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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
180
And
yet
he
wins
after
all.
At
the
very
last
moment
he
seems
to
summon
all
his
remaining
strength
and
in
one
final
and
devastating
sweep
mows
down
the
orchestra
rank
by
rank....
You
awake
from
the
nightmare
to
discover
the
victor
acknowledging
the
applause
in
a
series
of
his
inimitable
bows.
One
ought
to
pack
one's
ears
up
with
cotton
wool
at
a
concert
where
Sir
Henry
conducts.
Otherwise,
the
music
is
apt
to
distract
one's
attention.
R.L.S.
wanted
to
be
at
the
head
of
a
cavalry
charge--sword
over
head--but
I'd
rather
fight
an
orchestra
with
a
baton.
Beethoven's
Fifth
Symphony
This
symphony
always
works
me
up
into
an
ecstasy;
in
ecstatic
sympathy
with
its
dreadfulness
I
could
stand
up
in
the
balcony
and
fling
myself
down
passionately
into
the
arena
below.
Yet
there
were
women
sitting
alongside
me
to-day--knitting!
It
so
annoyed
and
irritated
me
that
at
the
end
of
the
first
movement
I
got
up
and
sat
elsewhere.
They
would
have
sat
knitting
at
the
foot
of
the
Cross,
I
suppose.
At
the
end
of
the
second
movement,
two
or
three
other
women
got
up
and
went
home
to
tea!
It
would
have
surprised
me
no
more
to
have
seen
a
cork
extract
itself
from
its
bottle
and
promenade.
Tschaikovsky
Just
lately
I've
heard
a
lot
of
music
including
Tschaikovsky's
Pathétique
and
Fifth
Symphonies,
some
Debussy,
and
odd
pieces
by
Dukas,
Glinka,
Smetana,
Mozart.
I
am
chock-full
of
impressions
of
all
this
precious
stuff
and
scarcely
know
what
to
write.
As
usual,
the
third
movement
of
the
Pathétique
produced
a
frenzy
of
exhilaration;
I
seemed
to
put
on
several
inches
around
my
chest
and
wished
to
shout
in
a
voice
of
thunder.
The
conventions
of
a
public
concert
hall
are
dreadfully
oppressive
at
such
times.
I
could
have
eaten
"all
the
elephants
of
Hindustan
and
picked
my
teeth
with
the
spire
of
Strassburg
Cathedral."
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