Stendhal's Syndrome, parts 4792 - 4795

 4792. He appears in these writings to be a man of some knowledge of the arts, so much so, that he had perhaps reached the point of actual boredom with culture. He wrote down his observations as one who has seen "this kind of thing," a thousand times before, even when the museum fare was strange and unusual.

 4793. Such a man is not good company in a tour of a museum, lacking, because of an excess of familiarity with art, the wonder and astonishment that are so much a part of what the art experience is to people like you and I, who are new to the subject.  Here is what he has to say about an exhibition in Rome.

 4794. I wanted to write about the Quadriennale in Rome. It is a huge show that claims to survey all the important work going on in Italy right now, and other related movements elsewhere in the world. It is an important international exhibition.

 4795. I was unable to do so, however, to the extent that I desired due to the return of a malady I've had for several years now. This illness I have is a variation of Stendhal's syndrome, that condition he described when he became delirious from looking at too much art in Florence.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4788 - 4791

 4788. The Anglican Church near the Via Del Corso has a tradition of presenting musical concerts, and so I went to the church and the vicar there was helpful enough to open his record register and we found that there was a concert of Corelli concertos in the last week of October, in the year 1996.

 4789. I felt certain that, even though I had discovered the sketchbook diary only recently, its important entries were all dated in the late 90's. I soon began to feel that I was piecing together what was the end of a grand love affair at the end of a grand century.

 4790. The diary entry about the concert was referred to as "their last day in Rome." Pardon me for telling my story backwards, but in the diary was a long entry consisting of descriptions of an art exhibit going on in Rome at the time. These descriptions deserve an examination.

 4791. As a rule, when one reads a writer's descriptions of art exhibits, one is searching for aesthetic insights into the art, but in this case, I would like to point out, that it was the state of mind of the writer that I found so interesting, and as for the art, it was apparently, not of much interest to the unknown writer.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4784 - 4787

 4784. From Crime and Punishment," In a strong and rather agreeable voice, cracked and coarsened by street singing, she sang in hope of getting a copper from the shop. 

 4785. Dostoevsky: Raskolnikov joined two or three listeners, took out a five copeck piece and put it in the girl’s hand. She broke off abruptly on a sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder “Come on,” and both moved on to the next shop.

 4786. I felt strangely elated that I had seen something, for a moment, through Fyodor Mikhailovich's eye. 

 4787. This is how the diary entry in the sketchbook ended. It provided me with one of the only clues to the identity of the writer, and the time and place of the events. There happens to be an Anglican Church one block from the Via Del Corso, and I assumed that must have been the location of the Corelli concert they attended.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4780 - 4783

 4780. Several people came up to me on the station platform to see if I was all right. I calmed down. I said, “My mother has recently died, that is why I am crying like this, but never mind".

 4781. People seemed to accept my explanation with sympathy, and a few minutes later we boarded another train. Later, in the hotel, I looked up the passage in "Crime and Punishment," that this incident had reminded me of. Here is what I found, on the first page of Part 2, chapter 6:

 4782. From "Crime And Punishment:" From old habit he took his usual walk in the direction of the Hay Market. A dark-haired young man with a barrel organ was standing in the road in front of a little general shop and was grinding out a very sentimental song.

4783. From "Crime And Punishment:" He was accompanying a girl of fifteen, who stood on the pavement in front of him. She was dressed up in a crinoline, a mantle and a straw hat with a flame-colored feather in it, all very old and shabby.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4776 - 4779

 4776. But that was all perhaps just a story telling daydream, and of no consequence, but the upshot of it was that, right there on the train I began to cry, and not muffled sobs, no, not by any means, but hysterics, and cries of anguish, right there in public, in front of a lot of strangers.

 4777. Imagine my embarrassment. I was convulsed with sobs. It was hysterics. Everyone in the car eyed us with mounting alarm, as if something very untoward and frightening was about to happen.

 4778. I took a firm grip on B's arm, and indicated that we had to get off at the next stop. And what was it all about. I don’t even care for that song, and she wasn’t even singing it very well. 

 4779. She was just singing those lines, “And I began to Pray,” as I rushed by her and put a bill in her cup. She broke off her singing at the very instant she saw the note, and went off to another car, without even bothering to finish the line of the song.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4772 - 3775

 4772. She sang that sad American song about the leaves being brown, and the sky being gray, with those words, “If I didn’t tell him, I could leave today.”

 4773. It seemed to me that it was not a song at all, and that I could see in her sad distracted eyes, that this girl was singing about her decision to leave her old father, and cease their begging. 

 4774. She knew that he was soon to simply die of grief, and that there was not a thing that she could do about it. In his face I thought I could see his certain knowledge of his coming abandonment and certain death,

4775. ,and his even more certain awareness that he could play the violin, but that she could not sing. And in that awkward balance was the charm and substance their existence.

The Beggar's Daughter, parts 4768 - 4771

 4768. The Corelli performance was a failure in every way. I sat on the edge of my seat, I rocked slightly back and forth, but the tears, they just wouldn’t come.

 4769. After that we rode home on the subway, and I sat next to B. in a rather depressed state of mind. We sat across from the doors, and at a stop two people got on the train and they captured my interest at once.

 4770. The two of them reminded me of some characters in “Crime and Punishment” which I just happened to be reading at the time. They were beggars, an old man, and what might have been his daughter, an intensely beautiful black eyed, thin girl of about fourteen, with a face of sad abstraction.

 4771. He had a violin, which he began to play, and a moment later she began to sing in a soft, slightly tremulous untrained voice. From the very first instant, when that bow began to scratch across a string I began to feel my heart ache, and when the child’s voice emerged, as if it had been hidden in the sound of the violin string, I suddenly felt as if I was going to pass out, so intensely did I feel the sound of her voice unexpectedly in the center of my heart.