The body dies; the body’s beauty lives,
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of Winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden’s choral.
Poetry makes puzzles out of words, puzzles I have spent many happy hours trying to unravel, sometimes to my satisfaction, many times not, but the process, always pleasure, absorbs interest and makes distractions distant. The above six lines are from a poem by Wallace Stevens titled “Peter Quince at the Clavier“. I have been reading this poem at irregular intervals over thirty years. It still delights me, and confuses in fitful measures. The words flow like the wind, like the scarves of Susanna, the young woman bathing in the evening in a garden pool. Susanna’s story is in the apocryphal books of the Bible, attached to the Book of Daniel. A rousing story in itself, in Williams’s hands it acquires a sensuous music always rewarding to me.
Susanna is spied upon by a pair of old men whose lust is at odds with the dignity of age. She refuses their advances, is charged in revenge by them with a liason with a young man, and endures a public hearing. A searching cross examination of the old men by Daniel clears her, and condemns them.
So much for the material worked to a different purpose by Williams. His poem weaves musings on beauty, transitory nature, passion, memory and music, always music, the clavier of the title is the language of the poem. I have read that this poem has been set to music several times. I have heard none of the pieces, but it seems right that the music of these words should have been matched by notes, chords, measures to be heard as accompaniment to the poetry.
Susanna in her bath finds melody;
In the green water, clear and warm,
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of Springs,
And found
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed,
For so much melody.
She leaves her bath, shivering in the winds that flow like her scarves, and in a blare of horn music, the elders are upon her. The noise of her attendant Byzantines sound like tambourines, but the accusations of the elders isolate Susanna from the regard of others.
There follows a meditation on beauty and mortality that reverses conventions on beauty and immortality;
Beauty is momentary in the mind –
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
Susanna’s physical beauty has taken on a life of its own and caused her near destruction, and through the intervention of Daniel taken the lives of the morally corrupt elders. In the mind, beauty is a concept no longer lived than the intellectual construct, definition, elucidation – cold words – formed in the mind. The physical blow that physical beauty can deal lives on, and is replicated in the beauty of Susanna’s successors.
Mortality claims the individuals, the maidens of the lines first listed here, but their celebration lives on, not as a quantitative thought, but as a moment in a long line of moments when beauty lives in the flesh, and is immortal.