very curious

[winterbadger]

Someone remarked on a list I read that he was preparing, as part of a choral group, to sing Britten's "Hymn to St. Cecilia" and finding the latter portion of the text rather impenetrable. Someone else referred him to this essay for insight into W. H. Auden (the author of the poem on which the hymn is based), Britten, and the meaning of the text. I was struck by the portion of the article that quotes Auden saying to Britten, in part:

Wherever you go you are and probably always will be surrounded by people who adore you, nurse you, and praise everything you do.... Up to a certain point this is fine for you, but beware. You see, Bengy dear, you are always tempted to make things too easy for yourself in this way, i.e. to build yourself a warm nest of love (of course when you get it, you find it a little stifling) by playing the lovable talented little boy.

If you are really to develop to your full stature, you will have, I think, to suffer, and make others suffer, in ways which are totally strange to you at present, and against every conscious value that you have; i.e. you will have to be able to say what you never have had the right to say - God, I'm a shit.

That seems to me quite remarkable advice to give to a friend and a creator. I can understand suggesting that one needs to have a wider experience than what is comfortable to produce work that has great depth. But the idea that one needs not only to endure but make others endure incomprehensible and seemingly meaningless pain, to become a truly self-loathing person in order to be a full-fledged artist is both nonsensical and suggestive of a twisted and damaged personality, especially as advice offered by one friend to another.

Though I suppose there are those who would say, "Well, of course--it's Auden."

Comments

[wolfette]

Britten was my maternal grandmother's maiden name. She always said that the composer was a distant cousin of hers.

[magaidhbhan.livejournal.com]

I have nothing to say here except that the Hymn to St. Cecilia is one of my favorite things I have ever sung. I had the violin solo most times -- "O weep, child, weep; O weep away the stain" -- and the long soprano solo -- the stanza beginning "O dear white children casual as birds" -- once. I never really fully bothered to understand the poetry, but loved it all the same for its evocative beauty and the wonderful way Britten played with the emotions. "Love me!" from the "I shall never be different" section has become a catch phrase amongst my friends. And I *love* the way he takes each instrument in the later parts and sets each one's stand-alone line as though it were on the instrument. LOVE.

Also, I'm going to have it running through my head for the rest of the evening. For some reason, the trumpet fanfare is particularly addictive -- "O wear your tribulation like a rose ..."