It’s Sunday morning and I am reading a poem written around 1936 by Ezra Pound.
It is about Usury , in this context the bad practice of the Medici Bank which Pound claimed screwed up the great artistic achievements of medieval Europe
It is Canto 45 which you can hear Pound incant. Click this link and follow the words!
With usura hath no man a house of good stoneeach block cut smooth and well fittingthat design might cover their face,with usurahath no man a painted paradise on his church wallharpes et luzor where virgin receiveth messageand halo projects from incision,with usuraseeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubinesno picture is made to endure nor to live withbut it is made to sell and sell quicklywith usura, sin against nature,is thy bread ever more of stale ragsis thy bread dry as paper,with no mountain wheat, no strong flourwith usura the line grows thickwith usura is no clear demarcationand no man can find site for his dwelling.Stonecutter is kept from his toneweaver is kept from his loomWITH USURAwool comes not to marketsheep bringeth no gain with usuraUsura is a murrain, usurablunteth the needle in the maid’s handand stoppeth the spinner’s cunning. Pietro Lombardocame not by usuraDuccio came not by usuranor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin’ not by usuranor was ‘La Calunnia’ painted.Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis,Came no church of cut stone signed: Adamo me fecit.Not by usura St. TrophimeNot by usura Saint Hilaire,Usura rusteth the chiselIt rusteth the craft and the craftsmanIt gnaweth the thread in the loomNone learneth to weave gold in her pattern;Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroideredEmerald findeth no MemlingUsura slayeth the child in the wombIt stayeth the young man’s courtingIt hath brought palsey to bed, lyethbetween the young bride and her bridegroomCONTRA NATURAMThey have brought whores for EleusisCorpses are set to banquetat behest of usura.
Pound later defined Usury as a charge on credit regardless of potential or actual production and the creation of wealth out of nothing (ex nhilo) by a bank to the benefit of its shareholders. The poem declares this practice both contrary to the laws of nature and inimical to the production of anything good.
The great insight is that it is not the banks or the bankers that is the root cause of the problem.
The root cause is the idea , the idea that something can be created out of nothing.
And this is where the tectonic plates of society and business grind against each other like ill-set teeth. For Pound, social virtues were always expressed in “art”. Art became a metaphor for social good.
But, later in life, when facing death in a prison camp in Pisa, he wrote another poem, Canto 81. Between the two poems was only 9 years but for 5 of those years the world had been at war. Pound found himself in the camp for his repugnant support of both Mussolini and Hitler whose propaganda machines he made himself a part of.
This photo was taken at the time
In a cell open to the elements he wrote several poems that put faith not in ideas but in humanity and specifically in man’s capacity to lift himself above the filth.
The noblest expression of Pound’s humanity, his vulnerability and his greatness comes in this passage. Again there is a beautiful reading of the words by Pound you can listen and watch here
What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross
What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
Elysium, though it were in the halls of Hell,
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage.
This blog is not meant to be a cheap shot at banks or bankers, but an offering of an alternative way to deal with the issues of modern capitalism (what Pound could call the canker of Usura).
Canto 81 ends with a great heave of hope that can inspire us all to see beyond the shameless profiteering of our financial system to something that we can make of lasting value.
The ant’s a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity, it is not man
Made courage, or made order, or made grace,
Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.
Learn of the green world what can be thy place
In scaled invention or true artistry.
Pull down thy vanity,
Paquin pull down!
The green casque has outdone your elegance.
“Master thyself, then others shall thee beare”
Pull down thy vanity
Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail,
A swollen magpie in a fitful sun,
Half black half white
Nor knowst’ou wing from tail
Pull down thy vanity
How mean thy hates
Fostered in falsity,
Pull down thy vanity,
Rathe to destroy, niggard in charity,
Pull down thy vanity,
I say pull down.
But to have done instead of not doing
this is not vanity
To have, with decency, knocked
That a Blunt should open
To have gathered from the air a live tradition
or from a fine old eye the unconquered flame
This is not vanity.
Here error is all in the not done,
all in the diffidence that faltered.
Related articles
- Fra Angelico’s The Annunciation (artandtheeveryday.wordpress.com)
- What does Musica Ex Nihilo mean? (musicaexnihilo.wordpress.com)