Areopagus Volume XIII

Welcome one and all to the thirteenth volume of Areopagus.

Some of you have very kindly been forwarding the Areopagus to your friends - only to find that your friends have no way of subscribing, should they like the newsletter. Well, I've now added a subscribe button at the bottom of the Areopagus to solve this exact problem.

And with that said, let's make this week a little more interesting, useful, and beautiful...

I - Classical Music

Se la Mia Morte Brami

Carlo Gesualdo (1611)

Why this piece?

There's something eternally enchanting about choral music. To hear the human voice unaccompanied by instruments, pushed to its limits and harmonising or contrasting with other voices in all their kaleidoscopic texture and power... it cannot fail to move. Gesualdo's Se la Mia Morte Brami is a solemn, imploring piece of music, pregnant with - if you'll forgive an oxymoron - melancholic passion.

Another reason I chose this piece is its lyrics. They were written by one of my favourite poets, the brilliant and slightly mad genius Torquato Tasso. His monumental Jerusalem Delivered (also known as The Liberation of Jerusalem) was a literary landmark, bringing together the Arthurian, Classical, and Carolingian styles into a masterpiece of epic poetry. Published in 1581, Jerusalem Delivered was hugely influential in literature, art, and music for nearly three centuries before it suffered a decline in popularity. I highly recommend reading it.

(Just to be clear, Tasso didn't write these lyrics for Gesualdo. Rather, he lifted them from one of Tasso's poems and set them to music.)

What style is it?

This is a madrigal. The madrigal was a musical form popular in the Renaissance Era (1400-1600). They were highly elaborate and composed for multiple voices - anywhere from two to eight - and usually unaccompanied by instruments. It's also important to note that madrigals were a form of secular music, i.e. non-religious. The rise of secular music was a key trend in the Renaissance Era.

Who was Carlo Gesualdo?

Carlo Gesualdo (1566-1613) was an Italian composer, born in the Kingdom of Naples, and among the most important of the Renaissance. The Baroque Era is often regarded as beginning in the year 1600, but such catch-all terms are inevitably broad and never quite capture the process of one stylistic era morphing into another. As such, we can comfortably call Gesualdo a Renaissance composer.

And what a composer he was! Gesualdo's many madrigals are now famous for their unusual complexity and progressive musical qualities, neither of which were really matched until the late 19th century, over two hundred years later.

Gesualdo's personal life has also long-captivated other musicians and artists. On the 16th October, 1590, he came home to find his wife Donna Maria in bed with the Duke of Andria, Fabrizio Carafa. Gesualdo killed them both, and a subsequent investigation absolved him of any wrongdoing. He later suffered from severe depression, with some speculating that he was haunted by guilt, and there are clear indications that this mental anguish influenced his work. There has since been a great deal of music composed about Gesualdo, along with several operas and films.

II - Historical Figure

Ptolemy

The most famous of ancient astronomers

Why is he interesting?

Claudius Ptolemy (100-170 AD) was something of a polymath whose work was considered definitive for over one thousand years. We know that he was a Roman citizen - the name Claudius indicates as much - but he was most likely a Greek or Hellenized Egyptian; he was born and raised in Alexandria, the splendid capital of Hellenic Egypt and for many years the world's foremost city.

Ptolemy was, among other things, an astronomer, mathematician, musicologist, geographer, philosopher, and astrologer. While his description of the world's geography was, understandably, inaccurate, Ptolemy's study of the stars was not. His Almagest is one of the most important scientific works ever written. Even if its description of a geocentric universe (with the earth at the centre) has since been proven inaccurate, his measurement of astronomical distances and cataloguing of the constellations were more or less spot on. Of the officially recognised eighty eight constellations in the present day, over forty of them were recorded and designated by Ptolemy.

But it would be wrong to suggest that Ptolemy figured out all these things on his own. Indeed, I think he is more interesting as an historical figure because of what he represents rather than who he actually was. And what does Ptolemy represent? Ancient astronomy. He built on the work of other ancient astronomers, especially the Greeks and the Babylonians, who knew far more about the cosmos than is generally recognised.

As mentioned, Ptolemy wrongly thought the earth was the centre of the universe - but he did know the earth was round. And, more to the point, his idea of a geocentric cosmos was formulated in opposition to alternative ancient theories, such as that of 3rd century B.C. astronomer Aristarchus of Samos, who correctly believed the earth revolved around the sun.

These ancient astronomers, without computers or satellites or telescopes, made impressively accurate calculations of the length of a year, of the seasons, and of astronomical distances. Eratosthenes - who was born in 276 B.C. and was, like Ptolemy, a polymath - calculated the circumference of the Earth to within 1% of the actual figure. Astonishing.

This image shows the errors in Ptolemy's star catalogue. His placements are blue, while modern corrections are in grey. I think this is ample proof that our ancestors were, in some ways, much more scientifically aware than we often give them credit for.

III - Painting

A Storm in the Rocky Mountains

Albert Bierstadt (1866)

Why this painting?

A Storm in the Rocky Mountains speaks for itself. It is a lavish, highly detailed, breath-taking, monumental work of landscape art. You can't help but be struck by the sheer scale and beauty of this mountain wilderness. The chiaroscuro - an Italian term for the interplay of light and dark tones - is particularly majestic. In the upper-left of the painting you can see a snowy summit which is almost heavenly, ensconced as it is in luminescent clouds, while the valley directly below, ominously shrouded in shadow and storm clouds, is rather hellish in comparison. You could study this painting for hours, discovering new details - like the winding river in the lower-left corner - again and again and again...

Who was Albert Bierstadt?

Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902) was born in Prussia, but his family moved to America when he was still a baby. And so Bierstadt is regarded as a German-American, though with much more emphasis on the American. He fell in with the Hudson River School of artists, a group of Romantic landscape painters who sought to depict the vast American wilderness. They were typical Romantics, focussed on natural beauty, drama, human spirit, and emotion. However, Bierstadt's career coincided with the Westward Expansion. So rather than focussing on the Hudson River Valley in New York, his art usually depicted the Rocky Mountains on the far side of the continent.

What style is it?

As mentioned above, Bierstadt was part of the Hudson River School. So, in the broadest sense, A Storm in the Rocky Mountains can be classified as an American Romantic painting. But there's something else going on here. In the 1850s a new style of painting known as luminism rose to prominence. Luminism emphasised natural tranquillity and diffused light, and often featured peaceful, reflective water surfaces. Crucially, another key stylistic element of luminism was the careful concealment of brush-strokes, which lent a photograph quality to its paintings. You can see that clearly in A Storm in the Rocky Mountains.

IV - Architectural Masterpiece

Palazzo Caprini

The most influential building you've never heard of...

Fact-File

The Palazzo Caprini, originally built in 1510, was demolished in 1841. Hence why there are no photographs of it, only drawings and engravings. It was designed by the great Italian architect Donato Bramante, who played a key role in the evolution of Renaissance architecture and its use of the classical style. He took what his predecessors had done - rediscovering Greek-inspired Roman architecture - and ran with it.

The legendary Renaissance artist Raphael bought the house in 1517 and lived there until his death three years later. Hence it is often known as the Palazzo di Raffaello, or Raphael's House. Having fallen into total disrepair by the late 16th century, the Palazzo Caprini was thoroughly renovated and incorporated into a new palazzo, leaving very little of Bramante's original design.

Why is it a masterpiece?

There's a lot to talk about here. On on the hand, the Palazzo Caprini epitomises Renaissance architecture. Bramante took the language of classical design from Rome - rounded arches, columns, entablatures etc. - and created a masterful, modern reinterpretation. What is most interesting about the Palazzo Caprini, however, is its colossal legacy.

That specific combination of a rough-looking arcade (series of arches) for the bottom storey with a classical order of columns on the second storey became a standard model for centuries. It seems relatively simple - and it is. But that's the beauty of the Palazzo Caprini. And bear in mind that it was a new idea at the time.

One example of a building which has taken directly from Bramante's Palazzo is Somerset House in London. Here is a photograph of Somerset House alongside an 18th century drawing of the building, which will give you a clear idea of its relationship with the Palazzo Caprini. But Somerset House is just one notable example among thousands. Look out for this design - a rough arcade below a classical order - and you'll see it everywhere.

V - Rhetoric

Yoda

That's right: Yoda. This little green Jedi is one of the most famous characters in pop culture. And I think this goes beyond his appearance, age, wisdom, and starring role in a legendary film franchise. See, Yoda's words are instantly recognisable, not only because of Frank Oz's brilliant voice acting but also because of the dialogue George Lucas wrote for him.

Yoda uses a number of rhetorical devices that would have made Quintilian proud. So let's break down a few of his iconic quotes:

This is Yoda's most famous technique, the inversion normal word order. That's called hyperbaton.

This is a classic use of antithesis, which is the contrasting of two opposing ideas in a single sentence.

A brilliant case of polyptoton here. That's the repetition of words with the same root, such as shadow and shade or wise, wiser, and wisdom.

This technique is called anadiplosis. It's the repetition of the last word of a clause at the beginning of the next.

I really don't think presenting Yoda as an example of the power of rhetorical devices is facetious. One of the reasons he has become such an iconic character is his use of language. And his distinctive voice stem directly from his rhetorical brilliance. From Yoda we can learn much, no?

VI - Writing

Beware Jargon

We turn again to the great and sadly forgotten Arthur Quiller-Couch, a genuine linguistic expert and erstwhile literary titan. I highly recommend On the Art of Writing, his masterful treatise on the use of the English language. There's one specific part of it I want to mention today.

Quiller-Couch, like George Orwell a few decades later, lamented the state of modern writing. He was a vociferous critic of what he called "Jargon" - needlessly complex, roundabout language.

See here for what he means:

Such needless complexity - with which I'm sure you're all familiar - is fundamentally pointless. It buries the writer's actual meaning beneath a pile of big words and convoluted sentences. This forces the reader to expend mental energy trying to figure out what on earth you're actually saying. People who use Jargon perhaps think it makes them sound more intelligent. Quite the opposite; it's actually rather foolish.

But the real trouble with Jargon, according to Quiller-Couch, is that it's a sort of weird social trend. Writers copy one another and end up using the same contrived expressions. Rather than than I think they all say In this case I am of the opinion that. And when you do this - copying, even unconsciously, the words of other people - you end saying the exact same things as other people. Worse than that, you end up thinking the same thoughts as other people.

This is a problem for very obvious reasons, not least that it makes your work boring, but I think it also touches on something fundamental about writing: that everybody has a unique voice. We all see the world differently, and therefore we express ourselves differently. But to do that you need to use your own words. As Quiller-Couch explains, rather eloquently:

So by using Jargon we destroy our authorial voice. Our words become unmemorable and, basically, irrelevant. We're just restating what other people have said, literally and figuratively. So beware Jargon; it's a writer's worst enemy.

VII - Historical Anecdote

Roman Olive Relish

We return to the ever popular theme of historical cuisine. This recipe comes from Cato the Elder (234-149 B.C.), a fascinating figure from Roman history who was, coincidentally, the first Historical Figure ever featured in Areopagus. He was a soldier, politician, historian and (sort of) philosopher who came to define the Ancient Roman idea that simplicity was a virtue. This recipe comes from On Agriculture, his treatise on farming. Indeed, Cato was famous for living on a farm instead of in a metropolitan mansion.

Here is what Cato wrote:

And here is a helpful interpretation of that recipe, courtesy of the British Museum:

(Serves 4)

Ingredients

• 120g black olives
• 120g green olives
• 4 tbsp red wine vinegar
• 4 tbsp olive oil
• 1 heaped tsp chopped fennel leaf or finely diced fennel root
• 1/2 level tsp ground cumin (optional)
• 2 tsp chopped fresh coriander
• 2 tsp dried or chopped fresh rue (you can use a bitter a bitter herb or spice such as fenugreek seed as a substitute)
• 2 heaped tsp dried or 3 tsp chopped fresh mint

Method

1. Chop the olives roughly and pour on the vinegar and olive oil.
2. Prepare the herbs, chopping them finely if fresh, and add to the mixture.
3. Place the olive relish in a sealable container and pour a little olive oil over the top. At this stage it can be eaten, as Cato firmly says, but it does improve with a few days’ marinating.
4. Try it with pitta bread, accompanied by a sharp sheep’s cheese such as feta.

Question of the Week

Last week's question to test your critical thinking was:

Is love just a chemical reaction?

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this question generated some heart-felt and beautiful responses. I simply have to share Elif D's wonderfully eloquent meditation:

While Dahlia M took a scientific view of things:

I particularly liked Jackson M's mixed answer, in which he recognise that love might be both a chemical reaction and something more:

And for this week's question to test your critical thinking:

What is the point of art?

And that's all

To know that the Areopagus - which is far more than just a newsletter for me - will be going out to people all across the world is deeply humbling. I struggle to think of a greater privilege than sharing these beautiful works of art and fragments of history with you all. So - thank you.

Yours,

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