The other day when I was a little early for a meeting I climbed the steps to the Old Calton Burial Ground (see photo)
to go and look at the monument to the philosopher David Hume. It’s a kind of empty stone cylinder into which the sunlight shines, and is always intriguing to contemplate.
On my way down the steps I noticed for the first time a gravestone commemorating a Mr Woods, an eighteenth-century actor who was said to be a friend of the poets Robert Burns and Robert Fergusson – both of whom are well known to posterity.
I was touched by the wording on Mr Woods’s tombstone. It read:
‘From about 1772 until 1802, Mr WOODS was the favourite and leading actor upon the Edinburgh stage.
‘Pity it is that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record, that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath that presents them, and at best can but faintly glimmer through the memory or imperfect attestation of a few surviving spectators.’
It made me think of musicians, and of how their playing is transient except in the memories of those who heard them. These days we have recordings and films which preserve something of musicians’ playing (if not the atmosphere of their performances) but in Mr Woods’ day there was nothing like that. He may have been the favourite actor on the Edinburgh stage for thirty years, but there’s no way for us to know what his acting style was or why people liked it so much.
I found it cheering to think that some of Mr Woods’ friends had arranged for his gravestone to be marked with this compassionate observation.
What a lovely discovery!
Yes, Mr. Wood’s acting, and a musician’s playing , are transient, but one will never know if the effects on the listener are permanent, life changing, or inspiring. The experiences of audiences can have a profound and long lasting effect, even if introducing them to something they grow to love, and they pass that love on.