Aria da Capo & What Makes a Man Powerful?

Power in Aria da Capo

In the historic issue of The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known titled "What Caused the Wars," Eli Siegel writes:

It is necessary to see that while the contempt which is in every one of us may make ordinary life more painful than it should be, this contempt is also the main cause of wars. It was contempt that made for the trenches of France in 1915...

In her critical, intense one-act play in verse titled Aria da Capo, Edna St. Vincent Millay presented something new about the relation of what goes on between two people in "ordinary life" to what makes for the horror of war. Written after World War I and first performed in 1919 at the Provincetown Playhouse on MacDougal Street, this anti-war play is so relevant today. It is about power—the suspicion, greed and plotting between two people that, on a larger scale, has made for international tragedy.

The title Aria da Capo is a musical term for a composition in three parts, the last of which is an exact repeat of the first. That is what happens in the play—it ends, dramatically, as it began.

Eli Siegel lectured magnificently on the subject of history. In one lecture, describing the atmosphere prior to World War I, he spoke of the complacency of people. There was a smug feeling that so much progress had been made by man, the world was now "civilized" and the evil of war was a thing of the past. Then, people were stunned by the unexpectedness, horror and massiveness of the war. "People think the shock is over," Eli Siegel said, "but the world has not recovered yet."

Edna St. Vincent Millay gets that feeling of complacency in the opening scene of Aria da Capo. The curtain rises and we see the stage "set for a Harliquinade, a merry black and white interior" and a table "set with a banquet." At the table are a woman and man, Columbine and Pierrot—classical characters from the commedia dell'arte, who here are like any spoiled couple. The scene begins:

Columbine:  Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live
Without a macaroon!

Pierrot:  My only love,
You are so intense...Is it Tuesday, Columbine?-
I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday.

C:  It is Wednesday,
If you must know...Is this my artichoke,
Or yours?

P:  Ah, Columbine,-as if it mattered!
Wednesday....Will it be Tuesday, then, tomorrow,
By any chance?

C:  Tomorrow will be - Pierrot,
That isn't funny!

P:  I thought it rather nice.
Well, let us drink some wine and lose our heads
And love each other...

C:  Pierrot, do you know, I think you drink too much.

P:  Yes, I dare say I do....Or else too little.
It's hard to tell. You see, I am always wanting
A little more than what I have - or else
A little less. There's something wrong...

Pierrot does not know what day it is and with its seeming innocence we can ask, is this contempt, is there power in trivializing the facts of the world? Also, this scene has what I learned men and women can go for—a power feeling "You and I have each other, we don't need the outside world."

In an Aesthetic Realism class, Ellen Reiss spoke to me about being "exclusive" with a woman, and feeling that our hours together were "holy." Meanwhile, Pierrot says, "There's something wrong," which is quite true. And in his lines, "I am always wanting / A little more than what I have - or else / A little less."—I believe Edna St. Vincent Millay is showing the honest discontent we feel when our purpose is to lessen things; we can never feel satisfied.

Throughout the scene Pierrot tries to be powerful by making fun of Columbine. He says Columbine could be an actress; she says she cannot act, and then he really gives it to her:

P:  Can't act!...La, listen to the woman!
What's that to do with the price of furs?-You're blonde,
Are you not?-You have no education, have you?-...
You under-rate yourself, my dear!

I am very grateful to Aesthetic Realism and Ellen Reiss for what I'm learning about the true power a man wants to feel in how he sees a woman. Like Pierrot, I have been tyrannical with a woman I cared for—and then felt so ashamed. In an Aesthetic Realism class, Miss Reiss showed me this was about a notion of power which stopped me from being able to love someone: "You liked [acting] superior to a woman," she said. And she asked, "Do you think that helped your intelligence?" It definitely didn't.

I am proud now to feel an utterly different kind of power in love and my thoughts about people—the power of trying to have good will, which Mr. Siegel has described as "the desire to have something else stronger and more beautiful, for this desire makes oneself stronger and more beautiful." It means very much to me to be able to think deeply about the woman I love, my wife, Meryl Nietsch-Cooperman, and what will strengthen her. I am grateful for Meryl's kindness and her criticism of me, which I need to be a better person.

In Aria da Capo, in the midst of this discussion of macaroons and such, a very dramatic thing occurs—into the scene enters Cothurnus, a character from classical Greek tragedy. He is the stage manager and says Pierrot and Columbine must leave so the next scene can be played. They exit and two shepherds, Corydon and Thyrsis, enter. But Corydon, looking about, says to Cothurnus:

Corydon:  ...this is the setting for a farce...We cannot
Act a tragedy with comic properties!

And in Cothurnus' reply—"Try it and see. I think you'll find you can"—Miss Millay is saying that what can seem light and everyday is not so far from tragedy. "The contempt which is in... ordinary life," as Eli Siegel said "is also the main cause of wars."

Corydon and Thyrsis are good friends. They recline peacefully against crepe-paper "rocks," observing their flock.

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