It was sad when the great ship went down

One of the many good things about taking some time off, as I did last week, was in catching up with items that one needs time to appreciate. Such is the case with this extraordinary video that has been making the rounds, showing the sinking of the Titanic in real time.

Now, having had a longtime interest in the Titanic, this was something I couldn't resist. However, it called for watching at one sitting to really appreciate its full power, which is why I held on to it until last week, a few days following the 104th anniversary of the sinking. It truly is an amazing video, not just for the subtle signs over the two hours and forty minutes of the ship sinking deeper and deeper into the water, but for the eerie look of the ship absent any people (a decision by the software designers; this is, I think, an alpha version of the final product), particularly in the last minutes when all the lifeboats are gone, their empty davits - which were never intended to be used - standing in mute testimony to the ongoing horror. It is, and I don't mean to overuse the word, an extraordinary experience.

Throwback Thursday: Remembering when the band played on

THE TITANIC'S BAND PLAYS IN A SCENE FROM A NIGHT TO REMEMBER, 1958

Awhile back, Terry Teachout posted a meme that, as I recall, had something to do with books that had made an immediate and lasting impact on you after you'd read them. Now, I think it's an automatic reflex that the mind starts working every time you read about that kind of list, and it didn't take me long to realize that I might have a very difficult time coming up with ten or so titles that would fit the description. It's not that I haven't read a lot of books, nor is it the case that I'd classify most of those books as forgettable.

It's just that the bar is set pretty high on this. We're not necessarily talking about favorite or best-loved books. There are many books that pack a wallop when you've just turned the final page and closed the covers; it's the rare book that lasts beyond that, causing your mind to return to it again and again. For me, a writer as well as reader, it might involve characters so memorable that I start speculating on how I'd write the continuation of their story. It could be a line or two that sticks in the mind, a line that you find yourself pulling out and using frequently. Or it could be one scene that haunts you, burns itself into your memory like a photographic negative. Whatever the case, I think a list of such books, like a list of one's closest friends, is probably quite short.*

*My own list wound up being short enough; eight titles. Maybe someday we'll discuss them all, but of course that isn't what today's piece is really about.

The point of this is to set up the video clip we're about to look at. One of the books that made my list is Psalm at Journey's End, Erik Fosnes Hansen's remarkable novel about the members of the famed band on the ill-fated maiden voyage of the Titanic. As you know, I'm something of a Titanic buff, but fictional treatments of the Titanic have rarely risen to the level of the drama of the real story.  Psalm at Journey's End is the exception, and though the characters' names and their personal stories have been fictionalized (and, in fact, the Titanic itself is merely the vehicle, so to speak, through which their stories are told), Hansen's melancholy tale tells of the passion, the triumph and tragedy of the Titanic better than any recent movie could hope to.

The moment of truth comes on the novel's last page. Folklore has long supposed that "Nearer, My God, to Thee" was the piece which the band played as the ship went down. Walter Lord's definitive A Night to Remember rejected that tradition in favor of the Episcopal hymn "Autumn." Lord based his assessment on the eyewitness testimony of wireless operator Harold Bride, who was on the ship until the very end. However, in Lord's follow-up The Night Lives On, he addressed speculation that the piece to which Bride had been referring was actually "Songe d'Automne", a popular song of the time. Lord acknowledges the plausibility, indeed the probability, that this was in fact the final piece, but he concedes that we will probably never know for sure. Other historians have other opinions, the point being that such conjecture has long been part of the lore of the Titanic, and probably always will be.

Hansen, too, has his own theory, only his is far different, and adds to the poignancy of the ship's last moments. Recalling a memory from his childhood, bandleader Jason Coward asks the other musicians to join him in Handel's Largo.  The Largo is the popular name for the aria "Ombra mai fù" from Handel's opera Serse. Not only is it the most famous aria from this seldom-performed opera, it comes right at the beginning - a real rarety. Imagine Bobby Darin starting every concert by singing "Mack the Knife" (which he did, incidentelly). Or, since we're discussing Handel, suppose he started Messiah with the "Hallelujia Chorus." Nothing like leading with your strength.

"Ombra mai fù" is a wonderfully evocative piece (although if you look at the lyrics, you'll find that it's only a song about the shade provided by a tree), and coming as it does at the end of this very sad book, telling such a sad story, it makes a powerful impact. The following is not taken from Serse; even though it comes at the beginning, you still have to get through the opening credits and the overture. There are plenty of concert versions to choose from, sung by mezzos, baritones, countertenors. I'll give you this filmed performance by Jennifer Larmore - I know, there's no apparent reason for it to have been shot in a shipyard, but in our context it seems quite appropriate.

Ombra mai fu...

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Originally published July 8, 2009

Opera Wednesday

You're likely to be reading a lot about the Titanic this week if you haven't already, and you're likely to read more about it on this site before the week is over. But for today, a curious tie-in between the Titanic and Opera Wednesday.

The Titanic's orchestra has long since entered the realm of history for playing throughout the sinking, until the ship itself went under. Much of the discussion surrounds what the band actually played at the end, which is another story altogether. But music holds a strong power of identification in human memory, and it is enough for a few bars of a tune to be played to bring back instantly all the feelings, hopes and fears of a single moment of time. And so it was with the final piece that the orchestra played in their concert in the first class reception room that night. It was the last piece that anyone would hear until the Titanic's encounter with the iceberg, and for Noël Leslie, the Countess of Rothes, it created a memory she would never forget.

That night the orchestra played the Bacarolle from Offenbach's Tales of Hoffmann. It is a haunting piece of music, and when viewed in context of the opera it carries its own watery images, set as it is in Venice with its canals and boats. For the rest of her life, until her death in 1956, whenever she heard the Bacarolle the Countess would immediately feel the horror of that night, the bone-chilling cold of the North Atlantic, and the terror of seeing the great ship go down. It was that immediate, and that total. And here is the Bacarolle, one of the most popular pieces in opera, innocuous in its beauty, complete in the depth of feeling it could reproduce. ◙