COVE

Quatrain XLIII of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, presents a satirical critique of religious orthodoxy and celebrates more personal and experiential ways of finding meaning. The stanza proposes that wine, usually a symbol of pleasure and wisdom, can succeed where logic and the religious debate fail, which is offering instant transformation. The illustration by Edmund J. Sullivan dramatizes this idea depicting an alchemist figure who embodies the scholarly and absurd, surrounded by ritualistic symbols, spectacle, and indulgence. The stanza and illustration reject rigid systems of “truth”, and instead suggest that life’s “leaden Metal” can be turned to “Gold” but not through argument or belief, but rather through the willingness to embrace uncertainty, sensation, and joy. Through this combination the work supports The Rubáiyát's philosophical theme which challenges eternal concepts while doubting established beliefs and asserts that brief worldly delights contain more authentic truth than religious doctrines meant to survive beyond human existence.

Firstly, Sullivan’s illustration needs a closer look. It presents a very detailed and densely populated scene centered around a theatrical alchemist man. He stands barefoot and front-facing, wearing an open academic robe that exposes most of his body, which could be seen as a blend of the formal and informal. On his head he has a traditional mortarboard cap adorned with grapevines, and in his left hand he holds a stick pointing toward a large mystical diagram. This chart has a prominent “ABRACADABRA,” at the top of a circle full of   overlapping triangles forming a hexagram, which is filled with astrological and alchemical symbols, and a heart-shaped cluster of grapes in the middle. Adding some irony, at the bottom of the circle we see the letters “Q.E.D.” (quod erat demonstrandum), which is Latin for “which was to be demonstrated”. To the right of the alchemist a bearded man sits, possibly asleep or just contemplating, crowned with grape leaves, possibly asleep or in quiet contemplation, with a wine flask placed on the table between him and the alchemist. In the foreground, there are two leopards near the alchemist’s feet, who we now also notice is standing on some sort of wood podium. Seated/standing across from the alchemist there is an audience, in which there are two robed figures wearing a bishop’s mitre, one Catholic the other perhaps Christian Orthodox; there is a more Eastern Orthodox looking priest; and in the bottom left corner there is a man wearing a tall cylindrical black hat and a woman wearing a bonnet with a ribbon with the world “Salvation”, most likely members of upper class.

The stanza alone already is full of these tensions as it presents quite a layered reflection on the power of joy to resolve what logic, doctrine, and possibly money, cannot. The poem opens saying that “The Grape” is capable of disproving “The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects,”, which could be understood as a metaphorical claim that wine, or more broadly, pleasure/lived experience, has the power to silence religious and ideological discord. “The Two-and-Seventy” is likely to be referring to the many sects within organized religion, which argue endlessly between them yet don’t resolve much. So rather than offering a more  rational solution, the stanza introduces “The subtle Alchemist,” a figure who, “in a Trice,” (in a moment) can transmute “Life’s leaden Metal into Gold.” This reference to alchemy changes the poem from a philosophical argument to a metaphorical transformation: where religion and/or logic fail to provide meaning to one, wine performs a kind of spiritual chemistry, which converts the dullness of the ordinary existence into something precious. The poem is full of a sly tone which is only enhanced further by it’s rhythm and diction, with terms like “Logic absolute” and “confute” evoking more of a formal reasoning only to later be subverted by the magical/mystical ease of the alchemist in his “Trice”. The stanza offers in four lines a playful and strong challenge against the systems of belief, suggesting that joy achieved through the immediacy of wine might be overly more effective than their whole structure and theory.

Sullivan’s illustration helps bring this idea to life, adding irony, and a theatricality to the verse. We have the “subtle Alchemist” who is shown as a dynamic and contradictory figure, part academic, part mystic and performer. His gesture pointing toward the mystical chart, with its occult symbols and the heart-shaped grape cluster in the middle, basically literalizes the stanza’s metaphor establishing the Grape as a visual centerpiece of transformation. The first two lines of the stanza are also acted on the illustration, with the alchemist wielding both wine and spectacle taking the place on stage while the philosophers, theologians and others watch. As mentioned before, in front of him there are clerical figures of different religious sects, and some possible upper class people, which are figures that usually embody institutional and a moral authority, but here are just presented silent and almost decorative. This great reversal of religious and social hierarchy contributes to the stanza’s idea that joy/wine rather than doctrine, dissolves conflict and offers clarity. We have the leopards too, which can be interpreted as some kind of wildness to this whole idea of challenging authorities, but perhaps is just to provide some Eastern and exotic touch to it. There’s also the bearded figure crowned with grapevines in the background (who probably is a representation of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine-making) resting with his eyes closed, which embodies the final lines of the poem: “The Alchemist that in a Trice / Life’s leaden Metal into Gold transmute.” His peaceful resting along with the wine jar close to him, suggesting what the alchemist is promoting, does indeed bring joy and calm with the most immediacy.