--W. S. Graham
The First Lesson
So that each
person may quickly find that
Which
particularly concerns him, certain metaphors
Convenient to
us within the compass of this
Lesson are to
be allowed. It is best I sit
Here where I
am to speak on the other side
Of language.
You, of course, in your own time
And incident
(I speak in the small hours.)
Will listen
from your side. I am very pleased
We have
sought us out. No doubt you have read
My Flute
Book. Come. The Guild clock's iron men
Are striking
out their few deserted hours
And here from
my high window Brueghel's winter
Locks the
canal below. I blow my fingers.
Good morning,
Karl. Sit down. I have been thinking
About your
progress and my progress as one
Who teaches
you, a young man with talent
And the rarer
gift of application. I think
You must now
be becoming a musician
Of a certain
calibre. It is right maybe
That in our
lessons now I should expect
Slight and
very polite impatiences
To show in
you. Karl, I think it is true,
You are now
nearly able to play the flute.
Now we must
try higher, aware of the terrible
Shapes of
silence sitting outside your ear
Anxious to
define you and really love you.
Remember
silence is curious about its opposite
Element which
you shall learn to represent.
Enough of
that. Now stand in the correct position
So that the
wood of the floor will come up through you.
Stand, but
not too stiff. Keep your elbows down.
Now take a
simple breath and make me a shape
Of clear
unchained started and finished tones.
Karl, as well
as you are able, stop
Your fingers
into the breathing apertures
And speak and
make the cylinder delight us.
A study to
take lightly. I am cold waiting
Put one piece
of coal in the stove. This lesson
Shall not be
prolonged. Right. Stand in your place.
Ready? Blow
me a little ladder of sound
From a good
stance so that you feel the heavy
Press of the
floor coming up through you and
Keeping your
pitch and tone in character.
Now that is
something, Karl. You are getting on.
Unswell your
head. One more piece of coal.
Go on now but
remember it must be a1ways
Easy and
flowing. Light and shadow must
Be varied but
be varied in your mind
Before you
hear the eventual return sound.
Play me the
dance you made for the barge-master.
Stop stop
Karl. Play it as you first thought
Of it in the
hot boat-kitchen That is a pleasure
For me. I can
see I am making you good.
Keep the
stove red. Hand me the matches. Now
We can see
better. Give me a shot at the pipe.
Karl, I can
still put on a good flute-mouth
And show you
in this high cold room something
You will be
famous to have said you heard.
You are early
this morning What we have to do
Today is
think of you as a little creator
After the big
creator. And it can be argued
You are as
necessary, even a composer
Composing in
the flesh an attitude
To slay the
ears of the gentry. Karl,
I know you
find great joy in the great
Composers.
But now you can put your lips to
The messages
and blow them into sound
And enter and
be there as well. You must
Be faithful
to who you are speaking from
And yet it is
all right. You will be there.
Take your
coat off. Sit down. A glass of Bols
Will help us
both. I think you are good enough
To not need
me anymore. I think you know
You are not
only an interpreter.
What you will
do is always something else
and they will
hear you simultaneously with
The Art you
have been given to read. Karl,
I think the
Spring is really coming at last.
I see the
canal boys working. I realise
I have not
asked you to play the flute today.
Come and
look. Are the barges not moving?
You must
forgive me. I am not myself today.
Be here on
Thursday. When you come, bring
Me five
herrings. Watch your fingers. Spring
Is apparent
but it is still chilblain weather.
Dear Karl,
this morning is our last lesson.
I have been
given the opportunity to
Live in a
certain person's house and tutor
Him and his
daughters on the traverse flute.
Karl, you
will be all right. In those recent
lessons my
heart lifted to your playing
I know. I see
you doing well, invited
In a great
chamber in front of the gentry. I
Can see them
with their dresses settling in
And bored
mouths beneath moustaches sizing
You up as you
are, a lout from the canal
With big ears
but an angel's tread on the flute.
But you will
be all right. Stand in your place
Before them.
Remember Johann. Begin with good
Nerve and
decision. Do not intrude too much
Into the
message you carry and put out.
One last
thing, Karl, remember when you enter
The joy of
those quick high archipelagoes,
To make to
keep your finger-stops as light
As feathers
but definite. What can I say more?
Do not be
sentimental or in your Art.
I will miss
you. Do not expect applause.