Ivor Gurney |
Today’s post
could also be titled “Watching the war in the dark,” but this poem is written by musician-turned-soldier Ivor Gurney, who before the war was recognized as a prodigy at the Royal College of Music in London. In "Bach and the Sentry," Gurney imagines
a man who takes his turn on sentry duty, standing on the firestep of the trench
and gazing out over No Man’s Land.
An Observer, E. Handley Read © IWM (Art.IWM ART 178) |
Bach and the Sentry
Ivor Gurney
Watching the
dark my spirit rose in flood
On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
The low-lying mist lifted its hood,
The October stars showed nobly in clear night.
When I return, and to real music-making,
And play that Prelude, how will it happen then?
Shall I feel as I felt, a sentry hardly waking,
With a dull sense of No Man's Land again?
On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
The low-lying mist lifted its hood,
The October stars showed nobly in clear night.
When I return, and to real music-making,
And play that Prelude, how will it happen then?
Shall I feel as I felt, a sentry hardly waking,
With a dull sense of No Man's Land again?
The poem captures the brief
moment when remembered notes of classical music sing into the tense and lonely boredom
of sentry duty. Sounding of hope and
delight, memories of Bach’s “dearest Prelude” give life to the deadened scene
before the sentry: the mist assumes the form of a pilgrim
traveler and lifts its hood to so that it can be seen and known, and the stars
grace the night sky with a majestic and dignified presence.
The music causes
the sentry to dare to contemplate survival -- not "if" but "when" he returns to a world where
Bach’s Prelude can ring out on instruments, rather than echoing in a
solitary man’s mind. And yet….although
the music will be unchanged, the man who has experienced The Great War fears that he will
forever hear the notes differently, as the music cannot help but recall the exhaustion and loneliness of nights spent staring into No Man’s Land.
Gurney did
survive the war, but he returned a changed man. By 1922, four years after the war’s end, he
had attempted suicide several times and was committed to a private asylum near
his home in Gloucester. Twice he
attempted to escape, and after being recaptured for the second time, he was
moved to an asylum near London. Helen Thomas, the widow of Edward, the dead war poet, visited Gurney at the Dartford asylum and described finding "a tall gaunt dishevelled man clad in pyjamas and dressing gown." Gurney never left the asylum, but died there in 1937. Buried in his beloved Gloucester, his
gravestone reads, “To the Dear Memory of Ivory Gurney, Musician and Poet, A
Lover and Maker of Beauty.”
You can click on the above video to listen to Bach's Prelude in G Minor. In the spring of 1917, Ivor Gurney wrote that Bach's Prelude in G Minor “sticks
to me in solemn moments.” He added that while it might qualify as the “dearest Prelude,” the poem wasn't written about a specific composition.
Not sure I understand this poem at all. Your explanation is beautiful and I really like listening to the Prelude. Also love the painting. Poetry is VERY hard for me. Give me more music and art!!
ReplyDelete"All I want is — guerre fini, soldat fini; and to go home without burden of any thought save music, and hard swot for a time."
ReplyDeleteGurney in a letter to Marion Scott August 24 1918
The war did end and Gurney went home. But of course the war stayed with him for the rest of his life.
This account reminds me of Keats' "Ode on a Greacian Urn" where a certain line reads "Heard melodies are sweet but those unheard are sweeter". Gurney himself must have felt so in this absolute desolation as he was gazing over the No Man's Land. The music must have sounded in his mind over and over remindidng him the peaceful moments he had at home. We hear the best music by our mind, not by sensual ear.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely and insightful comment. Thanks for sharing, Mustafa.
Delete