Conversation Galante
I observe: "Our sentimental* friend the moon!
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
It may be Prester John's balloon
Or an old battered lantern hung aloft
To light poor travellers to their distress."
She then: "How you digress!"
And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys
That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our vacuity."
She then: "Does this refer to me?"
"Oh no, it is I who am inane."
"You, madam, are the eternal humorist,
The eternal enemy of the absolute,
Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist!
With your air indifferent and imperious
At a stroke our mad poetics to confute—"
And—"Are we then so serious?"
critical comment:
First it is important to note the physical context of the situation in the poem. Essentially, we have a man and a desirable woman presumably on a balcony outside a room wherein someone is playing a little night music, an “exquisite nocturne.” Above the man and the woman is presumably the full moon. Seeing the poem from the inside, we have two perspectives: the man, it seems, is trying to talk the woman into a sexual relationship by denying meaning to the setting, the moon and the music, and thus by extension to their (sexual) relationship.
In the first stanza, for example, his observations try to deny any real, inherent romantic meaning in the moon. His language and images are all reductive: from “sentimental friend,” to the legendary and thus “fantastic,” unreal and religiously reductive “Prester John’s balloon,” to “an old battered lantern hung aloft”: the final image is smallest and most dangerous from the man’s perspective: “to light poor travelers to their distress.” If we believe in the real romantic emotions (love) inspired by the presence of the moon [as in the Merchant of Venice, for example], not sentimental feelings, a relationship could just be a disaster and lead to unhappiness. Those affected are already in trouble, “poor travelers,” and thus he has tried to deny meaning to the situation, and of course relationships.
The woman, however, is no fool and sees what the man is doing; therefore, she responds appropriately, cuts to the chase, immediately, reducing his language to its underlying intent: “How you digress!” She sees what he is doing, trying to put out the beautiful, meaningful light of the moon, instead of talking about his real desire which is for her. The really clever and interesting thing she does here is lock in a poetic union by rhyming his poetic “distress” with her “digress.” [Notice how the rhyme scheme works throughout his poem]. On the one hand a possible real relationship (unity) is suggested by her three precise word analysis of his language, rhyming with his verbiage (34 words). He is trying to turn the real meaning of human presence [Buber’s I—Thou] into a violation of that meaning, making her an object of his desire [Buber’s I—It]. If the woman is merely an object, an IT, as he would have her, then the troublesome possibility of respect and love (THOU) will not enter in to cause any real distress, for him! Her real insight is reinforced in her using his poetic form to make him face his real failure to take her intelligence, her transcendent being, seriously, forcing him to respond, defend his behavior, and continue his “attack” from a different perspective or direction.
In the second stanza he attempts to diminish the meaning of the beautiful music, “that exquisite nocturne,” which leads him to admit his own nonsense, “moonshine” suggests it and “our vacuity” makes it clear; she doesn’t miss the pronoun though that attempts to implicate her in his own emptiness, for she immediately responds, “Does this refer to me ?” At that point the would-be lover is forced to admit his own folly: “Oh no, it is I who am inane.” He denies that the emptiness applies to her and that his perspective is essentially that of a fool.
Having confessed his folly, however, he attacks her substantial presence and perspective by pretending (I think) to be outraged. He accuses her, now “madam,” of making fun of him and waxes stupidly rhetorical until she cuts in with the question that will force the relationship to a new level, or end it completely: “Are we then so serious?” A good romantic relationship involves humor and serious respect. Again, good art is transformational, and this short, delightful poem, good art, leads to that moment where he must truly decide the real nature of their relationship.
There is an English Renaissance poem by—hmm—Sir Thomas Wyatt that begins, I think, “they flee from me that sometime did me seek.” I seem to remember the same kind of thing happening in that poem, forcing another human situation to a new understanding.
Ah well, maybe some day, should I live long enough, I may try Ash Wednesday, or one of the Four Quartets, or something else entirely. Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner stands across from my hospital bed downstairs, and I keep having the urge to reread it. Perhaps I shall give that a try.
I haven’t proofed much of this entry yet, but I think I will send it out there anyway; who knows, I might die tonight. At least after supper, I hope, if it must be. Ha! LES
NOTES:
,*sentimental:
“of a work of literature, music, or art) dealing with feelings of tenderness, sadness, or nostalgia, typically in an exaggerated and self-indulgent way.”
"a sentimental ballad”
*From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
“Prester John (Latin: Presbyter Johannes) was a legendary Christian patriarch, presbyter, and king. Stories popular in Europe in the 12th to the 17th centuries told of a Nestorian patriarch and king who was said to rule over a Christian nation lost amid the pagans and Muslims in the Orient.[1]: 28 The accounts were often embellished with various tropes of medieval popular fantasy, depicting Prester John as a descendant of the Three Magi, ruling a kingdom full of riches, marvels, and strange creatures.
At first, Prester John was imagined to reside in India. Tales of the Nestorian Christians' evangelistic success there and of Thomas the Apostle's subcontinental travels as documented in works like the Acts of Thomas probably provided the first seeds of the legend. After the coming of the Mongols to the Western world, accounts placed the king in Central Asia, and eventually Portuguese explorers came to believe that they had found him in Ethiopia.”
*from the poetry website, or somewhere thereabouts. An awful photo though!
