Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff
The poet A. E. Housman isn’t remembered very widely anymore. He wrote some fine poems, but not very many of them – it appears that he largely ceased to write after his 20s, spending most of his life at Cambridge as a scholar of obscure classical works. Writing in the late Victorian period, he was too early to be one of the Modernists – Eliot, Pound, Stevens, Cummings, and so on – who emerged during his later years. Apparently disappointed in love as a young man, he never gave himself the opportunity to be disappointed again.
Housman’s poetry reflects a bleak outlook on life. But he also had a sardonic streak that I prize. He was able to apply it to himself, which preserves him from the temptation to whine. This month’s poem displays that sardonic streak to perfection, as Housman addresses the critics who wish he had a sunnier outlook. I should note that Terence Hearsay was Housman’s sometime nom de plume.
Housman also wrote my all-time favorite lines of literary criticism. Here is his assessment of 18th century poet Alexander Pope:
That Pope was a poet is true; but it is one of those truths which are beloved of liars, because they serve so well the cause of falsehood. That Pope was not a poet is false; but a righteous man, standing in awe of the last judgment and the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, might well prefer to say it.
“Amen” seems the only possible response.
- Jack Jr.
Oosisoak
I think I’ve mentioned previously that I’m currently reading through a pretty good one-volume history of the United States. Paul Johnson is always an enjoyable read and he makes interesting decisions when it comes to where he turns his focus. One part that is not a surprise (if you are familiar with Johnson, that is) is how much time he spends writing about art. Johnson’s father was an artist and led an art school, and art was one of Johnson’s great loves. Thus, when the opportunity arises he always takes advantage of it, and has interesting thoughts to share.
In the book I’m reading now, I just finished a section on American art in the mid-to-late 19th century. I especially enjoyed the passage about the Hudson River School. As I looked up the paintings and artists Johnson mentioned, I was struck by something in the worlds of Frederic Edwin Church. Amidst all the landscapes was a single portrait of a dog.
Now, when it comes to art, I’m not usually someone who is drawn towards portraiture (John Singer Sargent comes to mind as an exception).1 That’s probably why I liked Church to begin with — his landscapes are incredible. But I felt very strongly drawn to this painting, Oosisoak. So, I did some research and it was actually a bit of a challenge to find out anything. I was struck to learn that Church didn’t do any other portraits that we know of. This is the only one. Oosisoak was the lead sled dog of his friend, Isaac Israel Hayes, and the painting seems to have been a spontaneous decision on Church’s part.
I’ve never purchased a print of a painting before, and I’m not quite sure what it is about Oosisoak, but it might be the first.2
- Jack III
I realize that it borders on caricature that I much more interested in paintings of landscapes than paintings with people.
I would just like to note how pleased I am that I have finally paired Dad’s monthly poem with some actual culture.
Ditto the amen and go for the dog. Hugs