Sentences like a Funeral Cortège
New Directions has published a new edition of Sir Thomas Browne’s Urn Burial, or, to use its full title, Hydriotaphia, Urne-Buriall, or a Brief Discourse of the Sepulchrall Urnes Lately Found in Norfolk. Originally published in 1658 in tandem with a work called The Garden of Cyrus or the Quincunciall, Lozenge, or Net-work Plantations of the Ancients, Artificially, Naturally, Mystically Considered. With Sundry Observations (you won’t learn this from the New Directions volume), Urn Burial was prompted by the discovery of ancient Roman urns buried in a nearby field. New Directions reprints nearly the whole first chapter of W.G. Sebald’s The Rings of Saturn as a “Preface” to their new edition.
Sebald found in Browne a kindred spirit of a very high order, and when Sebald writes about Browne he seems to be writing about himself as well. The two writers’ similarities are manifold, from their fascination with nature and mortality to their love of words. Warranted or not, Sebald seems to have wanted to view Browne as a fellow melancholic.
On every new thing [Sebald writes] there lies already the shadow of annihilation. For the history of every individual, of every social order, indeed of the whole world, does not describe an ever-widening, more and more wonderful arc, but rather follows a course which, once the meridian is reached, leads without fail down into the dark. Knowledge of that descent into the dark, for Browne, is inseparable from his belief in the day of resurrection…
Sebald himself seems to have indicated the same hope for resurrection.
Sebald loved Browne’s writing, which can easily be seen as a model for Sebald’s own style.
The invisibility and intangibility of that which moves us remained an unfathomable mystery for Thomas Browne, too, who saw our world as no more than a shadow image of another one far beyond. In his thinking and writing he therefore sought to look upon earthly existence, from the things that were closest to him to the spheres of the universe, with the eye of an outsider, one might even say of the creator. His only means of achieving the sublime heights that this endeavor required was a parlous loftiness in his language. On common with other English writers of the seventeenth century, Browne wrote out of the fullness of his erudition, deploying a vast repertoire of quotations and the names of authorities who had gone before, creating complex metaphors and analogies, and constructing labyrinthine sentences that sometimes extend over one or two pages, sentences that resemble processions or a funeral cortège in their sheer ceremonial lavishness. It is true that, because of the immense weight of the impediments he is carrying, Browne’s writing can be held back by the force of gravitation, but when he does succeed in rising higher and higher through the circles of his spiralling prose, borne aloft like a glider on warm currents of air, even today the reader is overcome by a sense of levitation. The greater the distance, the clearer the view: one sees the tiniest of details with the utmost clarity. It is as if one were looking through a reversed opera glass and through a microscope at the same time. And yet, says Browne, all knowledge is enveloped in darkness. What we perceive are no more than isolated lights in the abyss of ignorance, in the shadow-filled edifice of the world. We study the order of things, says Browne, but we cannot grasp their innermost essence.
New Directions has released Urn Burial as part of its Pearls series, “favorite ND authors in small format books.” Each volume comes with an attractive minimalist cover – the early ones all being variations on a rhomboid. (I confess to being a minimalist freak.) The Browne volume is supposed to look something like the image below, which I took from New Directions’ website. Unfortunately, my copy arrived with the yellow already faded to nothingness. Perhaps appropriately so.