The wondrous heather of the Yorkshire moors.
The Yorkshire moors where we lived at the time are famous for the heather that blooms in late summer. This is one of my favorite spots; I have no idea what this tower is or why it’s there, but it certainly inspires the imagination.
Dance of Death, by Michael Wolgemut
There is little more terrifying than the thought of the dead risen; grim skeletons, grinning with their scythes and bearing down upon you, inescapable.
Death was everywhere in the fourteenth century. For a hundred years, France and England had been pitting their men against each other, drenching the earth with blood and filling graves with the mutilated bodies of the wounded. The crops grew poor, and the poor grew hungry; famine and disease were rampant. And most terrifying of all, a death that crept upon the young and old alike, one that grew great boils upon the skin and moved from person to person with frightening swiftness. The plague decimated nearly half of the European population during its time, and the lives of men hung by a thread.
It is against this background that the first records of the Totentanz, the Dance of the Dead, are known. In a cultural landscape dominated by murder, war, adultery and disease, people grew suddenly terrified of god’s wrath, knowing they could be struck down at any moment. In an effort to find reprise from the horrors of life, the vision of one, last moment of joy, even on the way to the end, swept across the lands: the final dance to the grave.
In these times, where salvation was futilely sought in the houses of god, the hymns of mass began to see the introduction of a new plainchant: the Dies Irae. This melody, full of gloom and storm, speaks of the wrath of god, the day of judgement and the ending of the world.
Original Dies Irae plainchant (c. 1260)
These sights and sounds of horrifying death endured, and nearly six hundred years later, were still incorporated into the art of the Romantic era. Franz Liszt (1811 – 1886) was one of these artists: an eccentric, infamous and exceptionally talented pianist and composer. He was the rock star of his day, sought after to perform, dazzling men and women alike with his superhuman pianistic wizardry (Liszt had enormous hands, and to this day some of his scores remain unplayable due to the stretches required).
Part of the original manuscript, in Liszt’s hand, for Totentanz for Piano and Orchestra.
Liszt was also a macabre individual fascinated by death and the medieval; he would often visit asylums, hospitals and even the dungeons of condemned prisoners, fasciated by those on the edge of death. Many of his works show the influence of these thoughts, but perhaps none more so than the dismal, thunderous and terrifying Totentanz for piano and orchestra. A set of variations on the Dies Irae plainchant, it begins with a rumbling, indiscernible piano, across which cuts the lowest instruments the orchestra has to offer, growling the Dies Irae with threatening ferocity. From there, we are swept away on a journey of madness and death, the pianist battling frantically against the inexorable march of the orchestra, flying to great heights and abysmal depths in an attempt to flee. At times, we are taken to one side, shown a moment of compassion, a moment of sadness, or even of humor – but always, we return to the rush and the doom.
Finally, the work builds to a frenetic climax, the pianist and orchestra verily trembling in fright, before plunging, without compromise or reprise, into the depths of the grave.
Liszt’s Totentanz is one of the most technically difficult pieces he ever wrote, and one of the darkest. Only some of his late compositions for piano, such as Nuages Gris, truly suggest a maudlin resignation to the ending of life, while many more of his compositions center around the country tunes of his native Hungary, and the sparkle and showmanship that gained him such fame that he wanted for nothing by his mid-forties.
Nonetheless, Liszt remained obsessed with death until the ending of his own life, in 1886. In his last years he suffered from many illnesses, some of which left him partially paralyzed and unable to play. His preoccupation with death increased with the knowledge that his own was fast approaching, and in July, he died in his bed. He has left us with a legacy of beauty, darkness and despair, and his works remain worthy of awe to this day.
This is all getting a little bit too much, and I’m starting to get worried. My blog appears to be having an unintentional effect on some of the people reading it. At first, I thought it was just a one-off, and I reassured myself it wouldn’t happen again.
The second time, I began to be concerned. What kind of thoughts was I planting in my readers’ heads? Without meaning it, I was playing mind games; I actually seemed to have the power to redirect their thoughts. It was worrisome.
And now – it has happened a third time. And I realize that it is now inescapable. I began this blog as a way to express myself, to open myself and my writing to the world. As it grew, I began to write about other topics that concerned and humored me, and over time, I realized that there were a few people out there who seemed interested in what I had to say. Some of them told me their thoughts; others gave me feedback without comment.
And so it appears that, for as long as I continue to blog, these things will keep happening. I have to remind myself that it is outside of my power to influence these people, and they will act the way they do when they read my words. I must simply accept it.
That’s right: I’ve received another award!
I made my own again – what do you think?
This one comes courtesy of Dan Kline, over at What to do about me and D.I.D.. I discovered his blog a while back, and have been touched at his daily struggles, and the commitment he makes to his family in spite of them. I’ve gained inspiration from him for my own turbulence, and his support has come to mean a lot. He has also shown a remarkable devotion to my little story, and his multitudinous compliments have turned my ears red on more than one occasion!
So in a lovely irony, he has nominated me for the Reader Appreciation Award – being one of my most-appreciated readers!
Now, this award comes with a few rules, so I will abide by them this time…
Or not. The truth is, the bloggers I appreciate know who they are, and if they don’t (!), they’re at the bottom of every page, all the time. Bear in mind that there are many, many blogs out there that I love; these ones are those that have impacted me, and made a difference in my life.
And now, you get to learn even more about me!
And that’s it! This award is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.
Satis Writes 