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Etruscan Places |
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written
by ninamil7 / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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The word choice used by Lawrence can be analyzed under the consideration that he is facing his own mortality while admiring the mortality of the ancient Etruscans. Although he is a dying man, Lawrence does not seem to dwell on this fact. He focuses almost entirely on the presence of life in the tombs. In the Tomb of the Leopard, Lawrence claims, “The walls of this tomb are a dance of real delight.” He goes on to describe the scene of dancers and music players, a “banquet going on in all its glory,” and two spotted leopards on either side of a little tree. He claims that when viewing the painted tombs, “you cannot think of art, but only of life itself, as if this were the very life of the Etruscans.” This statement is a clear reflection of Lawrence’s state of mind. He is a dying man who seeks hope in life and life in death. He refuses to see the Etruscan tombs as nothing more than a “pathetic little room with unimposing, half-obliterated, scratchy little paintings in tempra.”
Lawrence is clearly impressed with the Etruscan culture and lifestyle. Unlike their ultimate Roman oppressors who were focused on conquering power, the Etruscans had a real desire to “preserve the natural humour of life.” Lawrence contrasts the brute strength of the Romans with the delicateness of the Etruscans by observing that in the end, “that which lives lives by delicate sensitiveness.” At Lawrence’s stage of life, not far from his own death, it is not surprising that he would be inclined to make such an observation. He feels a connection with the delicate side of life as opposed to brute force and devastating power.
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Part 2: |
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Contrary to the setting, Lawrence’s writings about the Etruscan tombs are full of life. In the dark, underground tombs, Lawrence sees more than “a pathetic little room with unimposing, half-obliterated, scratchy little paintings;” he sees the real Etruscan liveliness and naturalness. He sees the “egg of resurrection, within which the germ sleeps.” The image of the egg, and all of its meaning, is what stuck in my mind as we journeyed from tomb to tomb and even all the way through the museum.
In the tomb of the leopards, I distinctly recall a man in the corner of the fresco holding an egg out in front of him. It was an egg “within which the germ sleeps as the soul sleeps in the tomb, before it breaks the shell and emerges again.” The idea of being born again into the afterlife turns death into nothing more than a resting spot before one is to continue on, and to be able to condense this idea into one symbol, a symbol that fits into a man’s hand, makes for a very powerful image. This very image is the one that I have brought back from Tarquinia, and even if the actual picture fades from my mind over time, the symbolism is likely to stick with me. The egg puts the beginning of life and the afterlife into a tangible form that is easily grasped.
By choosing the egg as the dominant image that will stay with me it would seem that I tend to steer towards the more tangible aspects of life, and avoid the abstract. In a sense, this is very true. It is important to me to be able to see and fully understand what I am looking at. I like to be able to answer questions with proof and evidence. I find myself easily frustrated with any prolonged contemplation of space and the universe due to its utter incomprehensibility. I would much rather look into a microscope than a telescope.
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