.” And now for another apophthegm of his; “Non deve fermarsi l’uomo in una sola cosa, perche allora divien matto; bisogna aver mille cose, una confusione nella testa;” in plain English, “A man ought not to rivet his thoughts exclusively on any one thing, otherwise he is sure to go mad; he ought to have in his head a thousand things, a regular medley.” Certainly the good man could not know that the very thing that made me so thoughtful was my having my head mazed by a regular confusion of things, old and new. The following anecdote will serve to elucidate still more clearly the mental character of an Italian of this class. Having soon discovered that I was a Protestant, he observed after some circumlocution, that he hoped I would allow him to ask me a few questions, for he had heard such strange things about us Protestants that he wished to know for a certainty what to think of us. |
Notes for Roth:
The title of this entry,
“Begettings of the Broken Bold,”
is from Wallace Stevens’s
“The Owl in the Sarcophagus”–
This was peace after death, the brother of sleep, The inhuman brother so much like, so near, Yet vested in a foreign absolute, Adorned with cryptic stones and sliding shines, An immaculate personage in nothingness, With the whole spirit sparkling in its cloth, Generations of the imagination piled In the manner of its stitchings, of its thread, In the weaving round the wonder of its need, And the first flowers upon it, an alphabet By which to spell out holy doom and end, A bee for the remembering of happiness. Peace stood with our last blood adorned, last mind, Damasked in the originals of green, A thousand begettings of the broken bold. This is that figure stationed at our end, Always, in brilliance, fatal, final, formed Out of our lives to keep us in our death.... |
Related material:
Some further context:
Roth’s entry of Nov. 3, 2006–
“Why blog, sinners?“–
and Log24 on that date:
“First to Illuminate.”
The Folding
Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5 —
Ghost:
"I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!"
This recalls the title of a piece in this week's New Yorker:"The Book of Lists:
Susan Sontag’s early journals." (See Log24 on Thursday, Dec. 18.)
In the rather grim holiday spirit of that piece, here are some journal notes for Sontag, whom we may imagine as the ghost of Hanukkah past.
There are at least two ways of folding a list (or tale) to fit a rectangular frame.The normal way, used in typesetting English prose and poetry, starts at the top, runs from left to right, jumps down a line, then again runs left to right, and so on until the passage is done or the bottom right corner of the frame is reached.
The boustrophedonic way again goes from top to bottom, with the first line running from left to right, the next from right to left, the next from left to right, and so on, with the lines' directions alternating.
The word "boustrophedon" is from the Greek words describing the turning, at the end of each row, of an ox plowing (or "harrowing") a field.
The Tale of
the Eternal Blazon
by Washington Irving
"Blazon meant originally a shield, and then the heraldic bearings on a shield.
Later it was applied to the art of describing or depicting heraldic bearings
in the proper manner; and finally the term came to signify ostentatious display
and also description or record by words or other means. In Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 5,
the Ghost, while talking with Prince Hamlet, says:
'But this eternal blazon
must not be
To ears of flesh and blood.'
Eternal blazon signifies revelation or description of things pertaining to eternity."
— Irving's Sketch Book, p. 461
By Washington Irving and Mary Elizabeth Litchfield, Ginn & Company, 1901
Related material:
Folding (and harrowing up)
some eternal blazons —
These are the foldings
described above.
They are two of the 322,560
natural ways to fit
the list (or tale)
"1, 2, 3, … 15, 16"
into a 4×4 frame.
For further details, see
The Diamond 16 Puzzle.
Moral of the tale:
Cynthia Zarin in The New Yorker, issue dated April 12, 2004–
"Time, for L'Engle, is accordion-pleated. She elaborated, 'When you bring a sheet off the line, you can't handle it until it's folded, and in a sense, I think, the universe can't exist until it's folded– or it's a story without a book.'"
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