Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

18 Aug 2018

Priest (21.6) An Introduction to Non-Classical Logic, ‘Existence and Quantification,’ summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary of Priest’s text, which is already written with maximum efficiency. Bracketed commentary and boldface are my own, unless otherwise noted. I do not have specialized training in this field, so please trust the original text over my summarization. I apologize for my typos and other unfortunate mistakes, because I have not finished proofreading, and I also have not finished learning all the basics of these logics.]

 

 

 

 

Summary of

 

Graham Priest

 

An Introduction to Non-Classical Logic: From If to Is

 

Part II:

Quantification and Identity

 

21

Many-valued Logics

 

21.6

Existence and Quantification

 

 

 

 

Brief summary:

(21.6.1) We can add inner and outer quantifiers to our quantified 3-valued logics. Outer quantifiers behave as normal, but inner quantifiers are  problematic when existential statements take the value i, and so inner quantifiers are primitive. (21.6.2) We now wonder if it makes sense for the existential predicate to have  non-classical values. (21.6.3) According to a certain view, we can think of existence statements of the form ℭa taking the value i under the sense of neither true nor false. (21.6.4) One argument for truth-valueless existence statements could be that non-denoting ones are valueless. “But the claim about non-denotation is not very plausible as far as the existence predicate goes. Supposing that the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’ does not denote anything, it would seem that ‘Sherlock Holmes exists’ is false, not truth-valueless” (464). (21.6.5) Another possibility is to say that existence statements can be neither true nor false when they state the existence of something bound up with a future contingency. So, we might say, “‘The first Pope of the 25th century will exist (but does not yet)’ or ‘Hilary will exist’ – where ‘Hilary’ rigidly designates the first Pope of the 25th century – is neither true nor false. But this seems wrong. If there is such a Pope, this is true” (464). (21.6.6) There is a stronger argument for truth-valueless existence statements, namely, ones that call for verificationism. So if “one can verify neither ‘a exists’ nor its negation, for some suitable a, then this statement is neither true nor false. Thus, for example, ‘The author of the Dao De Ching in fact existed’, or ‘Laozi in fact existed’ might be of this kind” (464). (21.6.7) Another way that we can have valueless existence statements would be borderline ranges of vague predicates, as for example during the gradual process of death where during a certain period some but not all vital bodily functions have ceased and thus when there is “a grey area where it is vague as to whether or not someone exists”. (21.6.8) We can also think of borderline existence cases as involving the value i with the sense of both true and false. For, “What intuition tells us, after all, is that the statement in question seems to be as true as it is false, as false as it is true; and, as far as that goes, the symmetric positions, both and neither, would seem to be as good as each other. Hence, borderline cases of existence might deliver existence statements that are both true and false” (464). (21.6.9) There are existence statements involving paradoxical self-reference that can be considered both true and false. Priest gives the example of Berry’s paradox. “Consider all those (whole) numbers that can be specified in English by a (context-independent) description with less than, say, 100 words. There is a finite number of these, so there are many numbers that cannot be so specified. There must therefore be a least. But there cannot be such a number, since if it did exist it would be specified by the description ‘the least (whole) number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words’. The least whole number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words both does and does not, therefore, exist” (465).

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

21.6.1

[Outer and Inner Domain Quantifiers in 3-Valued Logics]

 

21.6.2

[Wondering About the Sense of the Existential Predicate Taking Non-Classical Values]

 

21.6.3

[Existence Statements as Gaps]

 

21.6.4

[Existence Gaps and Non-Denotation]

 

21.6.5

[Existence Gaps and Future Contingents]

 

21.6.6

[Existence Gaps and Verificationism]

 

21.6.7

[Dying as Involving a Vague, Valueless Existential Predication]

 

21.6.8

[Borderline Existence Statements as Both True and False]

 

21.6.9

[Paradoxes of Self-Reference Involving Existence Statements, Like Berry’s Paradox, as Both True and False]

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

21.6.1

[Outer and Inner Domain Quantifiers in 3-Valued Logics]

 

[We can add inner and outer quantifiers to our quantified 3-valued logics. Outer quantifiers behave as normal, but inner quantifiers are  problematic when existential statements take the value i, and so inner quantifiers are primitive.]

 

[We will now recall some matters from section 13.5  regarding the useful distinction and addition of inner and outer quantifiers:

(13.5.1) We might want a free logic where quantifiers range over all objects and not just existent ones. (13.5.2) Quantifiers ranging over the outer domain D are called the outer quantifiers, and they are written as ∃ and ∀. The quantifiers that range over the inner domain E are called inner quantifiers, and they are written as ∃E and ∀E. (13.5.3) We read ∀xA as ‘Every x is such that A’; ∀ExA as ‘Every existent x is such that A’; ∃xA as ‘Some x is such that A’ or as ‘Something is A’; and ∃ExA as ‘there exists an x such that A’ or as ‘there is an x such that A’. (13.5.4) We should not think that the existential quantifier of natural language necessarily implies existence. (13.5.5) There is an argument for reading the existential quantifier as “there exists”. The argument wants to avoid problems like the ontological argument, so it does not allow existence to be a predicate. Instead, it sees as the only other viable option for expressing existence as being the existential quantifier. Part of the thinking is that only things that are there can be predicated. But this is not a convincing argument, because there are many examples of predication of non-existing objects, like Zeus being worshipped. (13.5.6) If we wish, we can define inner quantifiers in terms of outer ones, which means that “in a free logic with outer quantifiers, we can dispense with inner quantifiers altogether,” namely, in the following way:

ExA     x(ℭxA)

ExA     x(ℭxA

(p297). However, “There is no way of defining outer quantifiers in terms of inner quantifiers” (297). (13.5.7) These new semantics make one problematic inference no longer problematic, namely, Ax(a) ⊨ ∃xA, now meaning that if something can be predicated, it is either an existent or non-existent object (previously it implied that any predicable thing must be existent). But it may not make the logical truth ∃x(A ∨ ¬A) unproblematic (it implies now that there must be at least a non-existent object, while before it implied there must be at least an existent object.)

(From the brief summary of section 13.5)

Priest notes now that for our 3-valued logics, we can have outer-quantifiers ranging over the whole of the domain D. But, for certain technical reasons (see below, as I have not yet tried to grasp and summarize them yet), we cannot define the inner quantifiers by means of outer-ones in 3-valued logics where existence predicates take non-classical values (like i), and so “inner quantifiers will have to be taken as primitive.” (I am not sure yet how that works, but it seems in the next section we should figure that out as an exercise.) ]

As with the two-valued case, in the free 3-valued logics we have been talking about, one can have outer quantifiers, ranging over the whole of D. The definability of the inner (existentially loaded) quantifiers in terms of the outer quantifiers and the existence predicate is, however, more problematic. If, as in 13.5.3, we write the outer quantifiers as ∀ and ∃, and use a superscript E to indicate the existentially loaded quantifiers, what we require is:

1. v(∃ExA) = v(∃x(ℭx A))

2. v(∀ExA) = v(∀x(ℭx A))

We know that v(ℭkd) ∈ D iff d E. Ifis a classical predicate, in the sense that for all d D, v(ℭkd) = 1 or v(ℭkd) = 0, these equations hold. The details are straightforward, and left as an exercise. (Check that if the lefthand side is 1, so is the righthand side. Then check the opposite direction. Do the same thing for 0. The case for i then follows.) If, however, existential statements may take the value i, things may go wrong. Consider an interpretation with | two members, d and e, as follows:

 

       D

+---------------+
|               |
|     E         |
|  +-----+      |
|  |     |      |
|  |  e  |   d  |
|  |     |      |
|  +-----+      |
+---------------+

If v is as follows:

 

 

v()

v(P)

d

i

1

e

1

0

 

this is a K3 and Ł3 interpretation. It is not difficult to check that v(∃ExPx) = 0, but v(ℭkdPkd) = i = v(∃x(ℭxPx)).

 

If v is as follows:

 

 

v()

v(P)

d

0

0

e

i

1

 

this is an LP and RM3 interpretation. It is not difficult to check that v(∃ExPx) = 1, but v(ℭkePke) = i = v(∃x(ℭxPx)). Hence, if the existence predicate is allowed to take non-classical values, inner quantifiers will have to be taken as primitive.

(463)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.2

[Wondering About the Sense of the Existential Predicate Taking Non-Classical Values]

 

[We now wonder if it makes sense for the existential predicate to have  non-classical values.]

 

[(ditto)]

Arranging for this is a simple matter, and left as an exercise. However, it does raise the question of whether it makes sense for the existence predicate to have a non-classical value, the answer to which is not so obvious.

(463)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.3

[Existence Statements as Gaps]

 

[According to a certain view, we can think of existence statements of the form ℭa taking the value i under the sense of neither true nor false.]

 

[(ditto)]

Suppose that we are in a logic where i is interpreted as neither true nor false. Could a sentence of the form ℭa take this value? The answer depends on what sorts of thing one takes to be neither true nor false; but on certain views about this, the answer could be ‘yes’.

(463)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.4

[Existence Gaps and Non-Denotation]

 

[One argument for truth-valueless existence statements could be that non-denoting ones are valueless. “But the claim about non-denotation is not very plausible as far as the existence predicate goes. Supposing that the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’ does not denote anything, it would seem that ‘Sherlock Holmes exists’ is false, not truth-valueless” (464).]

 

[(ditto)]

Some have argued that a sentence containing a non-denoting name has no truth value (see 7.8). If this is the case, and a does not denote anything, | ℭa has no truth value. But the claim about non-denotation is not very plausible as far as the existence predicate goes. Supposing that the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’ does not denote anything, it would seem that ‘Sherlock Holmes exists’ is false, not truth-valueless.

(463-464)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.5

[Existence Gaps and Future Contingents]

 

[Another possibility is to say that existence statements can be neither true nor false when they state the existence of something bound up with a future contingency. So, we might say, “‘The first Pope of the 25th century will exist (but does not yet)’ or ‘Hilary will exist’ – where ‘Hilary’ rigidly designates the first Pope of the 25th century – is neither true nor false. But this seems wrong. If there is such a Pope, this is true” (464).]

 

[(ditto)]

Aristotle argued that statements about a future state of affairs that is not, as yet, determined are neither true nor false (see 7.9). If this is correct then, arguably, ‘The first Pope of the 25th century will exist (but does not yet)’ or ‘Hilary will exist’ – where ‘Hilary’ rigidly designates the first Pope of the 25th century – is neither true nor false. But this seems wrong. If there is such a Pope, this is true.

(464)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.6

[Existence Gaps and Verificationism]

 

[There is a stronger argument for truth-valueless existence statements, namely, ones that call for verificationism. So if “one can verify neither ‘a exists’ nor its negation, for some suitable a, then this statement is neither true nor false. Thus, for example, ‘The author of the Dao De Ching in fact existed’, or ‘Laozi in fact existed’ might be of this kind” (464).]

 

[(ditto)]

Better arguments can be found if one subscribes to verificationism of some kind. This might be a philosophy of mathematics which identifies mathematical truth with provability; or it might be a philosophy of science which identifies truth with empirical verifiability. If one subscribes to such a view, and one can verify neither ‘a exists’ nor its negation, for some suitable a, then this statement is neither true nor false. Thus, for example, ‘The author of the Dao De Ching in fact existed’, or ‘Laozi in fact existed’ might be of this kind.

(464)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.7

[Dying as Involving a Vague, Valueless Existential Predication]

 

[Another way that we can have valueless existence statements would be borderline ranges of vague predicates, as for example during the gradual process of death where during a certain period some but not all vital bodily functions have ceased and thus when there is “a grey area where it is vague as to whether or not someone exists”.]

 

[(ditto)]

As another example: some have argued that statements about the borderline range of some vague predicate are neither true nor false (see 11.3.6, 11.3.7). Thus, ‘Dana is an adult’, said of Dana around puberty, might be thought to be neither true nor false. But can existence be a vague predicate? Certainly: when people die they go out of existence (let us suppose). But dying can be a gradual process. Bodily functions do not normally all cease at once; there can therefore be a grey area where it is vague as to whether or not someone exists.

(464)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.8

[Borderline Existence Statements as Both True and False]

 

[We can also think of borderline existence cases as involving the value i with the sense of both true and false. For, “What intuition tells us, after all, is that the statement in question seems to be as true as it is false, as false as it is true; and, as far as that goes, the symmetric positions, both and neither, would seem to be as good as each other. Hence, borderline cases of existence might deliver existence statements that are both true and false” (464).]

 

[(ditto) (Note: the argument of gaps for dying from section 21.6.7 above seems odd to me, and the gluts version here seems much more reasonable. If it is neither true nor false that one is alive (exists), and it is neither true nor false that one is not alive, than what can we say about the person’s state of being? Can we say that it is true it is some third state? To me it seems more reasonable to say it is both true and false that one exists when in the transitional process of dying, as there is not really another predicate I can think of that applies here that would be just true (and surely some predicate or other regarding its state of being should hold, because we cannot simply say they are dead, but the dying person is still there in some state of being that is also not life, under these gap assumptions). The gap thinking seems to be the following. Can we say the dying person is dead (does not exist)? No, because they are not dead enough to be such. Can we say they are alive? No, because they are not alive enough to be such. In other words, there is a window during which neither the predicate “exists” nor its negation holds. But, as I pointed out, there is still a person there in some state of being, and presumably that state can be given a name and serve as a predication to the dying person. Now, under this gap reasoning, that predicate cannot be “exists”. But I have two problems with that. If it is not “exists,” then you are saying it is false that they exist. That to me seems like you are saying that “they exist” is false and not valueless (otherwise you might be saying they exist only partly, but then you are using a fuzzy value or maybe even a glut, which is not what we are assuming here for gaps). My other problem is that if you insist that “they exist” is neither true nor false, but that moments later after they fully die, “they exist” is false, then, as I noted, something true can be predicated of their existential state which is between existence and non-existence. So my final point here is that to be in a state between existence and non-existence would not be like jumping into a third state that is completely different from existence and non-existence but would rather seem to have certain properties of existence and certain properties of non-existence. For, it is a continuous variation from the one state to the other. So for example, you may have consciousness but not cell life-sustenance on account of stopped blood flow, or maybe you do not have consciousness but you have blood flow. I am not sure what really is involved in death processes. At any rate, it seems to me that existence in the dying transition phase would seem to be a glut, in that it is both true that you exist (in that you have enough functions at this very moment to say that you have not completely passed out of existence and thus that you still are existing, even if barely so) but it is also true to say that you do not exist (as you have a lack of certain functions that will sustain your existence for much longer and thus you are practically dead. To put it phenomenologically, when you are passing away, you will be consciousness of your own fading consciousness, and thus in one instant you will experience both your state of existence and non-existence simultaneously).)]

What of a logic where i is interpreted as both true and false. Could a sentence of the form ℭa be both true and false? Some have suggested that the statements about the borderline range of some vague predicate are both true and false. What intuition tells us, after all, is that the statement in question seems to be as true as it is false, as false as it is true; and, as far as that goes, the symmetric positions, both and neither, would seem to be as good as each other. Hence, borderline cases of existence might deliver existence statements that are both true and false.

(464)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21.6.9

[Paradoxes of Self-Reference Involving Existence Statements, Like Berry’s Paradox, as Both True and False]

 

[There are existence statements involving paradoxical self-reference that can be considered both true and false. Priest gives the example of Berry’s paradox. “Consider all those (whole) numbers that can be specified in English by a (context-independent) description with less than, say, 100 words. There is a finite number of these, so there are many numbers that cannot be so specified. There must therefore be a least. But there cannot be such a number, since if it did exist it would be specified by the description ‘the least (whole) number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words’. The least whole number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words both does and does not, therefore, exist” (465).]

 

[(ditto)]

One final example. Some have argued that paradoxical sentences generated by the paradoxes of self-reference are both true and false (see 7.7). Some of these can be existence statements, as in Berry’s paradox, which is as follows. Consider all those (whole) numbers that can be specified in English by a (context-independent) description with less than, say, 100 words. There is a finite number of these, so there are many numbers that cannot be so specified. There must therefore be a least. But there cannot be such a number, since if it did exist it would be specified by the description ‘the least (whole) number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words’. The least whole number that cannot be specified in English by a description with less than 100 words both does and does not, therefore, exist. So paradoxes of self-reference may deliver existence statements that are both true and false.

(465)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From:

 

Priest, Graham. 2008 [2001]. An Introduction to Non-Classical Logic: From If to Is, 2nd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University.

 

 

 

 

19 Jul 2018

Williams (5.2) Gilles Deleuze’s Philosophy of Time, ‘Eternal return and death,’ summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary of Williams, with boldface and bracketed commentary being my own additions. Note, I drafted this six years ago so it may seem discontinuous with current entries. For example, I do not in brackets here try to clear up what is said or note what I failed to understand.]

 

 

 

Summary of

 

James Williams

 

Gilles Deleuze’s Philosophy of Time:

A Critical Introduction and Guide

 

Chapter 5

Time and eternal return

 

5.2

Eternal return and death

 

 

 

Brief Summary:

The eternal return is not a recycling of identical things, because “then there would be no sense of return in them due to the lack of any way of telling there had been a return.” (119b) The eternal return also opens the third synthesis of time, which is thus somehow both circular while also having a before and after and an asymmetrical series. This is conceivable if we view it as the cycling of pure difference, which combines the features of return with non-identity. As conscious beings, we are to live time’s passage in such a way that we participate in the eternal return of difference, and if we fail in that, we die. Deleuze critiques the Freudian notion of the inorganic death drive, because the eternal return is not cycles of life and death. Rather, it is “the passing away of that which is inanimate in sameness and identity and the eternal return of multiple forms of difference.” (123bc) Humans in fact do not dread the inanimate state of death but instead that which makes all beings who are fixed in their identity pass away in time. We should distinguish this sort of death resulting from remaining self-same while time moves past us with the vital death involved in evolving, growth, and change where we affirm continuous differentiation and thereby participate in the eternal return of pure difference. Thus the third synthesis of time is tied both to death and eternal return.

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

 

The eternal return in its purest form also involves death, violence and “the most difficult tests put to living beings” (118c), and

 

Williams then gives an excellent formulation for why the eternal return is not of something similar or identical. “No two cycles of return could be internally identical, for then there would be no sense of return in them due to the lack of any way of telling there had been a return.” (119b) If we hold this view, we might suffer from two sorts of anguish, the anguish we feel as dear things pass-away, and the anguish about the return of things we do not want to see again. (119c.d) Anguish is what humans feel, but the eternal return is a process applying more broadly than just human experience. (120c) Deleuze writes that we must conceive eternal return as the selecting thought. (120d) But this does not mean it depends on our thinking to operate. (121a) It is the highest test to conceive eternal return as purely differential [perhaps because preexisting concepts will be inadequate?]. (121c)

 

Williams wonders, how can the third synthesis be both circular but also have a before and after and an asymmetrical series? “The answer is that the third synthesis is both an irreversible series and a cyclical return.” (122a) The third synthesis orders things that remain the same, but for pure difference it is the cycling of pure difference. As conscious beings, how are we to live time’s passage so that we participate in the eternal return of difference? (122b) Deleuze says that if we do not pass this test, we die, as would any being that did not pass the test. (122c)

 

Williams writes that there are different kinds of processes at work, those working towards an identity and those working in becoming and change, novelty, and transformation. (123a) So a process resisting change is doomed to fall out of existence.

 

Deleuze critiques Freud’s work on death and also he critiques “any definition of death as a return of the living beings to undifferentiated and inanimate matter.” (123b) For Deleuze, the eternal return is not cycles of life and death, but rather it is “the passing away of that which is inanimate in sameness and identity and the eternal return of multiple forms of difference.” (123bc) So death is not the inanimate state humans dread. It is rather what makes any and every being that remains fixed in its identity pass away in time. (123cd)

 

But death is not just about the passing of identities but also the survival of difference. Thus evolution and change are forms of death, because they involve the passing of certain beings but also “the moving towards new processes through difference in itself.” (124a) Thus there are two deaths, our personal one concerning the I and self, and the impersonal one that causes things to persist. (124b) “death as subject and death as difference affirming process”. (124b) Because the future is “the deployment and explication of the multiple” (Deleuze qtd 124bc) and because the eternal return promotes the death of all fixed things, we can see how the third synthesis is tied both to death and eternal return. (124bc)

 

 

 

 

Williams, James. Gilles Deleuze’s Philosophy of Time: A Critical Introduction and Guide. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011.

 

.

15 Mar 2017

Proust (§16/17) Swann’s Way. [M. Swann’s father and Grandfather were friends. Father Swann’s habit of remembering his deceased wife often but only a little each time inspired Grandfather’s beautiful saying, “Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann.”]

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary, with my own bracketed comments. Proofreading is incomplete, so I apologize in advance for my distracting typos.]

 

 

“Souvent, mais peu à la fois, comme le pauvre père Swann”

“Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann”

 

Marcel Proust

 

Du côté de chez swann. À la recherche du temps perdu. Tome I

Swan's Way. Vol. 1 of Remembrance of Things Past

 

Première partie

Overature

 

Combray I.

 

§16 / §17

[M. Swann’s father and Grandfather were friends. Father Swann’s habit of remembering his deceased wife often but only a little each time inspired Grandfather’s beautiful saying, “Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann.”]

 

 

Brief summary:

When M. Swann arrived for dinner, it was so dark in the garden that he was recognized at first by his voice rather than by his visual appearance. M. Swann is fond of Grandfather, who was also a close friend of M. Swann’s now-deceased father. Grandfather tells the story of when Father Swann was grieving over his dead wife. He said, “It’s a funny thing, now; I very often think of my poor wife, but I cannot think of her very much at any one time.” Grandfather turned this into a beautiful saying: “Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann.”

 

 

 

Summary

 

In the dark of the garden, it was hard to know if it was M. Swann who arrived. Instead, he could be identified by his voice. M. Swann was fond of the narrator’s grandfather, although there was a substantial difference in their age. In fact, M. Swann’s father and the narrator’s grandfather were once close friends. A few times a year, Grandfather would tell the story of M. Swann’s father at the time of his wife’s death. Father Swann stayed by his wife’s bedside, but after she died, Grandfather convinced him to leave the room while they laid her in her coffin. They went for a walk on the Swann property, and Father Swann [although grieving] took Grandfather’s arm and exclaimed how wonderful it was for them to be alive and together to enjoy their nice surroundings and the moment. Then after realizing the gravity of the situation, Father Swann resorted to a habitual gesture he often employed when suddenly perplexed, namely, to wipe his brow, eyes, and then glasses. Father Swann lived for just another two years and never fully got over the death of his wife. He would comment that, “It’s a funny thing, now; I very often think of my poor wife, but I cannot think of her very much at any one time.” Grandfather converted this into a saying that he often employed, “Souvent, mais peu à la fois, comme le pauvre père Swann” / “Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann”. The narrator would have assumed Father Swann to be a monster had not Grandfather said he had a heart of gold. [I am not sure why he would be a monster. Maybe the idea is that he did not think enough about his dead wife, because he only did it a little at a time, and in that sense he did not behave in a sufficiently human way. Or maybe the idea is that he caused himself prolonged grief by always thinking about her, and in that sense was a monster to himself.]

 

 

 

 

From the English translation [boldface mine]:

§17

And there we would all stay, hanging on the words which would fall from my grandmother’s lips when she brought us back her report of the enemy, as though there had been some uncertainty among a vast number of possible invaders, and then, soon after, my grandfather would say: “I can hear Swann’s voice.” And, indeed, one could tell him only by his voice, for it was difficult to make out his face with its arched nose and green eyes, under a high forehead fringed with fair, almost red hair, dressed in the Bressant style, because in the garden we used as little light as possible, so as not to attract mosquitoes: and I would slip away as though not going for anything in particular, to tell them to bring out the syrups; for my grandmother made a great point, thinking it ‘nicer’ of their not being allowed to seem anything out of the ordinary, which we kept for visitors only. Although a far younger man, M. Swann was very much attached to my grandfather, who had been an intimate friend, in his time, of Swann’s father, an excellent but an eccentric man in whom the least little thing would, it seemed, often check the flow of his spirits and divert the current of his thoughts. Several times in the course of a year I would hear my grandfather tell at table the story, which never varied, of the behaviour of M. Swann the elder upon the death of his wife, by whose bedside he had watched day and night. My grandfather, who had not seen him for a long time, hastened to join him at the Swanns’ family property on the outskirts of Combray, and managed to entice him for a moment, weeping profusely, out of the death-chamber, so that he should not be present when the body was laid in its coffin. They took a turn or two in the park, where there was a little sunshine. Suddenly M. Swann seized my grandfather by the arm and cried, “Oh, my dear old friend, how fortunate we are to be walking here together on such a charming day! Don’t you see how pretty they are, all these trees — my hawthorns, and my new pond, on which you have never congratulated me? You look as glum as a night-cap. Don’t you feel this little breeze? Ah! whatever you may say, it’s good to be alive all the same, my dear Amédée!” And then, abruptly, the memory of his dead wife returned to him, and probably thinking it too complicated to inquire into how, at such a time, he could have allowed himself to be carried away by an impulse of happiness, he confined himself to a gesture which he habitually employed whenever any perplexing question came into his mind: that is, he passed his hand across his forehead, dried his eyes, and wiped his glasses. And he could never be consoled for the loss of his wife, but used to say to my grandfather, during the two years for which he survived her, “It’s a funny thing, now; I very often think of my poor wife, but I cannot think of her very much at any one time.” “Often, but a little at a time, like poor old Swann,” became one of my grandfather’s favourite phrases, which he would apply to all kinds of things. And I should have assumed that this father of Swann’s had been a monster if my grandfather, whom I regarded as a better judge than myself, and whose word was my law and often led me in the long run to pardon offences which I should have been inclined to condemn, had not gone on to exclaim, “But, after all, he had a heart of gold.”

 

From the French [boldface mine]:

§16

Nous restions tous suspendus aux nouvelles que ma grand’mère allait nous apporter de l’ennemi, comme si on eût pu hésiter entre un grand nombre possible d’assaillants, et bientôt après mon grand-père disait: «Je reconnais la voix de Swann.» On ne le reconnaissait en effet qu’à la voix, on distinguait mal son visage au nez busqué, aux yeux verts, sous un haut front entouré de cheveux blonds presque roux, coiffés à la Bressant, parce que nous gardions le moins de lumière possible au jardin pour ne pas attirer les moustiques et j’allais, sans en avoir l’air, dire qu’on apportât les sirops; ma grand’mère attachait beaucoup d’importance, trouvant cela plus aimable, à ce qu’ils n’eussent pas l’air de figurer d’une façon exceptionnelle, et pour les visites seulement. M. Swann, quoique beaucoup plus jeune que lui, était très lié avec mon grand-père qui avait été un des meilleurs amis de son père, homme excellent mais singulier, chez qui, paraît-il, un rien suffisait parfois pour interrompre les élans du cœur, changer le cours de la pensée. J’entendais plusieurs fois par an mon grand-père raconter à table des anecdotes toujours les mêmes sur l’attitude qu’avait eue M. Swann le père, à la mort de sa femme qu’il avait veillée jour et nuit. Mon grand-père qui ne l’avait pas vu depuis longtemps était accouru auprès de lui dans la propriété que les Swann possédaient aux environs de Combray, et avait réussi, pour qu’il n’assistât pas à la mise en bière, à lui faire quitter un moment, tout en pleurs, la chambre mortuaire. Ils firent quelques pas dans le parc où il y avait un peu de soleil. Tout d’un coup, M. Swann prenant mon grand-père par le bras, s’était écrié: «Ah! mon vieil ami, quel bonheur de se promener ensemble par ce beau temps. Vous ne trouvez pas ça joli tous ces arbres, ces aubépines et mon étang dont vous ne m’avez jamais félicité? Vous avez l’air comme un bonnet de nuit. Sentez-vous ce petit vent? Ah! on a beau dire, la vie a du bon tout de même, mon cher Amédée!» Brusquement le souvenir de sa femme morte lui revint, et trouvant sans doute trop compliqué de chercher comment il avait pu à un pareil moment se laisser aller à un mouvement de joie, il se contenta, par un geste qui lui était familier chaque fois qu’une question ardue se présentait à son esprit, de passer la main sur son front, d’essuyer ses yeux et les verres de son lorgnon. Il ne put pourtant pas se consoler de la mort de sa femme, mais pendant les deux années qu’il lui survécut, il disait à mon grand-père: «C’est drôle, je pense très souvent à ma pauvre femme, mais je ne peux y penser beaucoup à la fois.» «Souvent, mais peu à la fois, comme le pauvre père Swann», était devenu une des phrases favorites de mon grand-père qui la prononçait à propos des choses les plus différentes. Il m’aurait paru que ce père de Swann était un monstre, si mon grand-père que je considérais comme meilleur juge et dont la sentence faisant jurisprudence pour moi, m’a souvent servi dans la suite à absoudre des fautes que j’aurais été enclin à condamner, ne s’était récrié: «Mais comment? c’était un cœur d’or!»

 

 

 

Proust, Marcel. Du côté de chez swann. À la recherche du temps perdu. Tome I.
Available online at:
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/p/proust/marcel/p96d/index.html

 

Proust, Marcel. Swan’s Way. Vol. 1 of Remembrance of Things Past. Transl. C.K. Scott Moncrieff.
Available online at:
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/p/proust/marcel/p96s/index.html

 

 

.

8 Aug 2015

Somers-Hall, (2.12), Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition, ‘2.12 Freud’s Third Synthesis: The Death Drive (110–14/135–40)’, summary


by
Corry Shores
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[The following is summary. All boldface, underlining, and bracketed commentary are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my typos and other distracting mistakes. Somers-Hall is abbreviated SH and Difference and Repetition as DR.]



Summary of


Henry Somers-Hall


Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition:
An Edinburgh Philosophical Guide


Part 1
A Guide to the Text

 

Chapter 2. Repetition for Itself

2.12 Freud’s Third Synthesis: The Death Drive (110–14/135–40)






Brief summary:
Freud’s death drive tends toward a supposed prior pre-evolutionary state when the organism was inanimate matter. So it is a material repetition. Deleuze disagrees. The compulsion to repeat is a variation on the death drive, since they both tend toward a past status. This harkening back to the past is achieved by creating and repeatedly re-experiencing a virtual object, which substitutes for an external object that was once experienced but is now lacking. However, as there never was an actual experience where the virtual object fully supplied the person’s needs, it is not harkening back to an actual event but rather to the pure past in general. So for Deleuze, the death drive results in a spiritual rather than a material repetition. There is another difference between these two thinkers’ views on the death drive. Death for Freud is a personal loss. For Deleuze, this death is the instability and temporariness of identity in pure self-variational “intensive” becoming. Here, the organism is in a constant state of vital dying, since by means of its self-variation it is adapting, evolving, and self-perpetuating under new guises.

 



Summary


[The third synthesis will provide the foundation for repetition. This foundation cannot be based on the mere fact that the same thing has come forth again, since this presupposes that repetition is possible rather than explaining how it is possible. In Freud, that repetition is based on the fact there is a death instinct which drives the organism back to a more original state of inanimate matter. So the foundation for the repetition is not that the prior inanimate state repeats, but rather there there is always in the organism a drive back toward it, even though it is not immediately attained. The problem Deleuze has with this notion of the death drive as the basis for repetition is that what is being repeated is not the pure past in general but rather is a supposed actual evolutionary past. In that sense, it is a material repetition. Now recall that the death drive’s aim is to regress the evolutionary state of the organism, and that the compulsion to repeat and the pleasure principle are variations of this drive, and they want to prevent evolution and are thus striving backward evolutionarily toward a prior state of homeostasis. Also recall that one way the organism maintains this homeostasis is by creating virtual objects that act as substitutes when actual objects are needed but lacking. Deleuze says that since there never was a past event when the substitute actually satisfied the need the way the actual object did, that it is not harkening back to an actual past event but rather merely harkens back to the pure past in general. In that sense, perhaps, it is a spiritual rather than a material repetition. So the problem Deleuze has with Freud’s account of the death drive is that it confuses this pure past of the virtual object with some supposed actual past, when in fact the death drive aims for the pure virtual past in general. Let me quote this paragraph, as I may have interpreted it incorrectly:]

The question which opens up the third synthesis is as follows: ‘Do the disguises found in the work of dreams or symptoms – condensation, displacement, dramatisation – rediscover while attenuating a bare, brute repetition (repetition of the Same)?’ (DR 16/18–19). That is, given that we need to find a foundation for repetition, is this foundation going to be a kind of repetition which is different in kind from empirical repetition? A foundation for repetition that simply rests on another bare repetition will be inadequate, since rather than explaining repetition, it will presuppose it. Deleuze’s claim is going to be that underlying repetition for Freud is a material repetition, rather than a spiritual repetition [the following up to citation is Deleuze quotation]:

Even beyond the pleasure principle, the form of a bare repetition persists, since Freud interprets the death instinct as a tendency to return to the state of inanimate matter, one which upholds the model of a wholly physical or material repetition. (DR 17/19)

Now, what is interesting about this claim is that Deleuze is not here rejecting the death instinct, but rather claiming that the error is with Freud’s interpretation of it. Deleuze makes the claim that the virtual and actual objects ‘inevitably become confused, the pure past thereby assuming the status of a former present, albeit mythical, and reconstituting the illusion it was supposed to denounce, resuscitating the illusion of an original and a derived, of an identity in the origin, and a resemblance in the derived’ (DR 109/135). This illusion, therefore, is that the origin of the compulsion to repeat is in an actual, albeit potentially mythical event. Once we succumb to this illusion, it is a short step to positing a Freudian death drive. For Deleuze, the retention of the death drive will be premised on a reinterpretation of what death amounts to. For Freud, death is understood in terms of a material repetition. Deleuze is instead | going to understand death in terms of the other category of repetition, spiritual repetition.
(94-95)


[The next paragraph is also a bit complicated. Perhaps it can be simplified in the following way. The death drive tries to move the organic system back to a simpler inorganic state. Because it is acting upon the system, it is an active synthesis. But this death that is sought is one that is experienceable by a self. Deleuze notes that there is another sort of death that is impersonal. Let me quote again to be sure we have this right:]

In fact, Deleuze here introduces the same distinction that has been running through Chapter 2 between active synthesis and passive synthesis. Now, the parallel isn’t perfect here, but death within the Freudian model is a principle that operates in relation to a synthesis of undifferentiated elements. It comes into play at the point at which these elements become organised as something separate from them and active in its own right (it is a principle over and above that which it is a principle of). The death drive in Freud’s terms thus operates according to an active synthesis. As with Deleuze’s discussions throughout this chapter, we will find that as well as the active synthesis, there is a passive synthesis that underlies it. Thus, Deleuze writes as follows[the following up to citation is Deleuze quotation]:

Blanchot rightly suggests that death has two aspects. One is personal, concerning the I or the ego, something which I can encounter in a struggle or meet at a limit, or in any case, encounter in a present which causes everything to pass. The other is strangely impersonal, with no relation to ‘me’, neither present nor past but always coming, the source of an incessant multiple adventure in a persistent question. (DR 112/138)

Freud’s model is clearly closer to the first of these forms of death, although it is somewhat broader than Freud’s own case. This first model of death is not simply ‘the model of an indifferent inanimate matter to which the living would return’ (DR 112/137), and there is an open question of whether Deleuze is here making a deeper point about ‘this death [that] always comes from without, even at the moment when it constitutes the most personal possibility, from the past, even at the moment when it is most present’ (DR 113/138).
(SH 95)


[The next paragraph is also a bit tricky. It seems this other kind of death is to be understood as a sort of pure becoming where identities never hold and thus where selves are in a perpetual state of dying, since they are always under intensive self-variation. Because this is how organisms evolve and adapt, it is vital, and thus this sort of death is inherent to life in its activity of thriving. Again I should quote to be sure we have it right:]

So what is the true nature of death? Well, we saw that the third synthesis of time in the case of Zarathustra was represented by Zarathustra’s death. Deleuze’s discussion of Freud also sees death as ‘a pure form – the empty form of time’ (DR 112/137). Death therefore refers us to the field of intensities of Chapter 1, it is ‘the state of free differences when they are no longer subject to the form imposed upon them by an I or an ego’ (DR 113/138). So, the real notion of death is in fact the collapse of a given structure in the face of some kind of pure becoming. In this sense, death is a perpetual drive that destabilises identities, and makes transition possible: ‘The experience of death is the most common of occurrences in the unconscious, precisely because it occurs in life and | for life, in every passage or becoming, in every intensity as passage or becoming’ (AO 330/363). Life is therefore pervaded with death, to the extent that it is run through with experiences which destabilise the structure of the organism, and the identity of the ego. For Deleuze, therefore, there is something equivalent to the death drive, but this does not operate according to an entropic principle as we find in Freud’s model. Structures are not destabilised through a drive to return to a state where there is no energy in the system, but rather through the emergence of intensities into the field of representation. The death drive does not operate according to a principle, but simply is the manifestation of intensive difference into the realm of the unconscious (‘this energy does not serve Thanatos, it constitutes him’ [DR 113/139]). This leads to a reversal of our understanding of death. Since intensive death is a part of life (the destabilising of identities), our ‘death’ in this sense is coextensive with life: ‘it finally ceases to die since it ends up dying, in the reality of a last instant that fixes it in this way as an I, all the while undoing the intensity, carrying it back to the zero that envelops it’ (AO 330–1/363).
(SH 95-96)


Thus Deleuze’s understanding of death is [vitalist and] not “entropic” like Freud’s (96). [I do not quite grasp SH’s final point, so I need to quote it.]

So the final question is, why do we repeat that which we cannot represent? Earlier, Deleuze has stated that ‘the present is the repeater, the past is repetition itself, and the future is that which is repeated’ (DR 94/117). It is therefore the field of intensive difference which expresses itself in the present. Now, as this is different in kind from representation, it cannot occur within the field of representation as it is in itself. In this sense, the intensities which constitute us express themselves throughout our lives in a variety of contexts ‘in disguise’. When we are dealing with intensive difference, therefore, ‘the path it traces is invisible and becomes visible only in reverse, to the extent that it is travelled over and covered by the phenomena it induces in the system’ (DR 119–20/146).
(SH 96)






Citations from:

Somers-Hall, Henry. Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition. An Edinburgh Philosophical Guide. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University, 2013.



Or if otherwise noted:


DR:
Deleuze, Gilles. Difference and Repetition, trans. Paul Patton, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994/London: Continuum, 2004.


AO:
Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia I, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem and Helen R. Lane, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1977/London: Continuum, 2004.



 

 




 

18 Nov 2009

Echoes of Reflection. "The Transformation of Echo" & "The Story of Narcissus." Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book the Third


by
Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

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[May I thank the sources for the images in this entry. It makes a big difference, and I am grateful for that. The sources are listed near the images and at the end.]


Echoes of Reflection

Ovid

Metamorphoses

Book the Third


In Difference & Repetition, Deleuze writes about the pleasure we take in contemplation. He illustrates with the story of Narcissus and Echo. The following summarizes the tale.


The Transformation of Echo


The nymph Liriope had a very beautiful son, Narcissus. She wanted to know his fate. So she asked Tiresias, the seer. He told her that Narcissus will live a long life, unless somehow he comes to "know himself." For, then he will die.

Narcissus turns sixteen. No longer a boy, he enters the age of romance. Being beautiful, many girls fell hopelessly in love with him. But out of vanity, he turns them down.

Many a friend the blooming youth caress'd,
Many a love-sick maid her flame confess'd:
Such was his pride, in vain the friend caress'd,
The love-sick maid in vain her flame confess'd.

Benjamin West Narcissus and Echo (1805)



Zeus liked to have partners beside his wife. When he would seek romance with the nymphs, the nymph Echo would distract Hera with "subtle stories." Eventually, Hera discovered. She cursed Echo. Now the nymph cannot speak on her own. She can only repeat whatever she hears someone else say.


John William Waterhouse Echo



Alexandre Cabanel Echo



One day, the "lovesick virgin nymph" Echo spied beautiful Narcissus in the woods. She neared him, wanting to confess her love. But she was only able to wait for him to speak first, so then she might echo back his words.

Sadly, Narcissus rejects her. Embarrassed and heartbroken, she fled into the forest dark. She pines away the rest of her life in caves and other concealed parts of the woods. Soon all that is left of her are her bones and her voice, which we can hear when into hollow caverns we call out to her.


Guy Head Echo


The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move,
Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love,
Liv'd in the shady covert of the woods,
In solitary caves and dark abodes;
Where pining wander'd the rejected fair,
'Till harrass'd out, and worn away with care,
The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft,
Besides her bones and voice had nothing left.
Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found
In vaults, where still it doubles ev'ry sound.

Relief of nymph Echo in the Parc del Laberint d’Horta in Barcelona




The Story of Narcissus

Narcissus continued to reject his nymph admirers. One wanted revenge. Her love for him was all in vain. So she prayed to the gods, asking them if they could make Narcissus suffer unrequited love as well. And her prayers were answered.

In a shady forest there is a fountain pool. The air is so still there, that the surface is like a mirror. Narcissus happens upon it. He is hot. To cool himself, he dips for a drink. But then, he feels a new heat. He's in love. But his fixation is his own image in the pool.


Caravaggio Narcissus


But whilst within the chrystal fount he tries
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise.
For as his own bright image he survey'd,
He fell in love with the fantastick shade;
And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd,
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd.
The well-turn'd neck and shoulders he descries,
The spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes;
The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show,
And hair that round Apollo's head might flow;
With all the purple youthfulness of face,
That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.
When he tries to kiss or embrace his new lover, he only obscures the view by disturbing the waters reflecting his face. But he cannot move away either. For as soon as he steps aside from the pool, his handsome lover dies.

Francois Lemoyne Narcissus



So he remained there motionless gazing at himself, neither eating nor sleeping. Desperate, he pleads the trees for sympathy.


(Regius, 1495)


"You trees," says he, "and thou surrounding grove,
Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love,
Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lye
A youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I?
I, who before me see the charming fair,
Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there:
In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost

Johann Wilhelm Baur



He knows now that it is himself he loves. He wants to unite with himself. But to do so, he would need to separate from himself, so that his own advances do not destroy his beloved image. His excessive self-love causes an overwhelming internal rift.


Placido Costanzi Narcissus and Echo (18th Century)


It is my self I love, my self I see;
The gay delusion is a part of me.
I kindle up the fires by which I burn,
And my own beauties from the well return.
Whom should I court? how utter my complaint?
Enjoyment but produces my restraint,
And too much plenty makes me die for want.
How gladly would I from my self remove!
And at a distance set the thing I love.
My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire,
I wish him absent whom I most desire.

Salvador Dalì The Metamorphosis of Narcissus



Exasperated, Narcissus feels his death drawing upon him. His dying wish is that his lover survive him. But he sees that as his life fades, so too does his beloved reflection.


John William Waterhouse Echo and Narcissus (1903)


And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh;
In all the pride of blooming youth I die.
Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve.
Oh might the visionary youth survive,
I should with joy my latest breath resign!
But oh! I see his fate involv'd in mine.

Nicolas Poussin Narziß und Echo (Narcissus and Echo)



Narcissus cries upon the pool, wrinkling and deforming his lover.


Richard Baxter Echo and Narcissus


His tears defac'd the surface of the well,
With circle after circle, as they fell:
And now the lovely face but half appears,
O'er-run with wrinkles, and deform'd with tears.
Narcissus is unhappy to see his lover vanish into the ripples. He wants to die seeing him fully, and completely. He wants to die in his deepest passion for himself. So he tears off his clothes and beats his chest. This produces colorful fruit-like patches on his skin. His own beauty overwhelms him. And he dies.


[Stefano Bolognini] Narciso ed Eco (Narcissus and Echo)


Let me still feed the flame by which I die;
Let me still see, tho' I'm no further blest."
Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast:
His naked bosom redden'd with the blow,
In such a blush as purple clusters show,
Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine
Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine.
The glowing beauties of his breast he spies,
And with a new redoubled passion dies.
Narcissus melts like ice in the sun, leaving none of his youthful beauty behind.

Echo witnesses Narcissus' death. And she echoed back his sighs and groans. Echo returns Narcissus' 'farewell.' Or was it merely to his lonely self he bids good-bye?


Nicolas Poussin Echo und Narziß (Echo and Narcissus) (1929-1930)


"Farewel," says he; the parting sound scarce fell
From his faint lips, but she reply'd, "farewel."
Then on th' wholsome earth he gasping lyes,
'Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes.
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires,
And in the Stygian waves it self admires.
Nothing is left of Narcissus except his namesake flower.

For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn,
Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn;
And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn:
When, looking for his corps, they only found
A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown'd.

John William Waterhouse Narcissus





From Ovid Book the Third


The Transformation of Echo

Fam'd far and near for knowing things to come,
From him th' enquiring nations sought their doom;
The fair Liriope his answers try'd,
And first th' unerring prophet justify'd.
This nymph the God Cephisus had abus'd,
With all his winding waters circumfus'd,
And on the Nereid got a lovely boy,
Whom the soft maids ev'n then beheld with joy.

The tender dame, sollicitous to know
Whether her child should reach old age or no,
Consults the sage Tiresias, who replies,
"If e'er he knows himself he surely dies."
Long liv'd the dubious mother in suspence,
'Till time unriddled all the prophet's sense.

Narcissus now his sixteenth year began,
Just turn'd of boy, and on the verge of man;
Many a friend the blooming youth caress'd,
Many a love-sick maid her flame confess'd:
Such was his pride, in vain the friend caress'd,
The love-sick maid in vain her flame confess'd.

Once, in the woods, as he pursu'd the chace,
The babbling Echo had descry'd his face;
She, who in others' words her silence breaks,
Nor speaks her self but when another speaks.
Echo was then a maid, of speech bereft,
Of wonted speech; for tho' her voice was left,
Juno a curse did on her tongue impose,
To sport with ev'ry sentence in the close.
Full often when the Goddess might have caught
Jove and her rivals in the very fault,
This nymph with subtle stories would delay
Her coming, 'till the lovers slip'd away.
The Goddess found out the deceit in time,
And then she cry'd, "That tongue, for this thy crime,
Which could so many subtle tales produce,
Shall be hereafter but of little use."
Hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone,
With mimick sounds, and accents not her own.

This love-sick virgin, over-joy'd to find
The boy alone, still follow'd him behind:
When glowing warmly at her near approach,
As sulphur blazes at the taper's touch,
She long'd her hidden passion to reveal,
And tell her pains, but had not words to tell:
She can't begin, but waits for the rebound,
To catch his voice, and to return the sound.

The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move,
Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love,
Liv'd in the shady covert of the woods,
In solitary caves and dark abodes;
Where pining wander'd the rejected fair,
'Till harrass'd out, and worn away with care,
The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft,
Besides her bones and voice had nothing left.
Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found
In vaults, where still it doubles ev'ry sound.


The Story of Narcissus


Thus did the nymphs in vain caress the boy,
He still was lovely, but he still was coy;
When one fair virgin of the slighted train
Thus pray'd the Gods, provok'd by his disdain,
"Oh may he love like me, and love like me in vain!"
Rhamnusia pity'd the neglected fair,
And with just vengeance answer'd to her pray'r.

There stands a fountain in a darksom wood,
Nor stain'd with falling leaves nor rising mud;
Untroubled by the breath of winds it rests,
Unsully'd by the touch of men or beasts;
High bow'rs of shady trees above it grow,
And rising grass and chearful greens below.
Pleas'd with the form and coolness of the place,
And over-heated by the morning chace,
Narcissus on the grassie verdure lyes:
But whilst within the chrystal fount he tries
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise.
For as his own bright image he survey'd,
He fell in love with the fantastick shade;
And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd,
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd.
The well-turn'd neck and shoulders he descries,
The spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes;
The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show,
And hair that round Apollo's head might flow;
With all the purple youthfulness of face,
That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.
By his own flames consum'd the lover lyes,
And gives himself the wound by which he dies.
To the cold water oft he joins his lips,
Oft catching at the beauteous shade he dips
His arms, as often from himself he slips.
Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue
With eager clasps, but loves he knows not who.

What could, fond youth, this helpless passion move?
What kindled in thee this unpity'd love?
Thy own warm blush within the water glows,
With thee the colour'd shadow comes and goes,
Its empty being on thy self relies;
Step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies.

Still o'er the fountain's wat'ry gleam he stood,
Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food;
Still view'd his face, and languish'd as he view'd.
At length he rais'd his head, and thus began
To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain.
"You trees," says he, "and thou surrounding grove,
Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love,
Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lye
A youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I?
I, who before me see the charming fair,
Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there:
In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost:
And yet no bulwark'd town, nor distant coast,
Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen,
No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between.
A shallow water hinders my embrace;
And yet the lovely mimick wears a face
That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join
My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine.
Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint,
Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant.
My charms an easy conquest have obtain'd
O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdain'd.
But why should I despair? I'm sure he burns
With equal flames, and languishes by turns.
When-e'er I stoop, he offers at a kiss,
And when my arms I stretch, he stretches his.
His eye with pleasure on my face he keeps,
He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps.
When e'er I speak, his moving lips appear
To utter something, which I cannot hear.

"Ah wretched me! I now begin too late
To find out all the long-perplex'd deceit;
It is my self I love, my self I see;
The gay delusion is a part of me.
I kindle up the fires by which I burn,
And my own beauties from the well return.
Whom should I court? how utter my complaint?
Enjoyment but produces my restraint,
And too much plenty makes me die for want.
How gladly would I from my self remove!
And at a distance set the thing I love.
My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire,
I wish him absent whom I most desire.
And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh;
In all the pride of blooming youth I die.
Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve.
Oh might the visionary youth survive,
I should with joy my latest breath resign!
But oh! I see his fate involv'd in mine."

This said, the weeping youth again return'd
To the clear fountain, where again he burn'd;
His tears defac'd the surface of the well,
With circle after circle, as they fell:
And now the lovely face but half appears,
O'er-run with wrinkles, and deform'd with tears.
"Ah whither," cries Narcissus, "dost thou fly?
Let me still feed the flame by which I die;
Let me still see, tho' I'm no further blest."
Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast:
His naked bosom redden'd with the blow,
In such a blush as purple clusters show,
Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine
Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine.
The glowing beauties of his breast he spies,
And with a new redoubled passion dies.
As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run,
And trickle into drops before the sun;
So melts the youth, and languishes away,
His beauty withers, and his limbs decay;
And none of those attractive charms remain,
To which the slighted Echo su'd in vain.

She saw him in his present misery,
Whom, spight of all her wrongs, she griev'd to see.
She answer'd sadly to the lover's moan,
Sigh'd back his sighs, and groan'd to ev'ry groan:
"Ah youth! belov'd in vain," Narcissus cries;
"Ah youth! belov'd in vain," the nymph replies.
"Farewel," says he; the parting sound scarce fell
From his faint lips, but she reply'd, "farewel."
Then on th' wholsome earth he gasping lyes,
'Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes.
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires,
And in the Stygian waves it self admires.

For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn,
Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn;
And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn:
When, looking for his corps, they only found
A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown'd.


Images from:






John William Waterhouse Echo and Narcissus (1903) http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Echo_and_Narcissus.jpg

Nicolas Poussin Narziß und Echo (Narcissus and Echo) http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Nicolas_Poussin_069.jpg

Richard Baxter Echo and Narcissus http://www.latein-pagina.de/ovid/ovid_m3.htm

[Stefano Bolognini] Narciso ed Eco (Narcissus and Echo) http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Affresco_romano_-_Pompei_-_Narciso_ed_Eco.JPG

Nicolas Poussin Echo und Narziß (Echo and Narcissus) (1929-1930) http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Nicolas_Poussin_069.jpg



Text from:

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Sir Samuel Garth, John Dryden, et al, transl. Available online at: http://classics.mit.edu/Ovid/metam.html