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I agree with most of the things you say there. The one thing I might quibble over is whether the poem is really about Saturday night. Though it's set on Saturday I think it's real subject is Sunday, as most things are projecting for the next day.Quote:
Originally Posted by quasimodo1
The poem does project to the next day; no disagreement there. My take on the poem is that Leopardi is giving us a "you are there" experience for Recanati village as it takes a deep breath before resuming duty.
Agreed, and it's a beautifully done "you are there" experience. I loved this poem.Quote:
Originally Posted by quasimodo1
I didn't get a strong 'death motif' in this poem, only a transition from youth to maturity. I took 'Saturday to mean youth and 'Sunday to mean maturity. It was in the last line, that I think Leopardi was telling us that, while in our youth we are always hoping get to adulthood too fast. We can't wait until we become adults and then we think we have it all.
...I'll say no more, only
Don't fret if your Sunday
Seems like a long time coming.
I think Leopardi is telling the youth of the day, don't grow up too fast.
I don't want to rush our discussion of Saturday in the Village but maybe our next poem could be Sunday Evening. It seems like it may be a continuation of Leopardi's theme from the first poem. Not sure why it comes so much later in the collection.
I did very much like Saturday in the Village It made you feel like you were right there with the townspeople, almost like a little excerpt from a Brueghel painting.
Makes sense, but don't go through this one too quickly. I'd like to get a chance to post on the poem. This weekend I should have some time to write, so wait a couple of days before moving on.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lynne50
I take this part as a key passage with the rise of the presence of the narrator in the last part of the poem. All of the earlier activity and the blending of sound and colour is all well and good, but for me the central crux is in the knowing sense of the narrator at the close.
I like the way Leopardi (through Nichols) has captured the sense of activity, like I say, both in sound and colour from the activity of the various types of people, the old and the young, the ardent labourer and the carefree spirit of youth, as well as the “old crone” who looks back on her younger days with pride. I like how the use of sound represented in the poem is emphasised - the shrilling of the bell, the hammer and saw of the carpenter and the shouts and cheers of the boys in play – it all helps to add to the whole picture of anticipation for the Sunday effectively (though perhaps symbolic of life in general?). However for me it is the shadow of the narrator who tells the boy to “enjoy” the “happy state” and the “pleasant lull” at the close who is most important. “I say no more” he then adds, which suggests to me that we are then forced to fill in the blanks with “for it will not last”.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t particularly see the poem as “dark” as such, maybe something that “just is” but neither I am content to see this poem simply as a pleasant sketch of village life.
Thanks Virgil, for the Italian! I have to agree with you that the Nichols version is more accurate and, for me, a more successful poem.
I'm very drawn to the labourer returning home, and how his thoughts about the Sabbath contrast so sharply with the others'. Anybody else sense a bit of irony there? To me, it seems like an interesting note on which to end the stanza.
Also, I was really struck by the lines about the setting sun and the village being silhouetted against the white moonlight. Really beautiful.
Good post Neely. I think it is this sense that I meant when I mentioned death through the poem. It is like the narrator's shadow through it:Quote:
Originally Posted by Neely
the crone facing the last quarter - of her life
The air beginning to gloom
The shrill bell announcing the holy day - shrill for me seems to imply some discomfiture
Tomorrow and sadness - the sadness of tomorrow
And Neely's point about the narrator's unsaid words.
There seems to be a few references which I need to think about:
The crone reference to Arachne who challenged Athene to a weave off and was turned into a spider. She wove the infidelities of he Gods - which may be hinted at more in the Grennan translation in relation to he old woman's past.
I also wondered about the carpenter. What does he need to work at all night? A coffin perhaps - hot country an all that - though is might be taking it too far. Christ was a carpenter, and the seven days seems to be a creation reference. Does the carpenter make something traditionally for the holy day? I suppose in a sense the holy day is made by Christ.
Just musing. :D
Yes I agree with your list of points, which I didn't mention, but had thought about to some degree in relation to the passing of time. (The tolling of the bell perhaps significant as a knelling bell, calling home a funeral too?) It is hardly coincidence for me that the old woman talks of her youth. I mean of all the things she could have uttered, she happens to coincide with the idea of the passing of time which along with everything else - seems so significant.
With the colour thing again the description of the sky turning a deep blue all for me points towards the closing of the day (and therefore the life) of the individual which is set against the whiteness of the moon, the purity of a new beginning?
There also seems to be a strong contrast between the energy of youth, the small boys who "crowd and leap about" with the older figures of the woman and the whistling (more sound) labourer who "thinks happily about his day of rest". I mean the old women even refers to her youth as being lively and tells of her "dancing all the night away". All of this points to an energy of youth, a zest for life, which is not found in those with a wider grasp of time’s passing – at least for me it is more than just the physical energy of youth, it is a mental attitude too or an understanding such as is grasped by the narrator.
There is also something I think to argue about the pointlessness of it all, despite all the hard work of the labourer there is nothing to look forward to but the one day of rest and the "frugal meal" not exactly that joyful – and of course the “day of rest” could really be taken as death in itself.
I like your thought about the reference to the carpenter which would seem to sit in terms of our reading of the poem (which seems to be very close) with the obviousness of the Sabbath and its obvious religious connotations.
Yes - as I was reading it I was thinking of Marvell's
And always at my back I hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near
In his "To His Coy Mistress"
and the bell reminded mr of Donne's No Man is an Island with
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Of course I'm not sure if Leopardi would have been aware of these, but the themes seem to fit.
I like the point about the pointlessness.:D
Yes, I think that it is quite a common theme which runs through a whole lot of literary thought in all its diversity. From the ancient to Shakespeare's sonnets, right up to the subtle tolling of Big Ben in Woolf's Dalloway and beyond, it never seems to be that far away. It is certainly the most interesting and salient point in Leopardi's poem for me anyway. :)
Neely, we don't have the same translation. Which lines are these? Which stanaza?Quote:
Know all that flowering time/Of yours is like the splendour of a day...
Paul - Excellent observation about the carpenter! I'll have to look at that more closely, but certainly an allusion to Christ is probable.
Yes no doubt that there may be differences in the translations which affects the reading of it, I have been reading it solely through the Nichols one, only quickly reading the opening stanza of the Grennen which was posted. Nichols translates the last stanza as:
Playful boy full of zest,
Know all that flowering time
Of yours is like the splendour of a day,
That clear, unclouded day
Which tends to come before life's festal prime.
Enjoy it, little boy: a happy state
Is yours, a pleasant lull.
I say no more - but if your festival
Delays, that is no reason for regret.
Neely After reading your translation of the last stanza, I have to agree that I like it better than Grennan's. Here are some comparisons. (G) Young lad, larking about.. (N) Playful boy, full of zest. Grennan's version, IMO, doesn't have any joy in it. Then there's this one. (G) A cloudless blue day.. (N) That clear, unclouded day.. Again, I think Nichols is more lyrical.
And lastly, (G) Enjoy it, little one, for this is a state of bliss, a glad season.
(N) ... instead of saying.. is a state of bliss... Nichols says Is yours, a pleasant lull.
I state of bliss and a pleasant lull mean two different things to me.
Thanks for all the insights that have been given so far. It's a wonder we agree at all on the interpretations when our versions are so different.
Grennan's last stanza is translated:
Quote:
Young lad, larking about,
This blossom-time of yours
Is like a day of pure delight,
A cloudless blue day,
Before the feast of your life.
Enjoy it, little one, for this
Is a state of bliss, a glad season.
I'll say no more, only
Don't fret if your Sunday
Seems a long time coming.
Yes I think so, I think I preferred the Grennan for the other poem, but the Nichols one for this.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lynne50
Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Thanks. Yes I think this version is softer than the Nichols one and not as obvious in regards to my previous reading of the poem, it seems a little more subdued in tone.Quote:
Young lad, larking about,
This blossom-time of yours
Is like a day of pure delight,
A cloudless blue day,
Before the feast of your life.
Enjoy it, little one, for this
Is a state of bliss, a glad season.
I'll say no more, only
Don't fret if your Sunday
Seems a long time coming.
Okay, I finally sat down and read the poem today. It's a good one. Much appreciation to quasi for picking. There's quite a bit to write on this one, so I'm going to break this into three posts. First, I want to say something about the biblical/classical resonances of the first half of the poem, and how they create a pretty common chronology of youth to old age and death. Then, something should be said about how that usual timeline is challenged in the second half of the poem. Also, something should be said about why the second half of the poem focuses on just boys and men. The first half encompassed both genders, but the second part of the poem shifts toward just one. I'll start with the first part of the poem, though, and I'll see how far I get.
The juxtaposition of age and youth in writing goes back to the classics. The Greeks and Romans were obsessed with assigning attributes to the young and old. Aristotle, Lucretius, and Horace are just three authors who come to mind, and they each point to the profligacy and joy of youth as well as the reflectiveness and caution of old age. Much in the first half of "Saturday in the Village" could have come straight out of Horace's Epistles or the Ars Poetica. Here's just a piece of the Ars Poetica:
The bold was added. Horace is cautioning playwrights and poets to give the right characteristics to old and young characters. Each group has its own habits, and Horace suggests that no one will care for your literature if you can't understand that. In the first half of "Saturday in the Village" Leopardi takes Horace's advice and writes girls and boys as carelees, pleasure-seeking youths: "A flock of boys makes a happy racket" and the girls dress up for dancing and socializing. Meanwhile, the elderly wait on their porches or work their jobs, while reflecting on pleasure in the past or enjoying smaller, quieter pleasures. Everyone is obeying classical rules.Quote:
Originally Posted by Horace
Soon, though, the young will become old, and the old will die. Time and death are also very present in the first half of the poem. The sun is setting in the poem's first line. Already, we start with an image of decline and the temporal. Our first character, the girl, arrives "With an armful of fresh grass." This is a line with many resonances. In the Bible grass can stand for the changeable nature of sublunary things. For example, in Isiah the word of God is contrasted to the physical world: "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field." This "flesh is grass" metaphor seems to carry over into "Saturday in the Village." The "fresh grass" reminds us of young "flesh." It also reminds us that the grass and flesh will eventually wither and die. In theological terms this is a call to abandon the earthly and accept the divine. The passage from Isiah ends with "The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever." The first half of Leopardi's poem takes us through earthly enjoyments (represented by the girls and boys) through a sour old age (defined by classical writers) and end with death--where, if one's following the usual Christian theology, they are connected with God. The last word of the first section is "rest." The grown man is "Thinking about his day of rest." By the nineteenth-century this was almost cliche. If you want a more drawn out retelling of this progression, read "The Four Ages" by Anne Bradstreet. She elaborates this idea with greater clarity.
The girl returning with "fresh grass" is also reminiscent of the mower poems by Marvell--as Paulem has pointed out. The mower poems replace the shepherds of classical pastorals with scythe-handling harvesters. Many of Marvell's mowers have two things: an amorous goal and a hyper-awareness of death. That's what so many of the poem are about. The mower represents to the reader how while we're mindlessly following our desires death is slowly creeping up on us. The mower is like the love-struck shepherds of the pastorals, but, at the same time, his harvesting of grass is like how death will eventually harvest us. This is a connection made easier for readers of classical mythology, as Chronos and Saturn are frequently portrayed with scythes. In fact, Father Time (a figure that derives from those Greek and Roman gods) is frequently portrayed scythe-bearing. You can see him wielding his scythe in some of Hogarth's famous works:
http://freepages.family.rootsweb.anc...m_children.jpg
Hogarth's Portrait: The Graham Children
In the upper left is a clock with Father Time holding up a scythe. This is a pretty common connection (harvesting with death), and Leopardi may be employing it here in this poem. I doubt he was reading much Marvell or staring at Hogarth's portraits, but this idea goes back to antiquity. I used examples from English art for illustration simply because I'm just more familiar with English variants of this connection.
I'm going to have to speed things up now because I find I'm only three lines into the poem, and I want to get to the end of the first section. I'll skip a little here and focus just on the death imagery and allusions. So when Leopardi introduces the old ladies, this quickly brings up the idea of death. The sky and landscape take on corpse-like colors: "The sky turns deep blue, shadows/ Stretch from the hills and tilting roofs/In the blanched light of the rising moon." Suddenly, everything is deep blue and pale white. The shadows have crept up, as well--indicating passage of time like a sundial. Shadow also has a great deal of biblical resonance. Frequently, the Bible refers to the "shadow of death." In Job, Isiah, Mark, Luke, and the Psalm the phrase appears. I think that Leopardi has moved from the young to the old and finally on to the dead. He's taken us through a very classical and biblical lifecycle where mankind starts as a careless, pleasure-seeking youth, travels through reflective, industrious middle age, and ends in divine "rest."
Interesting, though, the poem does not end there. The second part (everything after "Thinking about his day of rest") throws this all into the air. There's an awareness in the following lines that life might not follow classical and biblical precedent--even if everyone strains to meet that ideal. We see the carpenter working furiously to finish a job late at night. The poet forecasts a melancholy day rather than a blessed one, and councils the boys that Sunday may not come on time. Leopardi challenges the established chronology that the literary tradition had promised everyone.
I'll explain better what I mean in the next post.
Weren't you the one arguing that Leopardi wasn't a classicist? :wink5:Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I enjoyed your post Quark. I hadn't thought about the cut grass as a result of the scythe, which would definitely signal death. I think Paul is defintely right to point out that the core of this poem is about death.
What I'm calling the first half of the poem (lines 1-30 in the Grennan translation) is very classical. As I was saying before, though, the second half of the poem seems to challenge the first half. The assumption that life perfectly follows biblical/classical examples is called into question. I'll post more about that later. I still have to find a couple of things before I can spit out exactly what I mean.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
In any case, I think we've talked the "Is he a neo-classicist?" question to death:
:beatdeadhorse5:
Yikes! The emoticon is a touch too graphic for me. I'm not even sure why we have it. The admin and mods have gone a little overboard with the smilies of late. (Although, an overboard emoticon would have really helped there.) Some of these little images are just baffling. Take this one: :auto:. What the hell is that? Maybe if I were decribing Ferris Bueler's Day Off that might come in handy, but otherwise it seems pretty strange.
Some good insights into the poem Quark, my biblical knowledge is not that strong so I wouldn't have picked up on those. I also like the points about the scythe and the grass which I didn't see when I read it. I look forward to read the rest of your points. Beep beep: :driving:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I noticed in the emoticon that the front wheel is turning but not the back. Does that imply "we're just spinning our wheels" Just a thought.
Good post Quark. In the Nichols translation the Country Girl is referred to as carrying hay, so the biblical "flesh is grass" reference was less apparent. i think it is entirely plausible though.
At the moment I'm trying to reconcile the image of the crone spinning the story of her youth - similar to arachnae who was turned into the spider. Arachnae wove the infidelities of the gods, which may be a reference to the crone's stories of her youth. This seems to sit well with the imagery of death and the warning about youth in Quark's post. It reminds me of Donne too exhorting young men in his sermons, though of course this may be in the tradition that Quark refers to, rather than a direct link.
I can see the link to the young boys at the end of the poem - representing youthful boisterousness. Are they images of innocence befor they have the opportunity to spoil their spirituality?
Again just musing.
Part 2/3
So, there's a second half to this poem. I talked a little about the biblical/classical tradition the first half of the poem (lines 1-30 in the Grennan translation) is working in before. Leopardi reminds readers of the classical life cycle (youth to old age) and a Christian notion of time (a changing world contrasted with an unchanging heaven which we strive for in life but can only reach at death). The poem reinforces these concepts of time and progress by paralleling them with natural progression--like the progression of the sun across the sky or the progression of Saturday into Sunday. The first half of the poem looks like something a seventeenth-century poet would have written.
The second half of the poem, however, challenges the assumptions made in the first half. The order established in the first half is broken. Lines 31-32 (Then, when every other light is out/ And there isn't another sound) give the impression that everyone has reached the "rest" spoken of at the end of the first half. That is, everything is as it should be. But, right after that, Leopardi notices something amiss:
The bold is added again. Leopardi reminds readers that not everyone has gotten to rest. Some people are struggling to meet the ideal set up by classical/biblical precedent. The carpenter has to "sweat" and "strain" before his Sunday. This is a bit of break from the Bible--as God finished his six-day enterprise with a great deal more ease and grace. I don't remember God having to last-minute things. People, though, fall short of the ideal. Things don't work exactly as planned, and the biblical precedent is shown to be a promise that isn't always kept. Not only do people have stretch to try to obtain "rest," they also have a difficult time trying to live in classically-defined stages of life. The poem points out that everyone isn't thinking of the day they're in, but rather their thoughts stray to tomorrow. Saturday is filled with hope for Sunday, and Sunday is consumed by despair because of Monday. Horace, Lucretius, Ovid all taught that your current stage of life defines you. If you're young, you naturally act carelessly. If you're old, you're caution. The young act, and the old reflect. That's supposed to be life. Leopardi, though, contradicts the tradition, and shows that people don't live in their current stage of life. Instead, they're thinking about the next one. Those in Saturday think about Sunday, and those in Sunday think about Monday:Quote:
You'll hear the carpenter's saw,
You'll hear his hammer
Banging from the shuttered shop,
Where, by lamplight, he sweats and strains
To finish a job before break of day. (32-37)
The questions now are "Why is the biblical/classical" tradition broken?" and "What are the effects of it breaking?" I think the first question has a very historical answer: the Enlightenment replaced sacred and classical history with natural science and secular history. The grand narratives of the ancients and the Bible no longer seemed to apply. Peter Brooks outlines this historical trend in Reading for the Plot--his influential study of narrative: "As Voltaire announced and then the Romantics confirmed, history replaces theology as the key discourse and central imagination." He goes on to argue that "The enormous narrative production of the nineteenth century may suggest an anxiety at the loss of providential plots: the plotting of the individual or social or institutional life story takes on new urgency when one no longer can look to a sacred masterplot that organizes and explains the world." Clearly, Brooks is reaching a bit here (he will eventually step back from these "sweeping generalizations"), but the point he's making about the loss of a "sacred masterplot" is quite accurate. The Enlightenment breaks from earlier traditions and establishes new rules for ordering one's life.Quote:
This one [Saturday] get this warmest welcome,
Full of hope, as it is, and joy.
Tomorrow the hours will be leaden
With emptiness and melancholy,
Everybody going back in his mind
To the daily grind. (39-44)
I think you see this happening across the continent in many art forms, too. Look at the change in France between Baroque and Rococo painting. The Baroque period stressed political and religious orthodoxy through classical and biblical allusion, but the later Rococo period freed art from its attachment to those "masterplots." Sometimes the change between periods is commented on in the painting themselves--as in Charles-Antoine Coypel's Painting Ejecting Thalia:
http://i223.photobucket.com/albums/d...rk3/thalia.jpg
Charles-Antoine Coypel: Painting Ejecting Thalia
Thalia is the Greek grace representing history. She was often depicted as assisting political leaders in Baroque art, but in this painting she's expelled by the painter. Similarly, in Leopardi's poem there's a break from the biblical and classical tradition. The old models of life--while not expelled--are certainly critiqued.
I think when we ask the question "What are the effects of it [the tradition] breaking?," though, we end up with a much different answer than the Enlightenment thinkers or Rococo artists would have given. For them, the break from tradition was an unquestionably good thing. It allowed art to pursue pleasure and useful instruction. It civilized society. Yet, Leopardi doesn't seem to embrace this change the same way these others did. He meets the collapsed tradition with somber resignation. The last lines of the poem are:
There's no attempt to regain a "masterplot"--just acceptance of uncertainty.Quote:
Young lad, larking about,
This blossom-time of yours
Is like a day of pure delight,
A cloudless blue day
Before the feast of your life.
Enjoy it, little one, for this
Is a state of bliss, a glad season.
I'll say no more, only
Don't fret if your Sunday
Seems a long time coming.
That's what I think is going on with tradition in this poem. As usual, there's plenty more to talk about. I wanted to get that out there, so that it doesn't go unnoticed. Also, I still want to talk about the women and men in this poem, so I got one more long post to write.
I also think there is pleasure associated with Sunday. I don't see the despair of Monday as being the defining characteristic of Sunday. It's a pleasure to have Sunday and "oh yeah, Monday is coming."Quote:
Saturday is filled with hope for Sunday, and Sunday is consumed by despair because of Monday.
To be honest this whole classical/biblical/enlightment segmenting of the poem is a real stretch. There is a distinction between Saturday/Sunday/Monday, but no where can i see any philosophical distinctions as linked to philosophic movements in this poem.Quote:
The questions now are "Why is the biblical/classical" tradition broken?" and "What are the effects of it breaking?"
Then what do you make of these lines:Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I think you're right that there is some pleasure associated with Sunday. But, when a poem says that something will be empty and melancholy, I think you also have to acknowledge that there's more than just pleasure there, too.Quote:
Tomorrow the hours will be leaden
With emptiness and melancholy,
Everybody going back in his mind
To the daily grind. (41-44)
Now that's a reference I would have to look up. Give me a second to review the poem and my mythology.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Again, I'd have to go back to the poem for this. I need to reread before I'll say something about the spirituality of the boys.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Maybe. Let's just agree that's what it is, though. Then it would at least have some meaning.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lynne50
I have to agree with Virgil - I don't doubt the traditions you are referring to Quark, but I think the link with the poem is too thin. I'd like a theory that sits closer to the text, as clearly the biblical links do.
The Nichols translation has:
The day of seven is the best of all,
So full of hpe and joy:
The hours will bring ennui
Tomorrow, and sadness, making everyone
Return in thought to his accustomed toil.
The seven days I see as the creation. But whereas God can create in 7 days, man cannot, and has to return to his toil, which brings us to Adam and Eve and their expulsion from the Garden of Eden.
I was wondering about the crone - as the old woman is referred to in the Nichols - and original sin. The image of her is of Arachnae who challenged Athena and was turned into a spider for spinning the Infidelities of the Gods. Does this link to original sin - and the cause of man's toil? The first half is about women - and their anticipation and reflection on the Holy day. The second part is about toil. Does the ending with the young boys represent inocence?
Oh that makes it clearer. Yeah, I think I misread which day was being referred to there. Ultimately, though, the point that I'm making still stands. What I was saying is that people in this poem think about the next day, rather than the one they're in. On Saturday, the farmer goes home thinking about his day of rest. On Saturday, the boys are happy about the coming Sunday, the girl gets ready for the socializing on Sunday. But, when Sunday actually comes and there's hope and joy, Leopardi jumps over the day itself. Suddenly we're into Monday and the "sadness" and "ennui" are upon us. There isn't much enjoyment of the actual present day. Everyone is looking ahead--or sometimes behind. The poem itself is looking ahead--or sometimes behind. But there's little appreciation of the present day.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
That seems a little far-fetched given what we know about Leopardi. What you're saying makes the poem sound like a pretty typical discussion of fallen man. It's the kind of thing you would expect someone very sure of their faith to write: that man is fallen, but he will eventually be redeemed. That's pretty optimistic. But Leopardi wasn't exactly a super-Christian--if such a title exists. Virgil asked whether he was an atheist when we discussing the last poem, and I think that's a fair question. He certainly has doubts, and he doesn't care for the usual doctrine. Read his poem about the monument to Dante or "The Flower in the Desert" and this really comes out.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
That's why I tend to think that the problems being discussed in the second half of the poem (the fact that Sunday is a long time coming, and the carpenter has to work overtime) has more to with man being secular than it does with man being fallen. It's also why I brought up the Enlightenment. Leopardi isn't referring to specific Enlightenment thinkers, or anything like that, but he's certainly talking about secularization--which is very much a result of the Enlightenment. I brought up specific examples of Enlightenment thought as illustration, not to say to say that he was referring to these individual people. That would be crazy. Why would he be talking about French painting? Really, I'm just saying that he's talking about secularization. And it's not just this poem which takes up this theme. For a closer look at Leopardi's view on this read "Various thoughts on philosophy and literature" where he specifically talks about how the rise of reason has challenged myth and religion--and even replaced them.
As usual, the poem is about a lot of things. But parts of it seem to be about secularization.
Yeah, I think you're right. They're eagerly expecting something that the poet knows more about and questions. The speaker is more knowledgeable, but it's debatable whether that knowledge is really desirable. You could argue that the children represent innocence and the speaker represents experience. I think you and I disagree about what that experience entails, though. As I was saying above, his experience seems to point to skepticism rather than worldly, post-lapsarian kind of knowledge. What he knows doesn't suggest earthly evil, rather it suggests questioning.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
According to "A Leopardi Reader" by Ottavio M. Casale, Sunday Evening was written sometime in October 1820 and Saturday in the Village was written on September 29th 1829. My guess is it comes later in the book because the editor organized the contents chronologically.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lynne50
I was wondering when we would get around to the subject of Leopardi's religious beliefs. My understanding is that he hails from a conservative papal state and converts to atheism sometime in his early twenties. I didn't bring it up in the last poem, because I wasn't sure about the exact date he lost his faith and at the time of Infinitive's creation he would only have been about twenty. But at the time, I was reminded of another Atheist poet Shelley and the ending of his poem Mont Blanc:
when we discussed Leopardi's application of divinity, silence, and emptiness.Quote:
And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,
if to the human mind's imaginings
Silence and solitude were vacancy?
And while we are discussing poetic sympathies, this poem reminds me of the beginning of Thomas Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1751) with it's
more than it does Marvel and his mowers. Leopardi is more likely to remind me of James Thomson and his City of Dreadful Night for it's cynicism and melancholy, or Alexander Pope for his classical learning and physical deformity.Quote:
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day...
The plowman homeward plods his weary way
Happiness for the older people appears to be anticipatory or a function of recollection, while the younger ones are happy in the moment. As in the last poem, sound is a joyful noise be it whistling, shouting, or the bell pealing.
He mentions the color blue twice. I wonder if he meant something by that.
I think you and I disagree about what that experience entails, though. As I was saying above, his experience seems to point to skepticism rather than worldly, post-lapsarian kind of knowledge. Quark
I wouldn't say that yet Quark. I'm still rolling ideas about, and i wouldn't count my knowledge of the Enlightenment or of Leopardi's life as up to much.
That seems a little far-fetched given what we know about Leopardi. What you're saying makes the poem sound like a pretty typical discussion of fallen man. It's the kind of thing you would expect someone very sure of their faith to write: that man is fallen, but he will eventually be redeemed. That's pretty optimistic. But Leopardi wasn't exactly a super-Christian--if such a title exists. Virgil asked whether he was an atheist when we discussing the last poem, and I think that's a fair question. He certainly has doubts, and he doesn't care for the usual doctrine. Read his poem about the monument to Dante or "The Flower in the Desert" and this really comes out.
I think it is referred to, but I'm unsure of the reason as to why it's there. You seem pretty clear on your interpretation - but I'm not there yet. I don't dispute his loss of faith - his focus seems to be on worldly suffering rather than salvation I agree.
Still musing:D
Quark, I'm pretty sure he's referring to Monday with those lines. I had orignally read it as Sunday, but it became clearer on further reads. Judging by your subsequent posts, I think you now agree.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
Yes. The kind of analysis Quark made is valid toward an entire opus of a author's works. Unless the poet is specifically making a point about the Enlightenment and Romanticism or whatever, you need to have solid connections, not just suggestive possibilities.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
What do you want to say about it? When it comes up in a poem someone will bring it up I'm sure. I thought it was suggested in "Infinitive" in the Grennan translation, but the Nichols translation really pointed toward a divinity, and when I read the actual Italian, I believe the Nichols translation is correct. In this poem, "Saturday In The Village," I don't see any suggestion of atheism. Quite the contrary.Quote:
Originally Posted by mortalterror
And while we are discussing poetic sympathies, this poem reminds me of the beginning of Thomas Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1751) with it's
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day...
The plowman homeward plods his weary way
Yes... but not surprising, Mortal. As Casale states elsewhere in The Leopardi Reader the "graveyard poets" were favorites and major influences.
It is an interesting subject. When someone with the atheistic views that Leopardi seemed to have at the time writes a poem with so many religious overtones like those in "Saturday in the Village," it creates quite a tension. I'm sure lots could be said about it, but it's getting a little late tonight. Tomorrow, I'll come back to this.Quote:
Originally Posted by mortalterror
I certainly see some parallels. What do you make of the attitude of the two poems toward the waning day, though? Gray's poem appears a little less cheerful. Leopardi writes about the farmer and the boys eagerly anticipating the coming day. I think the Leopardi's speaker has some reservations about all this, but the people in the poem are nothing if not hopeful. You might want to spell your comparison out more. I think I see what you're saying, but I'm not entirely sure.Quote:
Originally Posted by mortalterror
I'm not really there, either--just throwing ideas out there. I just read the poem a few days ago, and I hadn't read any Leopardi up until a week or two ago. This is still pretty new to me.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Well, clearly I thought what I was saying was "valid." I wouldn't have bothered posting if it wasn't. All I'm arguing is that the first half of the poem builds up our expectation for a happy country Sunday, but, in the second half of the poem, there's no payoff. Instead, there's equivocation from Leopardi. The first half of the poem ends with the farmhand "Thinking about his day of rest," and we're in this mood of warm anticipation. Yet, once we get into the second half of the poem we find carpenter banging away when "every other light is out." The poet talks about the expectation of a joyous feast day, but he or she skips over it when they consider the future. We hear about a "warmest welcome," but soon it's Monday. What happened to the Sunday we were hearing about? And, in the last lines, Leopardi's speaker tells us that our Sunday may be a long time coming. Why? What's going on here? That's the question I'm driving at. I brought up the Enlightenment and Leopardi's secular views as a possible explanation of that question.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Now, if you don't agree with what I wrote, that's fine. But you've posted a few glib, two-sentence responses to my posts, and I really can't do anything with those. When you say something like "The kind of analysis Quark made is valid toward an entire opus of a author's works," what am I supposed to say back to that? "No, I think it is valid." I guess this is your opinion, but I don't know why it's your opinion. What is "the kind of analysis Quark made?" What does that mean? Why would it be valid for "entire opus of a author's works," but not an individual work? You don't give reasons for why you disagree. You simply want to register that what I'm saying is completely off-base--which seems unnecessarily hostile. I'm just describing what I think is an interesting angle to the poem. If you've got a better idea about what's going on in this poem, put it forward. I'm more than willing to talk about other ways of talking about the poem. It's quite possible that's there's a far better answer to the question I posed above about the absent Sunday. Or, maybe the Sunday is purely cheerful after all. I don't know, but you have to give us something to work with.
It actually was brought up. Paulclem's and my own posts directly above mortal's brought that issue into play. In fact, I asked about his atheism pretty outright. mortal may have been trying give more details about an idea that was floated out there. Of course, I can never tell with mortal. I'm never clear when he's joking.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Well, I'm sorry Quark, if you feel offended. But there's no way anyone can validate whole eras of intellectual movements from a dozen lines from a single poem, and multiple eras within a single work? Look that's over intellectualizing. Artists don't sit and think I'll fit into this era or that. Art just doesn't work that way.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
That's funny. No, LitNet is a little too casual to get offended over. Really, there's only three things that offend me: criticizing my favorite sports teams, the low salaries of teachers, and pointless emoticons (oh, how I loathe that last one). I was just surprised you were giving me such a hard time on this thread. Usually, you're pretty laid-back, but now you're telling me all about things that "there's no way anyone can" do. It's taking me a moment to adjust.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Well, you and I could have some academic discussion about the extent that art interacts with intellectual movements, but that seems beside the point. As I've said in a number of posts, I'm not arguing that the poem is making direct reference to the Enlightenment. What I'm saying is that there's some uncertainty about the coming Sunday in Leopardi's "Saturday in the Village," and that the uncertainty has something to do with secularization. The poem raises the idea of a pleasant, enjoyable Sunday in the first half, but in the second half we find some disconcerting details. The carpenter has to "strain" and "sweat" when one would expect the day to be over. The poem looks forward to the Sunday, but when the poet considers the future Sunday is skipped over rather quickly and we move into Monday. What happened to Sunday? And, in the last lines, Leopardi tells us that our Sunday may be delayed. Why? This points to some uncertainty about Sunday. I suggested that the uncertainty may reflect secularization. The carpenter has to work overtime because life doesn't conform to the Bible's idea of a six-day work week. Sunday might be skipped over because ultimately it's empty. Our Sunday may be a long time coming because the promises made by religion may not be fulfilled. That was the interpretation I was offering. I brought up the Enlightenment as evidence for what I saying. I pointed out that the Enlightenment encouraged secularization, and that Leopardi held some rather atheistic positions. It would make sense that given what we know about the historical and biographical context of the poem that he could be talking about unbelief entering into our worldview. That's all I'm saying.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Well, if I had known that, I would have revealed that I think the Chicago Cubs stink, teachers are over paid, and :svengo::driving::auto:.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
:p
I wasn't intentionally giving you a hard time. I was just disagreeing with something you said.Quote:
I was just surprised you were giving me such a hard time on this thread. Usually, you're pretty laid-back, but now you're telling me all about things that "there's no way anyone can" do. It's taking me a moment to adjust.
Ah, now that's a legitamate point. Forget any reference to an intellectual movement, let's focus on what the poem says. But still I have to disagree. The second to last stanza is fairly clear that Sunday is the best day of the week:Quote:
Well, you and I could have some academic discussion about the extent that art interacts with intellectual movements, but that seems beside the point. As I've said in a number of posts, I'm not arguing that the poem is making direct reference to the Enlightenment. What I'm saying is that there's some uncertainty about the coming Sunday in Leopardi's "Saturday in the Village," and that the uncertainty has something to do with secularization.
I don't see anything in the poem that would suggest secularism. If Sunday is not heavenly bliss, that's just the toil of life.Quote:
This one [Saturday] get this warmest welcome,
Full of hope, as it is, and joy.
Tomorrow the hours will be leaden
With emptiness and melancholy,
Everybody going back in his mind
To the daily grind. (39-44)
OK, I hear you.Quote:
The poem raises the idea of a pleasant, enjoyable Sunday in the first half, but in the second half we find some disconcerting details. The carpenter has to "strain" and "sweat" when one would expect the day to be over. The poem looks forward to the Sunday, but when the poet considers the future Sunday is skipped over rather quickly and we move into Monday. What happened to Sunday? And, in the last lines, Leopardi tells us that our Sunday may be delayed. Why? This points to some uncertainty about Sunday. I suggested that the uncertainty may reflect secularization. The carpenter has to work overtime because life doesn't conform to the Bible's idea of a six-day work week. Sunday might be skipped over because ultimately it's empty. Our Sunday may be a long time coming because the promises made by religion may not be fulfilled. That was the interpretation I was offering. I brought up the Enlightenment as evidence for what I saying. I pointed out that the Enlightenment encouraged secularization, and that Leopardi held some rather atheistic positions. It would make sense that given what we know about the historical and biographical context of the poem that he could be talking about unbelief entering into our worldview. That's all I'm saying.
My reading, thanks to Paul's insight of the poem's subtext of death and the carpenter (Christ) possibly building a coffin, is that Sunday is the rest that comes at the end of life, the cessation of toil. But the poem has a circular movement. One generation passeth and the next cometh, and the new week starts with the toil returning.
Oh, there's no doubt that Sunday is the best day of the week. It's just that it never comes. Sunday is skipped over or delayed indefinitely. When we look at the other Sunday poem, "Sunday Evening," I think we'll see the same thing going on there, too. The feast day is just an idea--it's not something that's actually experienced.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I think I see the point you're making, but I'm not sure. Are you saying that if there's any problem with Sunday it's due to that fact that man is fallen? Is that what you're going for?Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Are we ready to move on to a new poem yet? Sunday Evening was suggested earlier I think. No rush if not.