Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
din Galai
Facultatea de Litere
Specializarea:
Limba i literatura romn Limba i literatura englez
Curs opional de
literatur englez
Prof. univ. dr. Michaela Praisler
D.I.D.F.R.
UDJG
Facultatea de Litere
TWENTIETH CENTURY
ENGLISH POETRY
(Elective Course in English Literature
for 3rd Year Students)
Course tutor:
Professor Michaela Praisler
Galai
2012
Contents
Introduction Recent Metamorphoses of Poetic Discourse
10
10
13
22
22
27
32
34
34
40
References
46
Appendices
Other Imagist Writing
Twentieth Century Perspectives on Poetry
47
47
49
IN SHORT:
10
Essays (a selection)
- A Few Donts by an Imagiste (1913)
- Imaginary Letters (1930)
- How to Read (1931)
- ABC of Economics (1933)
- ABC of Reading (1934)
- Jefferson and/or Mussolini (1935)
- Polite Essays (1937)
- Culture (1938)
- What Is Money For? (1939)
- Patria Mia (1950)
- Brancusi (1957)
C. Specificities
The poet-critic
- initiator and representative of the imagist movement (Des Imagistes,
1914)
- main points made in A Few Donts by an Imagiste (1913)
- language:
- What the expert is tired of today the public will be tired of
tomorrow.
- Dont imagine that the art of poetry is any simpler than the art of
music.
- Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the
decency to acknowledge the debt outright.
- Dont allow influence to mean merely that you mop up the
particular decorative vocabulary of some one or two poets whom
you happen to admire.
- Use no ornament or good ornament.
- rhythm and rhyme:
- Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can
discover, preferably in a foreign language so that the meaning of
the words may be less likely to divert his attention from the
movement.
- Let the neophyte know assonance and alliteration, rhyme
immediate and delayed, simple and polyphonic, as a musician
would expect to know harmony and counter-point and all the
minutiae of his craft.
- Dont imagine that a thing will go in verse just because its too dull
to go in prose.
- Dont be descriptive; a painter can describe a landscape much
better than you can.
- Consider the way of the scientists rather than the way of an
advertising agent for a new soap.
- That part of your poetry which strikes upon the imaginative eye of
the reader will lose nothing by translation into a foreign tongue; that
which appeals to the ear can reach only those who take it in the
original.
- Dont mess up the perception of one sense by trying to define it in
terms of another. This is usually only the result of being too lazy to
find the exact word. To this clause there are possibly exceptions.
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
11
Heritage
- he was part of the modernist movement, supporting and collaborating
with James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, T. S. Eliot,
Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Ford Madox Ford etc;
- as a modernist, Pound reacted against the Victorian legacy of poetic
diction (as represented by Alfred Tennyson among others), which he
found to be pompous and propagandistic
Technicalities
- language:
- Use no superfluous word, no adjective, which does not reveal
something.
- Dont use such an expression as dim land of peace; it mixes an
abstraction with the concrete.
- Go in fear of abstractions.
- rhythm and rhyme:
- Dont chop your stuff into separate iambs. Dont make each line
stop dead at the end, and then begin every next line with a heave.
Let the beginning of the next line catch the rise of the rhythm wave,
unless you want a definite longish pause.
- Naturally, your rhythmic structure should not destroy the shape of
your words, or their natural sound, or their meaning.
TEXTS IN FOCUS
Read the texts below and underline: the power and impact of the
visual component; the inner symbolism of the image constructed by Pound in
language.
L'Art, 1910
Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.
Paganis, November 8
Suddenly discovering in the eyes of the very beautiful
Normande cocotte
The eyes of the very learned British Museum assistant.
12
13
C. Specificities
The poet
- felt the need for a system, since he saw the work of the writer as
multiple and fragmentary
- sees poems as lighting up one another, referring to one integral
whole (the poet himself)
- it is the poet who should possess an arrangement of beliefs promoting
a sense of unity
- the poets task is to establish some sort of integrity through fiction or
imagination, for an otherwise chaotic world
- art is superior, in this respect, to science, religion or philosophy
- universal humanity is represented by the stored images of the
unconscious, evoked by symbolism in writing
- an adept of the symbolism of Blake and Shelley and of the occult
traditions which seek a unitary explanation for the world and the soul
Philosophy
- some of the systems he grew interested in:
- the system of the Theosophical Society (which he joined in 1877),
inspired from Indian philosophy: reincarnation and cyclical lives
- the system of the Cabbalist McGregor Mathers and of the Society of
Hermetic Students of the Order of the Golden Dawn, seeking access,
through symbol, into a place he calls THERE, where everything falls
back into place
- Yeatss system of beliefs
- necessary in view of avoiding multiplicity in personality
- emphasises his understanding of the character of his times as
apocalyptic
- serves to underline the role of the artist/poet as creator of a single
intelligible world, where reality and justice come together as one
- allows him to continually make and remake his poetry: old writings are
integrated into patterns later established
* the Cabbala - a set of esoteric teachings which aim at explaining the
relationship between an eternal and mysterious Creator and the mortal
and finite universe (His creation).
14
- political
- doctrinal
Symbols
- the bird universal spiritual elevation; man in search of knowledge
- the tree emanation of that which is above and which, through
various letter and number relationships can be combined into an
infinite series of designs (archetypal man)
- the rose Ireland (Rose, a girl with black hair); the cross (the fourleafed rose); beauty (Maud Gonne)
- the tower and the winding stair correspondence between the ideal
and the physical world; channel of communication between the world
above and the world below; life
Occultism
- the Mask secret selves; a means of escape, retreat
- the Gyres opposite features; man as both subjective and objective
- the Great Wheel 28 phases of the moon; 28 basic types of
personality (each with an opposing mask); universal unity (brings
everything together in the centre: there)
TEXTS IN FOCUS
Read the poems below and point out the characteristics of Yeatsean
poetic discourse, keeping in mind the broader philosophical ideas forwarded
by the poet.
15
16
B. Works:
Poetry
- Prufrock and Other Observations (1917)
- Poems (1919)
- The Waste Land (1922)
- Poems, 1909-1925 (1925)
- Ash Wednesday (1930)
- East Coker (1940)
- Burnt Norton (1941)
- The Dry Salvages (1941)
- Four Quartets (1943)
- The Complete Poems and Plays (1952)
- Collected Poems (1962)
Drama
- Sweeney Agonistes (1932)
- The Rock (1934)
- Murder in the Cathedral (1935)
- The Family Reunion (1939)
- The Cocktail Party (1950)
- The Confidential Clerk (1953)
- The Elder Statesman (1958)
Criticism
- The Sacred Wood (1920)
- Andrew Marvell (1922)
- For Lancelot Andrews (1928)
- Dante (1929)
- Tradition and Experimentation in Present-Day Literature (1929)
- Thoughts After Lambeth (1931)
- John Dryden (1932)
- After Strange Gods (1933)
- The Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism (1933)
- Elizabethan Essays (1934)
- Essays Ancient and Modern (1936)
- The Idea of a Christian Society (1940)
- The Classics and The Man of Letters (1942)
- Notes Towards the Definition of Culture (1949)
- Poetry and Drama (1951)
- Religious Drama: Mediaeval and Modern (1954)
- The Three Voices of Poetry (1954)
C. Specificities
The poet-critic
- A conscious poet, speculating on the nature and function of poetry;
- Distinguishes between:
- structure (the positive, rational will)
- texture (produced by negative imagination)
- Deliberately builds structure and allows talent and spontaneity to
stamp texture;
- Aware of the relationship of the present with the past and of the poet
with his precursors defines poetic outlook and sensitivity;
17
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the poem below and identify the specific features of Eliots
diction and style, also emphasising the modernist philosophy converging on
the subjectivity of time.
18
19
20
21
22
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the text below, concentrating on: the main theme(s); the poems
central dichotomies; the images of the zoo and their cultural implications.
The Jaguar
The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.
The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut
Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.
Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion
Lie still as the sun. The boa-constrictors coil
Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or
Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.
It might be painted on a nursery wall.
But who runs like the rest past these arrives
At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,
As a child at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged
Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes
On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom
The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,
By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear
He spins from the bars, but theres no cage to him
More than to the visionary his cell:
His stride is wildernesses of freedom:
The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel.
Over the cage floor the horizons come.
23
24
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the texts below and underline: the personal/cultural/historical
dimension; the intertext holding the poem together; the language games
played.
Lady Lazarus
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it ----A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? ----The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot ----The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies
These are my hands,
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
25
26
27
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the text below in view of emphasising: the myth(s)
deconstructed; the feminist/anti-feminist positions expressed; the ironic tone
employed.
Being Boring
If you ask me Whats new?, I have nothing to say
Except that the garden is growing.
I had a slight cold but its better today.
Im content with the way things are going.
Yes, he is the same as he usually is,
Still eating and sleeping and snoring.
I get on with my work. He gets on with his.
I know this is all very boring.
There was drama enough in my turbulent past:
Tears and passion Ive used up a tankful.
No news is good news, and long may it last,
If nothing much happens, Im thankful.
A happier cabbage you never did see,
My vegetable spirits are soaring.
If youre after excitement, steer well clear of me.
I want to go on being boring.
I dont go to parties. Well, what are they for,
If you dont need to find a new lover?
You drink and you listen and drink a bit more
And you take the next day to recover.
Someone to stay home with was all my desire
And, now that Ive found a safe mooring,
Ive just one ambition in life: I aspire
To go on and on being boring.
28
B. Works:
selected poetry collections:
- Side Effects (1978)
- Standing to (1982)
- Voices off (1984)
- Selected Poems (1986)
- A watching brief (1987)
- Neck-verse (1992)
- Safe as House (1995)
- Consequences (2000)
- Christmas Poems (2002)
- Queuing for the Sun (2003)
- Collected Poems (2004)
C. Specificities:
Overview:
- a typically English poet
- celebrates the peaceful countryside scenery, the age old customs and
institutions
- adopts a feminine stance
Main themes:
- the cycle of life and death
- power and powerlessness
- necessary statements against patriarchy
Technicalities:
- symbolism
- antithesis
- clear perception, active intervention
- sharp, critical eye
- elegant syntax
- subtle thought
- a weary female voice
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the text below and comment on: the personae, the voices, the
perspectives, the atemporality, the embedded criticism of the poem.
Mother Scrubbing the Floor
She had a dancers feet, elegant, witty.
We had our fathers, maverick spreaders of dirt.
Dirt from London, dirt from Kent.
Mud, dust, grass, droppings, wetness, things,
Dirt barefaced, dirt stinking, dirt invisible.
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
29
TEXT IN FOCUS
Read the texts below, bringing forth: the myths revisited, the concept
of the double, the reality/fiction borderline, the deliberate ambiguity, the
symbols and imagery of the poem.
Warming Her Pearls
Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress
bids me wear them, warm them, until evening
when Ill brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,
resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk
or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself
whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering
each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.
Shes beautiful. I dream about her
in my attic bed; picture her dancing
with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent
beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.
I dust her shoulders with a rabbits foot,
watch the soft blush seep through her skin
like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass
my red lips part as though I want to speak.
Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see
her every movement in my head Undressing
taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching
for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way
she always does And I lie here awake,
knowing the pearls are cooling even now
in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night
I feel their absence and I burn.
31
32
TEXT IN FOCUS
Watch the two parts of Words on Film (to be accessed at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7spYcNnLvU), observing the genre
crossings, the social and cultural messages, the dense symbolism and
intertextuality.
33
34
35
36
37
38
Notes:
[1] see Peter Porter, Public and Private in Contemporary British Poetry, in
New Writing 5, 1996
[2] Peter Porter, op. cit.: 280
[3] Marion Wynne-Davies, Bloomsbury Guide to English Literature, 1989: 96
39
40
41
42
43
44
Notes:
[1] The term intermedial is used here to designate border crossings between
different media, in close connection to Bakhtins dialogism and Kristevas
intertextuality. Also used in approaching the text are the three subcategories
of intermediality, as advanced by Irina Rajewsky in her Intermediality,
Intertextuality and Remediation: A Literary Perspective on Intermediality:
medial transposition (the transformation of a given media product or of its
substratum into another medium); media combination (film, theatre
performance etc or mixed media); intermedial reference (references to
painting in film, to photography in painting etc).
45
REFERENCES
References
Armitage, S. (1992). Xanadu. A Poem Film for Television, Newcastle upon
Tyne: Bloodaxe Books
Bradbury, M.; J. McFarlane (eds), (1976). Modernism, Harmondsworth:
Penguin Books
Brooker, P. (ed), (1992). Modernism/Postmodernism, London and New York:
Longman
Fischer, T.; L. Norfolk (eds), (1999). New Writing 8. An Anthology, London:
Vintage
Hassan, I. (1987). The Postmodern Turn, Essays in Postmodern Theory and
Culture, USA: Ohio State University Press
Hope, C.; P. Porter (eds), (1996). New Writing 5, London: Vintage Books
Jones, P. (ed), (1972). Imagist Poetry, London: Penguin
Jones, P.; M. Schmidt (eds), (1980). British Poetry since 1970 A Critical
Survey, Manchester: Carcanet Press
Martin, G.; P.N. Furbank (eds), (1975). Twentieth Century Poetry Critical
Essays and Documents, England: The Open University Press
Morrison, B., (1980). English Poetry and Fiction of the 1950s, Methuen,
London,
Rajewsky, I. (2005). Intermediality, Intertextuality and Remediation: A
Literary Perspective on Intermediality, in Intermdialits, No. 6, Automne,
2005
Thompson, N. S. (ed), (1998). Atlanta Review, Spring/Summer 1998, USA:
Poetry Atlanta
Wimsatt, W. K. (1965), What to say about a poem, in Twentieth Century
Poetry (1975), ed. by G. Martin and P. N. Furbank, England: The Open
University Press, pp. 4-6
Wynne-Davies, M. (ed), (1989). Bloomsbury Guide to English Literature,
London: Bloomsbury Publishing House
Sites:
Words on Film, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7spYcNnLvU
accessed: 1.02.2012)
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
(last
46
APPENDICES
Appendices
OTHER IMAGIST WRITING
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS (1983-1963)
Autumn
A stand of people
by an open
grave underneath
the heavy leaves
celebrates
the cut and fill
for the new road
where
an old man
on his knees
reaps a basketful of
matted grasses for
his goats
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
ON MODERNISM
47
APPENDICES
D. H. LAWRENCE (1885-1930)
Green
The dawn was apple-green,
The sky was green wine held up in the sun,
The moon was a golden petal between.
She opened her eyes, and green
They shone, clear like flowers undone
For the first time, now for the first time seen.
Piano
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she
sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
48
APPENDICES
Thomas Stearns Eliot - with his emphasising that writers must have a
certain historical sense, a sense of the tradition of writing in which they
must find a place, and his pointing to the necessary depersonalisation of
the artist from his/her art for it to become impersonal and approach the
condition of science (see Tradition and the Individual Talent, first
published in 1919)
A profound, almost reverential regard for the literary works themselves
is what holds the Anglo-American tradition in criticism together. Literature is
idealised from an aesthetico-humanist point of view and literariness
becomes the key term in judging texts, especially those considered to be
worth including in the canon. But if the canon was initially described as
artificial (exclusive and hierarchical) and natural at the same time (not
created by critical discrimination of any kind), it nevertheless carried the
danger of becoming elitist and imposed; that is why, in the 1960s critical
revolution, it was to be demystified so as to include the writing that had
previously not found a place within it (i.e. popular and gothic fiction, working
class and womens writing etc).
The modernist type of criticism that emerged immediately after the
First World War in Britain was mostly due to English becoming a central
subject in universities and academics willing to transcend the older belletrist
critical tradition and to adopt a new position towards the literary scene. The
phenomenon was especially strong at Cambridge, but other centres soon
joined in.
BRITISH REPRESENTATIVES:
A. Richards who argued that criticism should adopt the precision of
science and attempted to lay down an explicit theoretical basis for literary
study. He articulated the special quality of literary language, differentiating
the emotive language of poetry from the referential one of non-literary
discourse. (see Principles of Literary Criticism, 1924 and Practical Criticism,
1929)
ON MODERNISM
APPENDICES
literary texts from their contexts in the process of reading. (see Seven Types
of Ambiguity, 1930)
In the United States, the new criticism found a fertile soil because of
its ahistorical, neutral nature and its inviting the reader/critic to look only at
the words on the page (an apparently equalising, democratic activity,
appropriate to the new American experience after the war). For the
Americans, what counted above everything else was the text itself, its
language and organisation; the historical, biographical, intellectual context
and the fallacies of intention or affect were initially left aside.
AMERICAN REPRESENTATIVES:
John Crowe Ransom who wanted students to study literature, not
about literature and, considering poetry, said that the critic ought to exhibit
the residue or tissue which keeps the object poetical or entire, not the prose
core to which a poem might be reduced. (see The New Criticism, 1941)
Mark Schorer who applied New Critical methods to prose fiction and
saw that the difference between content or experience and achieved content
lies in technique. He extended his analysis of the language of fiction by
revealing the unconscious patterns of imagery and symbolism (beyond the
authors intention) present in all forms of fiction and not just those which are
characterised by poetic discourse (see Technique as Discovery, 1948 and
Fiction and the Analogical Matrix, 1949)
50
APPENDICES
implied author) and an unreliable one (often a character at the level of the
story), enhancing the formal equipment available for the analysis of the
rhetoric of fiction (see The Rhetoric of Fiction, 1961)
51
APPENDICES
and novelty is better than repetition. Tradition is a matter of much wider
significance. It cannot be inherited, and if you want it you must obtain it by
great labour. It involves, in the first place, the historical sense, which we may
call nearly indispensable to anyone who would continue to be a poet beyond
his twenty-fifth year; and the historical sense involves a perception, not only
of the pastness of the past, but of its presence; the historical sense compels
a man to write not merely with his own generation in his bones, but with a
feeling that the whole of the literature of Europe from Homer and within it the
whole of the literature of his own country has a simultaneous existence and
composes a simultaneous order. This historical sense, which is a sense of
the timeless as well as of the temporal and of the timeless and of the
temporal together, is what makes a writer traditional. And it is at the same
time what makes a writer most acutely conscious of his place in time, of his
contemporaneity.
No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His
significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead
poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast
and comparison, among the dead. I mean this as a principle of sthetic, not
merely historical, criticism. The necessity that he shall conform, that he shall
cohere, is not one-sided; what happens when a new work of art is created is
something that happens simultaneously to all the works of art which
preceded it. The existing monuments form an ideal order among themselves,
which is modified by the introduction of the new (the really new) work of art
among them. The existing order is complete before the new work arrives; for
order to persist after the supervention of novelty, the whole existing order
must be, if ever so slightly, altered; and so the relations, proportions, values
of each work of art toward the whole are readjusted; and this is conformity
between the old and the new. Whoever has approved this idea of order, of
the form of European, of English literature, will not find it preposterous that
the past should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed
by the past. And the poet who is aware of this will be aware of great
difficulties and responsibilities.
In a peculiar sense he will be aware also that he must inevitably be
judged by the standards of the past. I say judged, not amputated, by them;
not judged to be as good as, or worse or better than, the dead; and certainly
not judged by the canons of dead critics. It is a judgment, a comparison, in
which two things are measured by each other. To conform merely would be
for the new work not really to conform at all; it would not be new, and would
therefore not be a work of art. And we do not quite say that the new is more
valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value a test, it is
true, which can only be slowly and cautiously applied, for we are none of us
infallible judges of conformity. We say: it appears to conform, and is perhaps
individual, or it appears individual, and may conform; but we are hardly likely
to find that it is one and not the other.
To proceed to a more intelligible exposition of the relation of the poet
to the past: he can neither take the past as a lump, an indiscriminate bolus,
nor can he form himself wholly on one or two private admirations, nor can he
form himself wholly upon one preferred period. The first course is
inadmissible, the second is an important experience of youth, and the third is
a pleasant and highly desirable supplement. The poet must be very
conscious of the main current,
which does
ON MODERNISM
not at all flow invariably through the most
distinguished reputations. He must be quite aware of the obvious fact that art
TWENTIETH CENTURY ENGLISH POETRY
52
APPENDICES
never improves, but that the material of art is never quite the same. He must
be aware that the mind of Europe the mind of his own country a mind
which he learns in time to be much more important than his own private mind
is a mind which changes, and that this change is a development which
abandons nothing en route, which does not superannuate either
Shakespeare, or Homer, or the rock drawing of the Magdalenian
draughtsmen. That this development, refinement perhaps, complication
certainly, is not, from the point of view of the artist, any improvement.
Perhaps not even an improvement from the point of view of the psychologist
or not to the extent which we imagine; perhaps only in the end based upon a
complication in economics and machinery. But the difference between the
present and the past is that the conscious present is an awareness of the
past in a way and to an extent which the past's awareness of itself cannot
show.
Someone said: "The dead writers are remote from us because we
know so much more than they did." Precisely, and they are that which we
know.
I am alive to a usual objection to what is clearly part of my programme
for the mtier of poetry. The objection is that the doctrine requires a
ridiculous amount of erudition (pedantry), a claim which can be rejected by
appeal to the lives of poets in any pantheon. It will even be affirmed that
much learning deadens or perverts poetic sensibility. While, however, we
persist in believing that a poet ought to know as much as will not encroach
upon his necessary receptivity and necessary laziness, it is not desirable to
confine knowledge to whatever can be put into a useful shape for
examinations, drawing-rooms, or the still more pretentious modes of publicity.
Some can absorb knowledge, the more tardy must sweat for it. Shakespeare
acquired more essential history from Plutarch than most men could from the
whole British Museum. What is to be insisted upon is that the poet must
develop or procure the consciousness of the past and that he should
continue to develop this consciousness throughout his career.
What happens is a continual surrender of himself as he is at the
moment to something which is more valuable. The progress of an artist is a
continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.
There remains to define this process of depersonalization and its
relation to the sense of tradition. It is in this depersonalization that art may be
said to approach the condition of science. I shall, therefore, invite you to
consider, as a suggestive analogy, the action which takes place when a bit of
finely filiated platinum is introduced into a chamber containing oxygen and
sulphur dioxide.
Honest criticism and sensitive appreciation is directed not upon the
poet but upon the poetry. If we attend to the confused cries of the newspaper
critics and the susurrus of popular repetition that follows, we shall hear the
names of poets in great numbers; if we seek not Blue-book knowledge but
the enjoyment of poetry, and ask for a poem, we shall seldom find it. In the
last article I tried to point out the importance of the relation of the poem to
other poems by other authors, and suggested the conception of poetry as a
living whole of all the poetry that has ever been written. The other aspect of
this Impersonal theory of poetry is the relation of the poem to its author. And I
hinted, by an analogy, that the mind of the mature
poet differs
ON MODERNISM
from that of the immature one not precisely in any valuation of
"personality," not being necessarily more interesting, or having "more to say,"
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APPENDICES
but rather by being a more finely perfected medium in which special, or very
varied, feelings are at liberty to enter into new combinations.
The analogy was that of the catalyst. When the two gases previously
mentioned are mixed in the presence of a filament of platinum, they form
sulphurous acid. This combination takes place only if the platinum is present;
nevertheless the newly formed acid contains no trace of platinum, and the
platinum itself is apparently unaffected; has remained inert, neutral, and
unchanged. The mind of the poet is the shred of platinum. It may partly or
exclusively operate upon the experience of the man himself; but, the more
perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who
suffers and the mind which creates; the more perfectly will the mind digest
and transmute the passions which are its material.
The experience, you will notice, the elements which enter the
presence of the transforming catalyst, are of two kinds: emotions and feelings.
The effect of a work of art upon the person who enjoys it is an experience
different in kind from any experience not of art. It may be formed out of one
emotion, or may be a combination of several; and various feelings, inhering
for the writer in particular words or phrases or images, may be added to
compose the final result. Or great poetry may be made without the direct use
of any emotion whatever: composed out of feelings solely. Canto XV of the
Inferno (Brunetto Latini) is a working up of the emotion evident in the
situation; but the effect, though single as that of any work of art, is obtained
by considerable complexity of detail. The last quatrain gives an image, a
feeling attaching to an image, which "came," which did not develop simply
out of what precedes, but which was probably in suspension in the poet's
mind until the proper combination arrived for it to add itself to. The poet's
mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings,
phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to
form a new compound are present together.
If you compare several representative passages of the greatest poetry
you see how great is the variety of types of combination, and also how
completely any semi-ethical criterion of "sublimity" misses the mark. For it is
not the "greatness," the intensity, of the emotions, the components, but the
intensity of the artistic process, the pressure, so to speak, under which the
fusion takes place, that counts. The episode of Paolo and Francesca
employs a definite emotion, but the intensity of the poetry is something quite
different from whatever intensity in the supposed experience it may give the
impression of. It is no more intense, furthermore, than Canto XXVI, the
voyage of Ulysses, which has not the direct dependence upon an emotion.
Great variety is possible in the process of transmution of emotion: the murder
of Agamemnon, or the agony of Othello, gives an artistic effect apparently
closer to a possible original than the scenes from Dante. In the Agamemnon,
the artistic emotion approximates to the emotion of an actual spectator; in
Othello to the emotion of the protagonist himself. But the difference between
art and the event is always absolute; the combination which is the murder of
Agamemnon is probably as complex as that which is the voyage of Ulysses.
In either case there has been a fusion of elements. The ode of Keats
contains a number of feelings which have nothing particular to do with the
nightingale, but which the nightingale, partly, perhaps, because of its
attractive name, and partly because of its reputation, served to bring together.
The point of view which
am struggling
ON IMODERNISM
to attack is perhaps related to the
metaphysical theory of the substantial unity of the soul: for my meaning is,
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that the poet has, not a "personality" to express, but a particular medium,
which is only a medium and not a personality, in which impressions and
experiences combine in peculiar and unexpected ways. Impressions and
experiences which are important for the man may take no place in the poetry,
and those which become important in the poetry may play quite a negligible
part in the man, the personality.
I will quote a passage which is unfamiliar enough to be regarded with
fresh attention in the light or darkness of these observations:
And now methinks I could een chide myself
For doating on her beauty, though her death
Shall be revenged after no common action.
Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours
For thee? For thee does she undo herself?
Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships
For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute?
Why does yon fellow falsify highways,
And put his life between the judges lips,
To refine such a thingkeeps horse and men
To beat their valours for her?
In this passage (as is evident if it is taken in its context) there is a
combination of positive and negative emotions: an intensely strong attraction
toward beauty and an equally intense fascination by the ugliness which is
contrasted with it and which destroys it. This balance of contrasted emotion is
in the dramatic situation to which the speech is pertinent, but that situation
alone is inadequate to it. This is, so to speak, the structural emotion, provided
by the drama. But the whole effect, the dominant tone, is due to the fact that
a number of floating feelings, having an affinity to this emotion by no means
superficially evident, have combined with it to give us a new art emotion.
It is not in his personal emotions, the emotions provoked by particular
events in his life, that the poet is in any way remarkable or interesting. His
particular emotions may be simple, or crude, or flat. The emotion in his poetry
will be a very complex thing, but not with the complexity of the emotions of
people who have very complex or unusual emotions in life. One error, in fact,
of eccentricity in poetry is to seek for new human emotions to express; and in
this search for novelty in the wrong place it discovers the perverse. The
business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones
and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in
actual emotions at all. And emotions which he has never experienced will
serve his turn as well as those familiar to him. Consequently, we must
believe that "emotion recollected in tranquillity" is an inexact formula. For it is
neither emotion, nor recollection, nor, without distortion of meaning,
tranquillity. It is a concentration, and a new thing resulting from the
concentration, of a very great number of experiences which to the practical
and active person would not seem to be experiences at all; it is a
concentration which does not happen consciously or of deliberation. These
experiences are not "recollected," and they finally unite in an atmosphere
which is "tranquil" only in that it is a passive attending upon the event. Of
course this is not quite the whole story. There is a great deal, in the writing of
poetry, which must be conscious and deliberate.
fact, the bad
ON In
MODERNISM
poet is usually unconscious where he ought to be conscious,
and conscious where he ought to be unconscious. Both errors tend to make
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APPENDICES
him "personal." Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from
emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from
personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions
know what it means to want to escape from these things.
This essay proposes to halt at the frontier of metaphysics or mysticism,
and confine itself to such practical conclusions as can be applied by the
responsible person interested in poetry. To divert interest from the poet to the
poetry is a laudable aim: for it would conduce to a juster estimation of actual
poetry, good and bad. There are many people who appreciate the expression
of sincere emotion in verse, and there is a smaller number of people who can
appreciate technical excellence. But very few know when there is expression
of significant emotion, emotion which has its life in the poem and not in the
history of the poet. The emotion of art is impersonal. And the poet cannot
reach this impersonality without surrendering himself wholly to the work to be
done. And he is not likely to know what is to be done unless he lives in what
is not merely the present, but the present moment of the past, unless he is
conscious, not of what is dead, but of what is already living.
ON MODERNISM
56