Hello Romanticists, and welcome to a new era.
We are still in the thick of British Romanticism, but having passed the midpoint of the semester, we now turn to a group often referred to as the second generation of Romantic poets. We will talk more in class on Tuesday about what separates our first poets (Smith, Yearsley, Robinson, Blake, the anonymous weaver poet, Wordsworth, and Coleridge) from our second group (Byron, Hemans, PB Shelley, Clare, and Keats), the primary distinction is this: the first generation lived in a time of revolution; the second generation were born into a world in which the ideals driving revolution had already been realized, and had already compromised, diluted, or perverted. Our second generation poets are thus still deeply desirous of social change, but their work has a distinctly different tone, one of caution, defensiveness, or bitterness.
We are still in the thick of British Romanticism, but having passed the midpoint of the semester, we now turn to a group often referred to as the second generation of Romantic poets. We will talk more in class on Tuesday about what separates our first poets (Smith, Yearsley, Robinson, Blake, the anonymous weaver poet, Wordsworth, and Coleridge) from our second group (Byron, Hemans, PB Shelley, Clare, and Keats), the primary distinction is this: the first generation lived in a time of revolution; the second generation were born into a world in which the ideals driving revolution had already been realized, and had already compromised, diluted, or perverted. Our second generation poets are thus still deeply desirous of social change, but their work has a distinctly different tone, one of caution, defensiveness, or bitterness.
Lord Byron will be our introduction to this new
generation. Pay close attention to
the biographical sketch in our anthology, first because it makes a rattling
good yarn, but secondly because Byron’s persona is inseparable from his poetry,
and in particular his greatest contribution to literature, the Byronic
hero. The greatest celebrity of
his day, Byron was notorious for his string of scandalous affairs, his reckless
racking up of debt, and his general tendency to defy moral or legal codes. He develops the same
persona in his poetry. The figure
is at once a lover and a misanthrope; achingly sincere and bitterly
cynical. He is a man of great
passions, but they are always already past, as some unnamed trauma has soured
him, turned him away from human society, and aged him before his time. If you are acquainted with Heathcliff or
Mr. Rochester, Eugene Onegin, the count of Monte Christo, Batman or Severus
Snape, then you know the type.
Byron first introduces his hero figure in the long,
semi-autobiographical poem, Childe
Harold’s Pilgrimage. The
publication of the first two cantos made Byron famous almost overnight. Four years later, as he was fleeing
scandal and debt in England, Byron wrote Canto III, the piece we’ll be
discussing on Tuesday. On the
syllabus I have listed the stanzas that you must
read, but please read more than that if you can.
The final reading for Tuesday is short: “Messalonghi, 22 January 1824. On this day I complete my thirty-sixth year” (1065). Note that he had sailed to the Greek city to fight in the Greek war of independence and that he died less than three months after writing the poem.
The final reading for Tuesday is short: “Messalonghi, 22 January 1824. On this day I complete my thirty-sixth year” (1065). Note that he had sailed to the Greek city to fight in the Greek war of independence and that he died less than three months after writing the poem.
Post your responses by noon on Monday.
Happy reading,
Prof. M.
Happy reading,
Prof. M.
P.S.: As befits a celebrity, Byron's death was mythologized in a flurry of artworks, including the following death-bed portrait by the Neo-Classical painter Joseph Denis Odevaere.
As soon as I read this poem, I knew Ogden Nash would have something similar to say about having a mid-life crisis. Here is "Lines On Facing Forty":
ReplyDelete"I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie,
Do you think my mind is maturing late,
Or simply rotted early?"
This is exactly what Byron is trying to say, but the convoluted language of the Romantics is getting in his way.
Byron specifically calls his poem "On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year" and Nash also refers to his own age at the time he writes--only a little past thirty-six.
Byron says his "days are in the yellow leaf," thinking he has reached the autumn of his life, middle age (not knowing he has actually reached the end of his life). All the "flowers and fruits" of his youth, the products of his youth, are gone. The feelings of passion from his youth are gone. Instead, there is rot--"the worm, the canker." Nash also refers to this internal "rotting." For Nash, the rot, the loss, happens in his mind. He fears he is going insane. Byron loses his passion in his heart instead. This shows a fundamental difference between them: Byron never used his mind in the first place; he was always guided by his heart. Everything he did was with passion, true, but it was neither wise nor thought-out.
Byron asks, "If thou regret'st thy youth, why live?" Byron realizes, with his newfound lack of passion, that he regrets his past. He wishes he had spent the prime of his life differently, and resolves to dedicate the rest of his life to the worthy cause of killing people on a battlefield and then dying, which he proceeds to do. Nash also reflects on his past and present states, saying he has "a bone to pick with Fate." He felt how he lived in the past was influenced by something beyond his control. He realizes he is different than other people, his mind is unique and is either immature or prematurely dying. Nash was almost twice the age of Byron when he died and he wrote poetry till the end, so I'm inclined to pick the former. This is what Nash is doing, by the way, he's asking for the wisdom of the crowds to help him with his general address to the world--specifically female intuition, note the use of the term "girlie."
Byron is similar in his use of "you" or "thy"--the direct address to the reader, which makes me like Nash but somehow doesn't work to make Byron more appealing. Byron doesn't request the readers' advice, he offers it, and it is ridiculous: "Seek out... / A soldier's grave." Thanks, but no thanks.
Nash's ending isn't as conclusive, but it is more hopeful, because either option he picks is sad--insanity or dementia--so it is better to leave the poem hanging on an eternal question, while Nash continues to happily write beautiful poetry.
"'Tis to create, and in creating live" - this sentiment is deeply rooted in all men. Children, one's creations, can take any number of shapes - career, actual kids, students, poetry - but the need to make something in order to feel alive burns in us. It's the pinch-me-so-I-know-if-I'm-sleeping sensation. We somehow don't know ourselves unless we produce something of that self. And, it is in that creation, whatever it may be, that we not only fulfill and recognize our own lives, but that we ensure our lives will breath beyond our physical lives. One can "glow" forever, mixed with "thy spirit" - the spirit of the creation; one can be an ever burning star. What prophecy in these words. Indeed, the ability to do can potentially make humans feel like Gods, masters of universes, movers, creators of destinies - and Byron would not have been concerned with heresy; he probably would've embraced any opportunity to spit in God's general direction, yes?
ReplyDeleteWhile all this is very much focused on the Me, there is recognition that the result of one's self is something more that one could have ever hoped to be, "A being more intense." The children surpass the father. "What am I? Nothing" - the suggestion is, what are you? everything. In the creation, birthing process, all one's power is transferred onto the 'child.' Though, always, it is reiterated that it was by the father's power that anything resulted. It's the "life we image," "that we endow." Relish in the enormity of the power!
At the same time that this is an inherently selfish concern, there is community, universality - it is not just "I," my ability and my life and my future, but the "we" and the "our." Humanity runs through this game with the same concerns, hoping to "gain as we give."
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage:
ReplyDeleteByron makes great use of negative space in this poem. In Line 5, the word 'hope' lingers, with the line 'awaking with a start' literally doing that too the reader. The last lines of each stanza jut into the white space. The metaphors are much better - they hold for longer than usual, and are poignant, not cliche.
In an obvious change of pace, the speaker moves more now. Yes, much of it's still happening to him, but there's more action. Somehow his poetry feels more grounded. The long line under each stanza certainly helps with that as well. Covering more ground, Byron refers to separate experiences with dark descriptions. Instead of immersing himself in such emotions, this speaker is aware of his thought process, and can somewhat veer it in the way he wants. Even when thrown emotionally from like a weed in the waves, he is aware, and able to articulate the experience in such a poignant way.