The Swerve and a bit of Paris

My trip to Paris has been delayed because I am caught up in reading The Swerve: How the World Became Modern by Stephen Greenblatt. It is a fascinating book about one poem written 2000 years ago, lost, then found in the 1400s and how the ideas and philosphies of the poem helped usher in the Renaissance.

The main guy, an Italian named Poggio Bracciolini, was a book-hunter and was on the quest to find Greek and Roman books that were rotting away in monastery libraries. The poem he found was On the Nature of Things written by Lucretius, based on the philosphy of Epicurus.

There is much talk of the books of antiquity: how they were made, who had them, who read them, and how they were lost.

Here is a warning tale: As the Roman empire crumbled...

..the whole Roman system of elementary and higher education fell apart. What began as downsizing went on to wholesale abandonment. Schools closed, libraries and academies shut their doors, professional grammarians and teachers of rhetoric found themselves out of work. There were more important things to worry about than the fate of books.

Those 'more important things' included decaying cities, declining trade, and barbarians at the gate.

Why does this sound like something out of today's newpapers?

Anyway, on to Paris. One of the books on my list is Paris Was Ours which I bought in March and read a story here  and here. I have read quite a few books this year that regale the wonders of Paris and if you have not read The Greater Journey by David McCullough I highly recommend it. It will have you swooning.

On Leaving Paris

Read all day Sunday. Finished The Greater Journey by David McCullough. All 456 pages not including the Source Notes, Bibliography, and Index (although I did browse those).

I was a little sad when we reached the turn of the twentieth century and the American men and women who had filled the streets and studios of Paris were either back home, soon to be dead, or already in the grave.

It was a marvelous journey. I met so many folks I didn't know and many that I just thought I knew. What a project for Mr. McCullough to research and organize and write a book of such scope and detail. And even when I got lost amid some of the unfamiliar names, historical events, dates, and the avenues of Paris, I just let myself go with it.

After all, there wasn't going to be a test or quiz on the information.

I know I was a bit put off at the beginning of the book and I am so glad now that I stuck with it. One page at a time and I was mightily rewarded.

One of the artists mentioned toward the end of the book was a fellow named Robert Henri. Here, in the source notes is what McCullough wrote:

Robert Henri, who was to become a leading American painter of the early twentieth century and was one of the most inspiring of all American art teachers, also wrote a delightful book called The Art Spirit, with recollections of his time in Paris and much else.

Now, I just happen to have a copy of The Art Spirit. It was recommended by a watercolorist when I asked her what was the one book she would want me to read about being an artist. Shortly after that, I found a used copy at a consignment store. This was about a year ago. The shop had just received a great number of art books from the personal library of a local artist who had recently passed away. I bought several. Of course.

The Merry Widow

Painting The Tuileries Gardens, Paris by Maurice Prendergast (1858-1924)

Hied myself off to the opera this afternoon. The Merry Widow.  It was quite amusing about a wealthy widow, her feckless suitors, and her true love. Her true love won out of course. It took place in Paris at the end of the 1800s. There were dancing girls, lavish costumes, and witty dialogue - performed in English, thank heavens! The operetta was written by Austrian Franz Lehar and was first performed in Vienna in 1905.

I have hit my stride with The Greater Journey. Not only am I enjoying learning about the Americans who lived and worked and studied in Paris in the 1830s but I am also getting a fine history lesson about the beautiful city as well. When McCullough writes about the avenues, the Tuileries, the Louvre, and the Seine, I am right there with him. I have been lucky to have visited the City of Light twice now. And I have bruises on my toes to this day from walking its wide sidewalks and strolling down its garden paths. Badges of honor, n'est-ce pas?