21 September 2018

Hockey Night in Canada

Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Idea, tr. R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp, Vol. I, Book IV (London: Trübner & Co., 1883), p. 404:
The striving after existence is what occupies all living things and maintains them in motion. But when existence is assured, then they know not what to do with it; thus the second thing that sets them in motion is the effort to get free from the burden of existence, to make it cease to be felt, “to kill time,” i.e., to escape from ennui. Accordingly we see that almost all men who are secure from want and care, now that at last they have thrown off all other burdens, become a burden to themselves, and regard as a gain every hour they succeed in getting through; and thus every diminution of the very life which, till then, they have employed all their powers to maintain as long as possible. Ennui is by no means an evil to be lightly esteemed; in the end it depicts on the countenance real despair. It makes beings who love each other so little as men do, seek each other eagerly, and thus becomes the source of social intercourse. Moreover, even from motives of policy, public precautions are everywhere taken against it, as against other universal calamities. For this evil may drive men to the greatest excesses, just as much as its opposite extreme, famine: the people require panem et circenses
Cf. Robert Edelman, "Historians, Authoritarian States and Spectator Sport, 1880-2020," The Palgrave Handbook of Mass Dictatorship, ed. Paul Corner and Jie-Hyun Lim (London: Macmillan, 2016), p. 195:
Over time, it became a cliché to claim spectator sport fostered such [social] cohesion by functioning as a “safety valve” — a harmless way of releasing dangerous pent-up aggression. The athlete was said to act out the anger, rage and frustration sports fans experienced as part of their own mundane daily existences. Watching sport provided a vicarious experience through which members of the public sought to compensate for the inadequacies and hurts of their own lives. A more sophisticated version of this approach was later offered by the German emigré sociologist, Norbert Elias. For him, sporting contests replicated the excitement of battles but did so in the context of rules that limited the violence of war: “spectators at a foot ball match may savor the mimetic excitement of the battle swaying to and fro on the playing field, knowing that no harm will come to the players and themselves.” Elias, who saw modern sport as part of the civilizing process that limited the violence of earlier eras, argued the excitement of watching such contests could be “liberating” and have a “cathartic effect” which could “counterbalance the stress tensions of  ...non-leisure life”. 
A related post: Football and Beer 

18 September 2018

Twilight Mania

Charles Baudelaire, "Evening Twilight," Baudelaire; His Prose and Poetry, tr. T. R. Smith (New York: Boni and Liveright, 1919), p. 50:
Twilight excites madmen. I remember I had two friends whom twilight made quite ill. One of them lost all sense of social and friendly amenities, and flew at the first-comer like a savage. I have seen him throw at the waiter's head an excellent chicken, in which he imagined he had discovered some insulting hieroglyph. Evening, harbinger of profound delights, spoilt for him the most succulent things.

The other, a prey to disappointed ambition, turned gradually, as the daylight dwindled, sourer, more gloomy, more nettlesome. Indulgent and sociable during the day, he was pitiless in the evening; and it was not only on others, but on himself, that he vented the rage of his twilight mania. 

Louis Anquetin, Avenue de Clichy (1887)


The original, from Le Spleen de Paris (Paris: Émile Paul, 1917), p. 71:
Le crépuscule excite les fous. — Je me souviens que j’ai eu deux amis que le crépuscule rendait tout malades. L’un méconnaissait alors tous les rapports d’amitié et de politesse, et maltraitait, comme un sauvage, le premier venu. Je l’ai vu jeter à la tête d’un maître d’hôtel un excellent poulet, dans lequel il croyait voir je ne sais quel insultant hiéroglyphe. Le soir, précurseur des voluptés profondes, lui gâtait les choses les plus succulentes.

L’autre, un ambitieux blessé, devenait, à mesure que le jour baissait, plus aigre, plus sombre, plus taquin. Indulgent et sociable encore pendant la journée, il était impitoyable le soir ; et ce n’était pas seulement sur autrui, mais aussi sur lui-même, que s’exerçait rageusement sa manie crépusculeuse.

12 September 2018

The Liberal Arts

Robert Maynard Hutchins, "The Great Conversation," a preface to the The Great Books of the Western World, Vol. I (Chicago: Encyclopedia Brittanica, 1923), pp. 13-14:
The aim of liberal education is human excellence, both private and public (for man is a political animal). Its object is the excellence of man as man and man as citizen. It regards man as an end, not as a means; and it regards the ends of life, and not the means to it. For this reason it is the education of free men. Other types of education or training treat men as means to some other end, or at best concerned with the means of life, with earning a living, and not with its ends.
Ibid., p. 15:
The liberal arts are not merely indispensable; they are unavoidable. Nobody can decide for himself whether he is going to be a human being. The only question open to him is whether he will be an ignorant, undeveloped one or one who has sought to reach the highest point he is capable of attaining. The question, in short, is whether he will be a poor liberal artist or a good one.
A related post: Once Upon a Time

7 September 2018

Not Necessarily a Cheerful Man

Arthur Compton Rickett, The Vagabond in Literature (London: J. M. Dent & Co., 1906), pp. 31-32:
Taken on the whole, the English literary Vagabond is a man of joy, not necessarily a cheerful man. There is a deeper quality about joy than about cheerfulness. Cheerfulness indeed is almost entirely a physical idiosyncrasy. It lies on the surface. A man, serious and silent, may be a joyful man; he can scarcely be a cheerful man. Moody as he was at times, sour-tempered and whimsical as he could be, yet there was a fine quality of joy about Hazlitt. It is this quality of joy that gives the sparkle and relish to his essays. He took the same joy in his books as in his walks, and he communicates this joy to the reader. He appears misanthropic at times, and rages violently at the world; but ’tis merely a passing gust of feeling, and when over, it is easy to see how superficial it was, so little is his general attitude affected by it.

The joyfulness of the Vagabond is no mere light-hearted, graceful spirit. It is of a hardy and virile nature — a quality not to be crushed by misfortune or sickness. Outwardly, neither the lives of Hazlitt nor De Quincey were what we would call happy. Both had to fight hard against adverse fates for many years; both had delicate constitutions, which entailed weary and protracted periods of feeble health.

But there was a fundamental serenity about them. At the end of a hard and fruitless struggle with death, Hazlitt murmured, “Well, I’ve had a happy life.” De Quincey at the close of his long and varied life showed the same tranquil stoicism that had carried him through his many difficulties.

Gustave Courbet, Le Vagabond (1845)

5 September 2018

4 September 2018

Recipe for Success

Wormwood, "Advice to Young Artists," The Art Union, I (October 1884), 180:
A true, earnest, independent, manly pursuit of art, for the love of it, is in the nature of serving God, and has no place in your creed. You are to seek the favor of your fellow mortals, and of them expect your reward. Make little effort to win the approval of the true and noble of earth, for they are few and without influence; also, they may divine your real character, and so you needlessly augment their contempt for you. You are to systematically suppress all emotions men call generous, only simulate them when occasion requires. You shall flatter the coarse vanity of the rich, defer to the absurd opinions of the powerful, cringe to those in authority and never give unnecessary offence to any, for there are none devoid of influence which sooner or later may be felt.

31 August 2018

Labour Day

Jean-François Millet, quoted in Alfred Sensier, La vie et l'oeuvre de J.-F. Millet  (Paris: A. Quantin, 1881), p.  130 (my translation):
Sometimes in the fields, although the land is poorly suited to cultivation, you see figures hoeing and digging. Once in a while one of them stands up, "straightens his kidneys" as they say, and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread."

Is this the jolly, frolicking work that certain people want us to believe in? Nevertheless it is here that, for me, true humanity and great poetry are found.

Jean-François Millet, L'homme à la houe (c. 1860)

30 August 2018

An Instrument of Retributive Justice

Charles Dudley Warner, My Summer in a Garden (Cambridge, MA: The Riverside Press, 1898), p. 37:
The weeds ... have hateful moral qualities. To cut down a weed is, therefore, to do a moral action. I feel as if I were destroying sin. My hoe becomes an instrument of retributive justice. I am an apostle of Nature. This view of the matter lends a dignity to the art of hoeing which nothing else does, and lifts it into the region of ethics. Hoeing becomes, not a pastime, but a duty. And you get to regard it so, as the days and the weeds lengthen. 
Hat tip: The South Roane Agrarian

27 August 2018

Incurable Uneasiness

Eugène Fromentin, The Old Masters of Belgium and Holland, tr. Mary Robbins (Cambridge, MA: The Riverside Press, 1882), p. 177:
We might say that for a long time the art of painting has been a lost secret, and that the last masters of great experience who practised it took the key away with them. We need it, we ask for it, no one has it any longer; we look for it and it cannot be found. The result is that the individualism in method is nothing more, really, than the effort of each to imagine what he has not learned; that in certain skillful practice we can see the laboured efforts and expediences of a mind in difficulty; and that nearly all the so-called originality of modern practices covers incurable uneasiness.
Hat tip: Louis Anquetin (1861-1932), who uses this quote from Fromentin in the conclusion of Rubens, sa technique: analyse des tableaux de la Galerie de Médicis au Louvre (Paris: Éditions Nilsson, 1924), at p. 129.

20 August 2018