When we studied John Keats's poem "Ode to a Nightingale" in class last week, we also touched briefly on his method of composition and the issue of whether or not that was a Romantic-era construction or more factual in nature. Specifically, Keats's friend Charles Armitage Brown stated that after Keats had spent time sitting under a plum tree in the grass-plot and listening to the nightingale's song while composing his poem, that he'd come inside and thrust the scattered pieces of paper he'd used to jot down the poem behind some books in Brown's library. Brown then takes credit for recovering those pieces of paper with the ode written upon them and urging Keats to write them down properly and publish them. However, it was a known convention of Romantic writers to provide some sort of preface, mostly fictional, that lent more poetic impact to the following poem.
For example, when Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote "Kubla Khan" he included a preface entitled "A Vision in a Dream" in which Coleridge asserted that he'd been in ill health and had fallen into a sleep colored by the opium his doctor had prescribed, during which he composed two or three hundred lines of the poem with no conscious effort. While Coleridge was indeed an opium addict and that substance has the effect of hallucinatory dreams, it is unlikely that he composed an entire poem during an opium dream and then could only recall part of it upon waking. It's not impossible, of course, but when you consider that Coleridge's statement of dream composition has the effect of manipulating the situation of author and reader, namely through promoting a more active role of the audience of filling in the supposed gaps of the story, it becomes possible to examine Coleridge's veracity. His intriguing preface makes poets seem like divine channels for the Muses, keeps the reader(s) actively engaged in creating additions to the poem within negative space, and also provides an all-encompassing excuse for any areas in which the poem may fall short. Now, the question is whether or not Charles Brown's statement about Keats's method accomplishes something similar and can be thus considered as not entirely factual.
The idea that Keats just jotted "Ode to a Nightingale" down idly on four or five sheets of paper which he then carelessly shoved behind some books does seem to highlight the divine genius of the poet as it implies that such a wonderful and complex poem was nearly an afterthought for Keats. The average reader would of course be amazed by Keats's poetic powers when considering that he could jot down profound poems as effortlessly as they themselves would a list for the market. Therefore, this act does have the same effect as Coleridge's preface when it comes to exalting the poet above the rest of mankind. However, it must be considered that Keats, unlike Coleridge, did not fabricate this preface to his poem and have it disseminated along with his ode. Brown seems to have been the primary agent in that process, and though the story was circulated informally following the poem's publication it is still a very prevalent view of Keats's creative process.
The next thing to consider is whether or not the story of Keats's rather offhand treatment of the text of the poem accomplishes anything besides exaltation of poetic genius. Coleridge's account of the inspiration behind "Kubla Khan" definitively results in a sort of mediation between the poet and his audience, which of course results in a more favorable reception of the poem. The story of Keats's inspiration from nature which he jotted down and then stashed does not manipulate the audience of the poem in any way; it merely directs focus to his genius in coming up with such a deft and complex poem as well as illustrating that such commonplace treatment of the text must come from his ability to produce such creative works on a regular basis. Therefore, when added to the fact that it was Brown and not Keats who spread the story of the ode's composition, it can be said that though the story may be less than factual and aimed at deifying the poet it is not as alarmingly manipulative as that of Coleridge.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Bonus: Explication of Keats's "To one who has been long in city pent"
"To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven, -- to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Returning home at evening, with an ear
Catching the notes of Philomel, -- an eye
Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
That falls through the clear ether silently."
- John Keats
John Keats's poem "To one who has been long in city pent" is a sonnet in which the speaker, in this case the poet himself, extols the virtues of nature over those of the city. The speaker finds a worshipful kind of peace when he is able to escape to the country and reaffirm the joys of existence in a natural setting. The audience the speaker intends seems to be anyone who is receptive to the influence of nature upon human sensibilities, and who would thus be sympathetic to both his feeling of confinement in the city and his exultation in a natural setting. In order to communicate that message of affinity for nature to his intended audience, the poet used a number of specific strategies throughout the body of the poem.
The poem as a whole is in the form of a Petrarchan sonnet, in which the rhyme scheme is as follows: abbaabba for the first eight lines, and cdcdcd for the last six. This specific rhyme scheme is accompanied by the use of iambic pentameter throughout the poem's entirety, excepting the third line which contains eleven syllables. This line marks a shift in the poem's theme as it moves from purely secular descriptions of being in "city pent" and finding joy in looking at nature to such religious references as heaven and prayer. Indeed, it is the two syllables of the word "prayer" which end the third line and push the syllable count to eleven; this leads the reader to especially note the speaker's worshipful tone while out in nature.
As the speaker continues to enlarge upon nature's virtues in such lines as the fifth and sixth in which he questions "who is more happy, when, with hearts content, fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair," he also utilizes alternation between end-stopped and enjambed lines to highlight the lines which bring with them a sense of completion and peace. For example, the seventh line continues the above description of the "pleasant lair" as grassy and introduces a "debonair tale" with an enjambed line, while the eighth completes the four-line question (from line five to line eight) with a specific description of the book. This technique lends the poem a balance in which the reader tranquilly follows the progression of the speaker's mind toward peace as he relates the pleasures of the natural world.
The language of the poem also lends itself to a balanced tone as it consists of both simple and elevated diction. For example, the only word which stands out as particularly elevated in the first four lines is the reference to the "firmanent" in the fourth, which is in place mostly to ground the comparison of nature with a place of worship. Later, the speaker describes the tale as "debonair" and makes an elevated reference to "Philomel," or the nightingale from Ovid's Metamorphoses, but those are the only notable uses of exalted or exclusive language. Overall, the poet's mixture of common and elevated words strikes the perfect balance of approachability and exclusivity which is likely to appeal to the widest ranging audience.
The balanced word choice is offset by the deft use of metaphor and personification which lends itself to the peaceful flow of the poem from start to finish. For example, in the first four lines heaven is personified as having a "fair and open face" and a "smile" as well; this figure of speech is followed very fluidly by the simile in the last three lines comparing the quickness of the day to "the passage of an angel's tear." This very fluidity results from the poet's adherence to the overall theme of comparing nature to religious concepts; thus, the different figures of speech are not jarring in their presentation but flow smoothly from the concept of heaven to the related description of the angel. This results in a cohesive poem whose deft use of figurative language borders on the utilization of an extended metaphor throughout the whole text.
Overall, all of the above referenced strategies result in a poem whose message as to the peaceful joys to be found in nature is supported by a structure with just the sort of balance and serenity that the theme espouses. The speaker's journey from confinement in the city, to contentment in the meadows, and finally to nostalgia in the wake of a beautiful day is echoed by every poetic device and resounds all the more fully as a result.
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven, -- to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Returning home at evening, with an ear
Catching the notes of Philomel, -- an eye
Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
That falls through the clear ether silently."
- John Keats
John Keats's poem "To one who has been long in city pent" is a sonnet in which the speaker, in this case the poet himself, extols the virtues of nature over those of the city. The speaker finds a worshipful kind of peace when he is able to escape to the country and reaffirm the joys of existence in a natural setting. The audience the speaker intends seems to be anyone who is receptive to the influence of nature upon human sensibilities, and who would thus be sympathetic to both his feeling of confinement in the city and his exultation in a natural setting. In order to communicate that message of affinity for nature to his intended audience, the poet used a number of specific strategies throughout the body of the poem.
The poem as a whole is in the form of a Petrarchan sonnet, in which the rhyme scheme is as follows: abbaabba for the first eight lines, and cdcdcd for the last six. This specific rhyme scheme is accompanied by the use of iambic pentameter throughout the poem's entirety, excepting the third line which contains eleven syllables. This line marks a shift in the poem's theme as it moves from purely secular descriptions of being in "city pent" and finding joy in looking at nature to such religious references as heaven and prayer. Indeed, it is the two syllables of the word "prayer" which end the third line and push the syllable count to eleven; this leads the reader to especially note the speaker's worshipful tone while out in nature.
As the speaker continues to enlarge upon nature's virtues in such lines as the fifth and sixth in which he questions "who is more happy, when, with hearts content, fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair," he also utilizes alternation between end-stopped and enjambed lines to highlight the lines which bring with them a sense of completion and peace. For example, the seventh line continues the above description of the "pleasant lair" as grassy and introduces a "debonair tale" with an enjambed line, while the eighth completes the four-line question (from line five to line eight) with a specific description of the book. This technique lends the poem a balance in which the reader tranquilly follows the progression of the speaker's mind toward peace as he relates the pleasures of the natural world.
The language of the poem also lends itself to a balanced tone as it consists of both simple and elevated diction. For example, the only word which stands out as particularly elevated in the first four lines is the reference to the "firmanent" in the fourth, which is in place mostly to ground the comparison of nature with a place of worship. Later, the speaker describes the tale as "debonair" and makes an elevated reference to "Philomel," or the nightingale from Ovid's Metamorphoses, but those are the only notable uses of exalted or exclusive language. Overall, the poet's mixture of common and elevated words strikes the perfect balance of approachability and exclusivity which is likely to appeal to the widest ranging audience.
The balanced word choice is offset by the deft use of metaphor and personification which lends itself to the peaceful flow of the poem from start to finish. For example, in the first four lines heaven is personified as having a "fair and open face" and a "smile" as well; this figure of speech is followed very fluidly by the simile in the last three lines comparing the quickness of the day to "the passage of an angel's tear." This very fluidity results from the poet's adherence to the overall theme of comparing nature to religious concepts; thus, the different figures of speech are not jarring in their presentation but flow smoothly from the concept of heaven to the related description of the angel. This results in a cohesive poem whose deft use of figurative language borders on the utilization of an extended metaphor throughout the whole text.
Overall, all of the above referenced strategies result in a poem whose message as to the peaceful joys to be found in nature is supported by a structure with just the sort of balance and serenity that the theme espouses. The speaker's journey from confinement in the city, to contentment in the meadows, and finally to nostalgia in the wake of a beautiful day is echoed by every poetic device and resounds all the more fully as a result.
Coleridge's "Work Without Hope": A Caution to Potential Poets
Samuel Taylor Coleridge's sonnet entitled "Work Without Hope" seems, on the surface, merely to juxtapose nature with his own dejected state of writer's block. The parallel is very striking, as are his images of nature, to the point that it is easy to get caught up in his descriptive phrases and polarities of emotion and lose the significance of the final couplet. The last two lines state that "Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live" (Coleridge 614). A specific interpretation, in which the lines relate only to Coleridge as the speaker, applies the concept of fruitless hope without an object to Coleridge as he is "the sole unbusy thing" in the poem and thus doomed to wish for a poet's laurel wreath while self-doubt results in unproductiveness. However, a more universal interpretation allows for the inclusion of the penultimate line, and its inherent association with pointless labor, as the "nectar" remains uncollected. This universal interpretation, in turn, is aimed specifically at aspiring poets.
In this more universal sense, the nectar can be equated with poetic inspiration which remains elusive despite pointed effort; this is then inverted in the final line in which the inspiration is unfocused and thus just as ineffectual. The juxtaposition in this universal reading is between the classic "rock and a hard place" as both the uninspired labor and the unfocused yearning result in the same thing: absolutely nothing. As a result, the broader interpretation of the lines seems to be less about Coleridge than about the futility of attempting to achieve greatness as a poet. Even with the application of this less specific reading, however, there remains the question as to who Coleridge actually intended for his primary audience to be.
The most accessible interpretation, namely that of Coleridge lamenting about his own specific dilemma with futility in composition, allows for the inference of a sympathetic audience of fellow poets, acquaintances, and strangers who are all able to relate to Coleridge's feeling of helplessness in his chosen field. Using this lens, it is possible to picture Wordsworth listening to Coleridge read this piece and understanding exactly why he chose images of industrious creatures in nature to highlight his own inactivity and hopelessness. This interpretation definitely contains a lot of pathos, but it is not the only message that Coleridge intended to evoke with the final couplet.
Coleridge's intended audience for the deeper message contained within the final couplet is assuredly the population of aspiring poets. The first intimation of this appears in the line before the beginning of the final couplet: "And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?"(Coleridge 614). This is subtly hinting at those who would wish to learn to write poetry, as who else would want to "learn the spells" of Coleridge? The fact that Coleridge refers to his vocation and its inherent practices as "spells" hints at their power to bewitch their recipient until he or she falls into the drowsy stupor of helplessness which afflicts those who are unable to reconcile their high aims with true productivity.
The subtle intimation of a warning in the line preceding the final couplet is of course enhanced by the message in those final two lines: that of the impossibility of combining both inspiration and industry in order to produce a laurel-worthy poem. This message of futility is aimed at aspiring poets in order that they might more fully examine their motives in choosing that profession, and either rethink their choice or go into it with open eyes and the knowledge it takes to combat hopelessness. In this way, Coleridge serves as a beneficent mentor who uses his own wealth of experience to prepare others who would follow in his footsteps.
In this more universal sense, the nectar can be equated with poetic inspiration which remains elusive despite pointed effort; this is then inverted in the final line in which the inspiration is unfocused and thus just as ineffectual. The juxtaposition in this universal reading is between the classic "rock and a hard place" as both the uninspired labor and the unfocused yearning result in the same thing: absolutely nothing. As a result, the broader interpretation of the lines seems to be less about Coleridge than about the futility of attempting to achieve greatness as a poet. Even with the application of this less specific reading, however, there remains the question as to who Coleridge actually intended for his primary audience to be.
The most accessible interpretation, namely that of Coleridge lamenting about his own specific dilemma with futility in composition, allows for the inference of a sympathetic audience of fellow poets, acquaintances, and strangers who are all able to relate to Coleridge's feeling of helplessness in his chosen field. Using this lens, it is possible to picture Wordsworth listening to Coleridge read this piece and understanding exactly why he chose images of industrious creatures in nature to highlight his own inactivity and hopelessness. This interpretation definitely contains a lot of pathos, but it is not the only message that Coleridge intended to evoke with the final couplet.
Coleridge's intended audience for the deeper message contained within the final couplet is assuredly the population of aspiring poets. The first intimation of this appears in the line before the beginning of the final couplet: "And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?"(Coleridge 614). This is subtly hinting at those who would wish to learn to write poetry, as who else would want to "learn the spells" of Coleridge? The fact that Coleridge refers to his vocation and its inherent practices as "spells" hints at their power to bewitch their recipient until he or she falls into the drowsy stupor of helplessness which afflicts those who are unable to reconcile their high aims with true productivity.
The subtle intimation of a warning in the line preceding the final couplet is of course enhanced by the message in those final two lines: that of the impossibility of combining both inspiration and industry in order to produce a laurel-worthy poem. This message of futility is aimed at aspiring poets in order that they might more fully examine their motives in choosing that profession, and either rethink their choice or go into it with open eyes and the knowledge it takes to combat hopelessness. In this way, Coleridge serves as a beneficent mentor who uses his own wealth of experience to prepare others who would follow in his footsteps.
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