The Unmediated Vision: An Interpretation of Wordsworth, Hopkins, Rilke, and Valéry

Abstract

ceived the formidable legion of variant, if not discordant, interpretations.The philologist and the philosopher, the sociologist, the humanist, the various historians-of ideas, of literature, of politics, and of economics-the psychoanalyst and the empirical psychologist, the theologian and the lay Jewish and Christian critics, the more orthodox and the less orthodox-all had their "approach," believed themselves in possession of the truth, demanded a hearing, quarreled suavely or with verbal spittle, and insisted that even when the text did not quite fit, their analysis clarified a truth dimly perceived in the original.Still more evidence came from the his- tory of interpretation itself: inexplicable changes of taste, wilful decontextualizations, sublime absurdities, and finally that cheerful bird of prey the skeptic, with corpses enough, yet attacking both the living and the dead.Having tasted these multiple modes of interpretation, I fell in love with the art of interpreting and could not return to my origi- nal state.I realized that the study of literature, like that of history and physical phenomena, had advanced beyond intellectual naivete, that just as we had laid hands on nature, unwillingly, and pried into history, unwillingly, so we were now, unwillingly, forced to consider literature as more than an organic creation, a social pas- time, a religious trope, an emotional outlet, a flower of civilization, more even than an exemplary stage for ideal probabilities.Litera- ture was being recognized as a moral force in its own right, an institution with its own laws, and, incipiently, a distinctive form of knowledge.The recognition meant labor, hard labor.The criti- cism of Voltaire and the classical writers, relying on an instinctive sense of decorum, as on the free and common consent of a class of gentleman readers, seemed to have perished like Atlantis.In its stead appeared the work of the owl-eyed philologist or historiographer with broad sympathies, the professional scholar with his "field," and the unpredictable responses of a profane crowd of enthusiasts, journalists and college students.Reflecting on these things -the passing of instinctively accepted (though fully educated) criteria of judgment and the extreme increase in modes of inter- pretation-I wondered if "criticism with approach" was an inevita- ble thing, or if there might be found once more a method universal in its appeal, a method of interpretation which could reaffirm the radical unity of human knowledge.The essays of this book are in pursuit of such a method.They attempt to present a way of analysis sensitive to each author as individual and to each work of art as such, and a principle of synthesis applicable to all authors and to every literary work of art.They would respect both the persistent ideal unity of the work of art and the total human situation from which it springs.In short, the essays would be an example of "criticism without approach."Though nothing is more presumptuous than to believe one's thought free of assumptions, this book is offered as an exercise in that kind of presumptuousness which does not trust any but complete interpretation, so as to realize in criticism the "art of ideas and of the orders of ideas" preconized by Valery.In order to gain a method of complete interpretation, the book evolves as a threefold study.The first part comprises four essays on poets of varying character and from three different countries, each essay centering on a single poem but through that poem touch- ing the rest of the author's work.After each poet has been considered individually, two final essays are added, one to attempt an explanation of the ideal tendency of all symbolic process, espe- cially that by means of language, the second to describe the dilemma * "How strangely both of us declinel" Quels secrets dans son coeur bride ma jeune amie, Ame par le doux masque aspirant une fleur?De quels vains aliments sa naive chaleur Fait ce rayonnement d'une femme endormie?Souffle, songes, silence, invincible accalmie, Tu triomphes, 6 paix plus puissante qu'un pleur, Quand de ce plein sommeil I'onde grave et Vampleur Conspirent sur le sein d'une telle ennemie.Dormeuse, amas dore d'ombres et d 'abandons, Ton repos redoutable est charge de tels dons, O biche avec langueur longue aupres d'une grappe, Que malgre Vdme absente, occupee aux enters, Ta forme au ventre pur qu'un bras fluide drape, Veille; ta forme veille, et mes yeux sont ouverts.Ch ARMES THE SLEEPER To what secrets in her heart does my young friend set fire, Soul breathing in through the sweet mask a flower?From what vain nourishments may her indwelling warmth Draw this radiance of a woman fallen asleep?Breath, dreams, stillness, O invincible calm, Peace of more power than a tear, yours is the triumph When the slow wave and ampleness of sleep Conspire on the breast of such an enemy.Sleeper, gold mass of shadows and yieldings, Your redoubtable rest is weighted with such gifts,O hind with languor long beside a grape cluster, That, though the soul is absent, busy in the depths, Your form's pure belly draped by the fluid arm Is awake; your form is awake, and my eyes are open.J. he poet meditates on a sleeping woman.He wonders at the cause