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Ezra Pound Versus "Hugh Selwyn Mauberley": A Distinction

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Ezra Pound Versus "Hugh Selwyn Mauberley": A Distinction

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Content EZRA POUND VERSUS HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY
A DISTINCTION
by
Jo Brantley Berryman
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(English)
June 1973
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BERRYMAN, Jo Brantley, 1943-
EZRA POUND VERSUS HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY:
A DISTINCTION.
University of Southern California, Ph.D., 1973
Language and Literature, modern
| University Microfilms, A X E R O X Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan \
© 1974
JO BRANTLEY BERRYMAN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEEN MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED.
UNIVERSITY O F S O UTHERN CA LIFO R NIA
TH E GRADUATE SCHOOL
U N IV E R S IT Y PARK
LOS ANG ELES, C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7
This dissertation, written by
Jo Brantley Berryman
under the direction of h.QV.... Dissertation Com
mittee, and approved by a ll its members, has
been presented to and accepted by The Graduate
School, in partial fulfillm ent of requirements of
the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H IL O S O P H Y
Dean
D ate...
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
Chairman
PREFACE
Since its publication April 23, 1920, Ezra Pound's Hugh Selwyn
Mauberley has continued to puzzle its readers. Just who is Hugh
Selwyn Mauberley? What does he represent? How does he differ, if at
all, from Ezra Pound? What is the relationship, if any, between the
poems within the sequence? From whose point of view are they written?
Are "Envoi" and "Medallion" related to each other and/or to the other
poems ?
These basic problems of structure and point of view have
remained unresolved in spite of the critical attention Mauberley has
received. The explication of the poem in this thesis is designed to
demonstrate the intricate relationship of point of view, structure,
and meaning, as well as to challenge many of the current interpre
tations.
The first chapter includes a review of critical positions that
have mistakenly identified "Medallion" as an expression of Mauberley's
aesthetic attitudes. An examination of Pound's poetic principles
reveals that the values represented by "Medallion" are entirely con
sistent with Pound's Vorticist or Imagist tenets. Thus, "Medallion"
expresses Pound's, not Mauberley's point of view.
In the second chapter, the image of the singer in "Medallion"
is traced to its origins in Pound's Canzoni and to the Lady in
medieval love poetry. Pound drew the images for Mauberley from his
ii
his immediate environment as well as from the traditions of painting,
sculpture, music, and literature. He fuses these various images in
"Medallion" in order to create his vision of the mythical goddess of
love, Aphr od i te.
The aesthetic values of Pound and Mauberley are differentiated
I
|in Chapter III. Pound drew his portrait of Mauberley from critical
|
|writings that appeared regularly in London journals opposing Vorticist
i
jideas as well as from literary models such as Gautier's D'Albert in
I
I Mademoiselle de Maupin. By identifying Pound's sources for Mauberley
ias representative of attitudes that Pound opposed, the differences
between poet and persona become evident.
i
I
The final chapter focuses on Pound's techniques in creating
i
I Mauberley and includes a comparison of Pound's and Mauberley's politi
cal and religious views. Although many critics have assumed that the
I pessimistic opinions expressed in Poems II-V, attitudes which lead to
|a rejection of civilisation, were held by the poet as well as his
|
|persona, I suggest that the point of view presented is consistently
Mauberley's. Pound, in contrast, dedicated himself to the preserva-
|tion of his concept of civilisation: our literary and artistic
| ■
|heritage.
iii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter
I "MEDALLION": POUND'S POEM ............................ 1
II THE IMAGE IN "MEDALLION" .......................42
III SIFTING TO AGATHON FROM THE CHAFF ..................... 90
IV A BOTCHED CIVILISATION.................................. 152
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ...................................... 213
CHAPTER I
"MEDALLION": POUND'S POEM
The silent, shimmering singer of "Medallion" has long been
wedded to Mauberley. In contrast to the full-bodied voice and
sensual fulfillment offered by "Envoi's" singer, the singer in
"Medallion" presents only a rigid, unresponsive pose, a frozen, for
bidding face. Sterile and stern, such a singer must represent the
limited vision, the impoverished art of Mauberley. Thus, Mauberley,
ineffectual aesthete, impotent artist, has been justly mated with
metal and stone.
Hugh Kenner, in The Poetry of Ezra Pound, describes the in
adequacy of Mauberley's art, and suggests that "this sample Medallion
in its very scrupulousness exemplifies his sterility." Donald Davie,
in "Ezra Pound's Hugh Selwyn Mauberley," also views "Medallion" as
evidence that "Mauberley's deficiencies as a writer are identical with
2
his deficiencies as a human being. In as recent a view as Hugh
Witemeyer's 1969 study, the "Medallion" singer is seen as "the per-
3
fectly characteristic product of Mauberley's 'porcelain revery.'"
Such critical consistency in decrying Mauberley's flaws is not
surprising. After all, in "The Age Demanded," we learn that Mauberley
becomes "Incapable of the least utterance or composition." And we are
told that he suffers "final/Exclusion from the world of letters." In
the fact of such resulute directives, we conclude that Mauberley
obviously is defective, and that his poem "Medallion" should reflect
his inadequacy.
In spite of such consistent and confident attribution of
"Medallion's" authorship to Mauberley, however, the critics' final
appraisal of the poem rests uneasily with their evaluation of Mauber
ley's abilities. "Medallion" has merit. Donald Davie finds: "The
poem is not without distinction; it shows exactness of observation,
clarity of order, and compact economy in the phrasing." (The Modern
Age, p. 328.) Mr. Davie's critical acumen forces him to admit that
"Medallion": reveals Mauberley to be "a man of true poetic ability"
(p. 328). Hugh Witemeyer encounters similar difficulties. Although
Mr. Witemeyer in Forms and Renewal predictably concludes that "Mauber
ley's limited vision ultimately destroys his art" (p. 185); he still
thinks that "Medallion" as a poem "is perfect in its kind" (p. 186).
"Medallion," he realizes, "presents a thoroughly integrated apprehen
sion of its subject. And its conclusion has a powerful and complex
logic ..." (p. 186). Mr. Witemeyer concludes that although
Mauberley as artist is deficient, he leaves one perfect inscription:
"Medallion" (p. 187). Such an observation does not help to resolve
the difficulties of illustrating Mauberley's artistic flaws.
If critical evaluations of the poem do not correspond fully
to the foregone conclusion that Mauberley is an inferior artist, on
what basis, then, is "Medallion" faulted? The answer lies in the
imagery and tone of the poem, the kind of presentation identified with
"Medallion's" singer. Instead of the vibrant, appealing singer pre- |
sented in "Envoi,"Medallion's" singer is portrayed as porcelain.
Rendered in images of metal and stone, the glazed singer remains apart
from life, unyielding and indifferent to our gaze. For example,
William Spanos contrasts the two poems:
Pound's "Envoi" in its echoes of Cavalcanti, Chaucer,
Shakespeare, Herrick, Marvell and Waller lies in the rich main
stream of European lyric poetry. It is animated by human
passion. The poet sees the woman as a woman, vital, and
desirable . . .
Mauberley's "Medallion," on the other hand, is cold and
austere in its precision of detail. . . . There is not the
slightest intimation of emotion in this "art/in profile."
. . . nothing lives in this^scientifically precise and
deathly static description.
The images that create the "cold and austere" atmosphere, however,
which have invariably caused critics to link "Medallion's singer with
Mauberley's impotent and sterile world in fact seem to embody Pound's
positive ideas about the correct rendering of life into art. I shall
hope to prove that "Medallion," the severe and static vision it por
trays, reveal "Medallion" as Pound's poem, not Mauberley's; and that
Pound offers "Medallion" as the expression and embodiment of his own
positive aesthetic ideals.
Hugh Witemeyer convincingly demonstrates Hugh Selwyn Mauber
ley's function as a vehicle for Pound's assertion of vorticist values:^
It was while blasting and bombardiering in his Vorticist
polemics, then, that Pound first plotted the downfall of
Hugh Selwyn Mauberley. The character of Mauberley is the
dramatic embodiment of certain radical defects which the
Vorticists saw in impressionism, and Vorticist aesthetics
constitute the implicit value system by which he is judged
in the poem (p. 181).
! Mauberley, when judged by Pound's aesthetic values, can be condemned;
j
| but "Medallion," judged by the same standards, can be vindicated and
! identified as Pound's own poem.
In 1914, Pound was formulating and asserting the vorticist
jvalues; he used these principles as a basis for judging the creative
arts. As early as 1912, Pound was proclaiming that twentieth century
poetry "will be harder and saner. . . . It will be as much like
granite as it can be. . . . At least for myself, I want it so, austere,
direct, free from emotional slither."^ And in "The Later Yeats,"
i
first appearing in the May, 1914, issue of Poetry, Pound described
|the subtle changes appearing in Yeat's poetry: "one has felt his
|work becoming gaunter, seeking greater hardness of outline. This
|hardness can perhaps be more easily noted in 'The Magi.'"® After the
"glamourlets and mists and fogs since the nineties," continues Pound,
I"one is about ready for hard light." . . . "And this quality of hard
;light is precisely what one finds in the beginning of his The Magi:
Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
j Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
i And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
I (P. 380).
t
The silent, rigid figures, stony-faced and metal-helmed, that Pound
admires, may be thought to prefigure "Medallion's" severe singer.
Austere, alone, aloof, the Magi are analogous to the singer in her
rarified environment. Another poem that Pound points out as an
example of Yeats's technical advance also lends itself for comparison
| with "Medallion's" singer. In "No Second Troy," Yeats describes
Maud Gonne' s beauty, as
Beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in any age like this, ^
Being high and solitary and most stern . . .
The feminine figures of both "Medallion" and "No Second Troy" are
"not natural"; they share a beauty that is "high and solitary and
most stern."
The desire for severity, for clarity, and for metallic rigid
ity appears consistently throughout Pound's criticism. The writers he
most admires are those who exhibit precision and solidity in their
work. Praising James Joyce, Pound declares: "Mr Joyce writes a clear,
hard prose. He deals with subjective things, but he presents them
with such clarity of outline that he might be dealing with loco
motives."^ Pound admires the way Joyce writes "with a clear hard
ness, accepting all things, defining all things in clean outline.
Consistently, Pound praises and himself employs images of stone, of
metal, and of forbidding, cold forms." "it is a joy then to find in
Mr. Joyce a hardness and gauntness, 'like the side of an engine1;
efficient, clear statement. . . ." (p. 32). "Mr. Joyce," states
Pound, "writes the sort of prose I should like to write were I a
i , 12
prose writer.
Pound's disposition toward such images is in keeping with his
identity as vorticist. William Wees, in his article, "Ezra Pound As a
Vorticist," decides that the vorticists, "admire harshness, extremes,
13
. . . machinery, and rigid, sharp metallic forms ..." Writing
literary criticism as Ezra Pound, art criticism as B. H. Dias, or
6
14
music reviews as William Atheling, Pound relied on the vorticist
standards to evaluate and explain the artistic endeavors he
encountered.
In his article "Exhibition at the Goupil Gallery," Pound
reveals the reason for the vorticist's preference for inhuman, for
bidding forms. Art that meets the vorticist1s criteria for greatness
is far removed from a living, moving reality. Of the work he admires,
Pound, writing as B. H. Dias, declares:
These things are great art because they are sufficient
in themselves. They exist apart, unperturbed by the petti
ness and daily irritation of a world full of Claude
Phillipses . . . and of the constant bickerings of uncompre
hending minds. They infuriate the denizens of this superficial
world because they ignore it. Its impotences and its
importances do not affect them. Representing, as they do,
the immutable, the calm thoroughness of unchanging relations,
they are as the gods of the Epicureans, apart, unconcerned,
unrelenting. . . . It has the solemnity of Egypt. * *
Like Yeats's golden bird in "Sailing to Byzantium": the
ideal forms of the vorticists approach and reflect the ineffable;
they represent the eternal. "This work infuriates the superficial
mind," continues Pound, because "it takes no count of this morning's
leader; of transient conditions" (p. 109). It does not try to imitate
life; it transcends it.
Pound's source for thinking of his subjects in sculptural
terms is Gautier's Emaux et Camees. This Pound reveals in his essay
"The Hard and Soft in French Poetry." He apologizes "for using the
16
semimetaphorical terms 'hard' and 'soft,'" but asserts, "I can see
no other way" (p. 285) of describing the writing in question: "Anyone
who dislikes these textural terms may lay the blame on Theophile
Gautier, who certainly suggests them in Emaux et Camees; it is his
hardness that I had first in mind" (p. 285). Gautier, continues
17
Pound, "is intent on being 'hard,'" and has advised writers "to cut,
metaphorically, in hard stone" (p. 286). Gautier "exhorts us to cut
in hard substance, the shell and the Parian" (p. 285).
In accord with Gautier's directive, Pound's critical evalua
tions of other writings rely on this principle of hardness. Pound
distinguishes between two sorts of "hardness," echoing Gautier time
and again in his criticism: "Since Gautier, Corbihre has been hard,
not with a glaze or parian finish, but hard like weather-bit granite"
(p. 288). An example of writing that is hard with a parian finish
Pound finds in Lionel Johnson's poetry. In the preface to the
Poetical Works of Lionel Johnson, Pound asserts, ' .' Th e 'nineties'
have chiefly gone out because of their muzziness, because of a soft
ness. . . . The impression of Lionel Johnson's verse is that of small
18
slabs of ivory, firmly combined and contrived." "Lionel Johnson
alone," among the writers during the "nineties," states Pound, "would
seem to have reached the polish and fineness of Emaux et Camees in
those few poems of his where he seems to be moved by emotion rather
than by the critical spirit."^
Pound, writing "Medallion," continues to follow the critical
principles he extracted from Emaux et Canutes. The singer of "Medal
lion" is described with the "hardness," the "polish and fineness" of
^ 20
Emaux et Camdes. The softly modeled singer of "Envoi" is hardened
into the porcelain, glazed finish of "Medallion's" firm figure. In
"Envoi," in fact, the poet's intentions and critical motives are
revealed. The poet's desire to petrify living material is manifest
in "Envoi's" verses. Pound, the poet of "Envoi," wishes to transform
the vibrant, vital singer in order to create an imperishable image of
art. The singer's live "graces" are to be preserved "As roses . . .
in magic amber laid." Her song, her attractive and responsive attri
butes are to be "all made/One substance and one colour." The desire
Pound expresses in "Envoi" is fulfilled in "Medallion."
Can we feel sure, however, that "Envoi" and "Medallion" do
present the same scene? And if the poet adheres to one set of
aesthetic principles as he writes both poems, why does one convey a
sense of motion, of life; the other a stasis? Is it possible to
discover an external source that "Envoi" and "Medallion" have in
common? And if so, might this not explain the differerence in tone?
Pound has made it clear that he does not wish to reveal
whether or not an actual experience or incident prompted his descrip
tion of the singer in Mauberley.^^ Yet a probable source of
inspiration for his singer, that links the scene to "Envoi," and
"Medallion" as well, can be discovered in the critical reviews that
Pound wrote for The New Age.
In the March, 1918 issue of the Little Review, a brief notice,
"Raymonde Collignon," appeared. It was signed "E. P.":
There is a new diseuse loose on London. . . . She is
singing folk-song without the vegetarian and simple life
element. She is the first singer to work on Walter
Rummel's reconstructions of Xllth century Provencal music.
Her name is Raymonde Collignon. . . . She is really a
consummate a r t i s t . ^
i 9
iTwo months later, Pound, writing under the pseudonym William
Atheling, described her performance in concert:
Raymonde Collignon's delicate and exquisite art . . . was
taxed to its utmost. . . . The Campion "Jack and Joan" was
so infinitely above the rest of the songs that one would
pray her to keep to the masters; considering that it is
nearly impossible to get this old music sung with due pre
cision and delicacy and that she is really equipped for it.
We were delighted with the exquisite melodic line of
the Ruramel reconstructions from the Troubadour music, and
it was a comfort to find words in some relation to notes.^3
The songs Miss Collignon presented in the concert, "Walter Rummel's
24
reconstructions of Xllth qentury Provenpal music," in fact were
partially prepared by Pound himself. In the spring of 1911, Pound
had traveled to Paris, and had begun working with Walter Rummel to
reconstruct the troubador music. Noel Stock, in The Life of Ezra
Pound, reports that "By 21 March 1911, Pound was staying with Walter
Morse Rummel, attending concerts and working with Rummel on Arnaut
Daniel and the problem of how to interpret the music of the trouba
dours" (p. 96). In a letter to Iris Barry, Pound refers to this
period of his life and to his continuing interest in music: "Yes,
I care somewhat for music. . . . I was even an impresario. . . . Je
connus the London mondo musicale, at least the concert-hall recital
part of it. Later I lived with Rummel, several times for months at
a stretch in Paris. . . ."^ Noel Stock records that by 1917, Pound
had renewed and concentrated his efforts to complete his translations
of the troubador poetry: "During the second week in December 1917
Pound was working hard to finish his new Arnaut Daniel translations
for publication. . . . By the end of December Pound had completed a
group of Provencal translations called 'Homage A la langue d'Oc'. . . J
(Life of Pound, p. 211). Pound did complete this work by January,
1918, two months before his first public recognition of Raymonde
Collignon; and he sent his manuscripts to Harriet Monroe: "I enclose
ray harvest. I have made two series of it, one mediaeval. Before you
blaspheme over it, do read the Canzon aloud. I have completely re-
26
written or nearly finished completely rewriting all Arnaut Daniel."
Pound also sent copies of his translations to his friends, and Noel
Stock reports:
Some of Pound's friends in London greatly admired the
Provenjal translations and Lewis writing from France on
16 January 1918 told him . . . 'if they are all as good
as the one I read,' Lewis said, 'you are on the point of
producing an important book.' Encouraged by this recep
tion he was full of plans during the next few months for
reviving the music of the troubadors and the art of
setting words to music" (Life of Pound, p. 212).
In a letter to John Quinn, Pound mentions this work, and emphasizes
the importance of Raymonde Collignon to it: "I have finished my
Arnaut, and now Raymonde Collignon is really going to sing the old
music, the reconstructions Rummel and I made six years ago. It
means a new start on the whole thing (Provencal XII Century music),
27
and probably the resurrection of as much of it as is worth while."
Finally, Noel Stock asserts that the songs Pound had worked on were
presented in concert, by Raymonde Collignon: "At the Aeolian Hall
on 27 April she (Miss Collignoq) sang some of the Rummel-Pound
troubadour songs of 1911-12 and the event was recorded by William
Atheling in The New Age of 16 May 1918 " (Life, p. 212). The des
criptions of Miss Collignon's singing, appearing in William Atheling's
I columns in The New Age, bind her image not only to the singer of
;"Envoi," who recreates the tradition of song; but also to the feminine
figure of "Medallion": to the glazed, porcelain portrait that con
cludes Hugh Selwyn Mauberley.
The connection with "Envoi" is obvious. Pound believes that
the tradition of English song originates in the troubador music.
Donald Davie points out, "The mediaeval forma that Pound particularly
values is re-created whenever the tradition of song (originating,
Pound thinks, in Proven9e) is momentarily recovered, for instance by
28
Henry Lawes in England in the seventeenth century. This tradition
of song was also momentarily and immediately recovered when-Raymonde
Collignon sang the troubador songs in concert. "Envoi's" function
as a recreation and invocation of this lyric tradition is convincingly
demonstrated in Hugh Witemeyer's explication of the poem in Forms
and Renewal (pp. 190-95). Since Raymonde Collignon is the only singer
Pound praised publicly for reviving the lyric tradition that he has
29
associated with Lawes, Waller, and Campion, it seems certain that
she did serve Pound as the living image for "Envoi's" singer.
To see how this singer also served as the source for the
porcelain singer of "Medallion" we need to turn to William Atheling's
music column in late summer, 1918: "Raymonde Collignon's art is
exquisite and her own, minute as the enamelling on snuff-boxes (of
the best sort). Her first programme was rather better than the
second that I heard. This diseuse is very young, but she shows
30
herself capable of perfectly finished work." Although a snuff box,
f t
I even "of the best sort" and embellished, at first thought may not seem j
a felicitous image, it nonetheless corresponds to the type of images
Gautier uses in describing his own work in Hfmaux et Camdes. In "Les
Progrbs de la Poesie Franpaise depuis 1830," Gautier describes his
method:
Ce titre, Emaux et Camees, exprime le dessein de traiter |
sous forme restreinte de petits sujets, tantSt sur plaque
d'or de cuivre avec les vives couleurs de 1'email, tantot
avec la roue du graveur de pierres fines, sur 1'agate, la
cornaline ou l'onyx. Chaque pifece devait ttre un medaillon
a enchSsser sur le couvercle d'un coffret, un cachet a
porter au doigt, serti dans une bague, quelque chose qui
rappelSt les empreintes de mSdailles antiques qu'on voit
chez les peintres et les sculpteurs.^
The enamelled snuff-box, its vivid colours and finely drawn design,
parallel Raymonde Collignon's "exquisite . . . perfectly finished
ii30
work. Such images agree with Gautier's treatment of "petits
sujets." When writing Emaux et Camees, Enamels and Cameos, Gautier
also furnished Pound with the images that enabled him to visualize his
subjects, whether from experience or from imagination, in such
graphic, sculptural terms. The very title "Medallion," is a tribute
to Gautier's idea of what "chaque piece devait £tre." And the
feminine figure of "Medallion" was formed in the mold that Gautier
had cast.
In the same year Mauberley was published, William Atheling
wrote his final review of Raymonde Collignon's singing. Pound here
amends his original graphic impression of this singer's art; but his
description inextricably binds her to the singer in "Medallion":
I
| 13
| Raymonde Collignon not in good voice, but gave a truly
I distinguished rendering of her songs. . . . As long, as
this diseuse was on the stage she was non-human; she was,
i if you like, a china image; there are Ming porcelains which
i are respectable; the term "china" is not in this connection
ridiculous.^2
Thus, the singer who brings life to the lyric in "Envoi," is also the
| singer of "Medallion." Her glazed, porcelain portrait remains as
the artist's vision of a living moment caught in art. The "china
image” that recreates, in concert, the English tradition of song,
reappears as the metallic, porcelain image of "Medallion." Rather
than rejecting the aims expressed in "Envoi," "Medallion" brings
; them to fruition. Living, soft substance is transformed within the
poet's preserving medium: "Graces" as roses, are wrought in verse,
molded in metal and stone. In a portrait presented as porcelain,
petrified in poetry, the singer of "Medallion" emerges as immortal,
immobile--a serene, supreme image above the seething, sensual world.
Although "Envoi" and "Medallion" do present the same scene and
embody the same aesthetic ideals, the tone and technique of the two
poems are quite different. If Pound does wish to present the same
;set of aesthetic principles in each poem, how can such differences
be explained?
"Envoi" and "Medallion" can be viewed as products of one set
of aesthetic principles, consistent with all the values and
aesthetic standards Pound had advocated. For the difference between
these two poems originates, not in the poet's aesthetic values or
point of view, as previously assumed, but in the distinction he makes
between two different types of poetry. In his essay "The Later Yeats,"
Pound explains two approaches to verse: "There have always been two
sorts of poetry which are, for me at least, the most 'poetic1; they
are firstly, the sort of poetry which seems to be music just forcing
itself into articulate speech, and secondly, that sort of poetry
which seems as if sculpture or painting were just forced or forcing
itself into words.This distinction is repeated in Pound's mani
festo "Vorticism," which, he explains in Gaudier-Brzeska, is "for the
most part a closer form of a rather informal lecture given at the
Rebel Art Centre"^ some months earlier. His discussion gives us the
categories for both "Envoi" and "Medallion":
There is a sort of poetry where music, sheer^ melody,
seems as if it were just bursting into speech.
There is another sort of poetry where painting or
sculpture seems as if it were "just coming over into speech."
The first sort of poetry has long been called "lyric"
The other sort of poetry is as old as the lyric and as
honourable, but, until recently, no one had named it (pp. 82-3).
"Envoi," I suggest, is Pound's positive example of "music just forcing
itself into articulate speech,” whereas "Medallion" exemplifies
35
"sculpture or painting . . . forcing itself into words."
"Envoi" fulfills the ambition Pound expressed in a letter to
Margaret C. Anderson in 1918: "I desire also to resurrect the art
of the lyric. I mean words to be sung . . . there is scarcely any
thing since the time of Waller and Campion. And a mere imitation of
36
them won't do." "Envoi" has long been lauded as an exquisite blend
ing of themes and images that echo the entire history of lyric verse.
Critics have freely bestowed praise on Pound's effort to recover the
English art of song; they have admired Pound's skillful fusion of the
I 15
I multiple forces forming the lyric's heritage. For example, in
i
I II
; Ezra Pound s Mauberley, John Espey finds, The echoes of the long line
j - - - - - - - - - -
of English poets from Chaucer down are so varied and interwoven as to
make a complete unraveling almost impossible" (p. 98). Donald Davie
| notes in The Modern Age that in "Envoi," "The voice of the poet
! seems to be the anonymous voice of the tradition of English song"
I (p. 325). Hugh Witemeyer also admires Pound's accomplishment.
| "Envoi," believes Mr. Witemeyer, "reaches out beyond its source
in 'Go Lovely Rose' to summarize, by masterful combination of themes
; and images, the entire lost culture of the English lyric tradition"
(Forms and Renewal, p. 192). "Envoi" has been fully recognized
for its merits. Rightly so. Yet what critics have failed to
realize, heretofore, is Pound's comparable technique in "Medallion."
In "Medallion," Pound combines themes and images just as masterfully;
; he Interweaves them just as intricately as in "Envoi." The dif
ference is that in "Envoi," Pound aims to create lyrical poetry,
poetry that presents the "music, sheer melody" of the tradition of
English song (Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 81). In "Medallion," Pound
composes Imagist poetry.^ Instead of blending themes and images
drawn from the history of the English lyric as he does in "Envoi";
| in "Medallion," Pound interweaves and represents images drawn from
our heritage of the graphic and plastic arts. The singer of "Madal-
lion," as we shall see, is formed from a fusion of aesthetic images
recorded in past masterwork as well as from a living source.
Images from life, from previous poetry, sculpture and painting,
are remodeled by Pound, and fused in the porcelain portrait of
"Medallion.”
One of Pound's principal methods for establishing aesthetic
values and for creating his Image is introduced in the first line of
"Medallion": "Luini in porcelain!" Hugh Witemeyer notes that
Pound's "first and simplest technique" (Forms and Renewal, p. 12)
for bringing established values into focus with his own, and for
creating a substratum of meaning within his poetry, is that of
allusion: "When Pound uses a line from Gautier or speaks through the
mask of Villon, he creates a double perspective by which their work
in some way comments on his; or vice verse. . . . The past is always
present in Pound's poetry, demanding recognition for its imperishable
values" (Forms and Renewal, pp. 10-11). The difficulty in Pound's
use of such allusions is that the reader is forced to see with Pound's
eyes: "The allusions and literary background in Pound's poems often
require not only that the reader be able to identify them, but that
he also know precisely what significance Pound attached to them"
(p. 11). In such a situation, the reader's understanding of the work
in question is determined by his knowledge of the inner workings of
the poet's mind: the reader, seemingly, is at the mercy of his
capacity for clairvoyance. Mr. Witemeyer notes that the communicative
gap between poet and reader occurs because readers are unfamiliar
with Pound's value system, implicit in his verse. Consistently, Mr.
Witemeyer finds, Pound "uses a system of cultural shorthand in which
the mere presentation of a fact, a name, or an allusion is meant to
17
convey a highly complex evaluation but often fails to do so because
the reader is not privy to Pound's personal ratiocinations" (p. 11).
This appears to be the case with Pound's allusion to "Luini" in the
first line of "Medallion." Having identified "Luini" as an Italian
Renaissance painter who lived from 1475 to 1532 and who was noted for
his religious paintings, such as "Jesus Among the Doctors," or "The
Beheading of John the Baptist," we are no nearer understanding the
significance of his name within the context of "Medallion," What
associations or values does Pound, or should the reader, attach to
"Luini?" Why does Pound envisage a "Luini in porcelain?"
Such difficulties as the Luini reference here presents and as
Pound's method in general entails, are not insurmountable. "The
missing information in Pound's poetry is often close to hand," Mr.
Wietmeyer reassures us in Forms and Renewal (p. 11). Pound, he finds,
"seldom makes a judgment or discrimination that he has not somewhere
argued fairly and openly. He seldom makes extensive use of a body
of foreign literature that he has not translated or at least dis
cussed at some length in his critical writings. . . . His references
in one context usually imply values which he has previously 'ex-
cerned' in another" (pp. 11-12). This is, in fact, the situation with
Pound's allusion to "Luini." Bernardino Luini, Renaissance artist,
is not discussed in Pound's published criticism. Within the verses
of "Medallion," however, Pound gives the reader explicit directions
for discovering the work that not only explains the allusion to Luini,
but also identifies the allusions within the rest of "Medallion."
I 18
The line, "Pages of Reinach," occurs dead center in "Medallion."
This positioning is appropriate, because this allusion focuses and
unites all the allusions occurring within "Medallion." "Pages of
Reinach" refers to Apollo, a qualitative analysis of the history of
38
art written by Salomon Reinach. Apollo contains photographs and
commentaries that are highly relevant to Pound's allusions, which
help establish a system of values by which to evaluate these allusions.
That Pound was familiar with Apollo early in his career is
evident from references he made to Reinach1s work. For example, in
reply to an attack on his article "The New Sculpture," which had
implied that Pound lacked understanding of the history of sculpture,
Pound retorted: "Your correspondent, Auceps, complains that I have
not stopped to quote the whole of Reinach's Apollo in my 1000 word
39
article on 'The New Sculpture.'" Hugh Witemeyer suggests that the
"reference to Reinach's Apollo in Mauberley's "Medallion" may sym
bolize Mauberley's inadequate critical sense (Forms and Renewal,
p. 193n.). Such, however, is not the case. K. K. Ruthven, in
A Guide to Ezra Pound's Personae (1926), notes the number of images
throughout "Medallion" which recall phrases Reinach uses in Apollo.1 ^®
And throughout his art criticism, Pound's opinions coincide remark
ably often with the judgments Reinach expressed in Apollo. For
example, Reinach writes disparagingly of Rubens, explaining that
"Rubens is not concerned to express the inexpressible, nor even the
„41 a .
hidden delicacy of things. Pound, in turn, writes of the
42
stupidity of Rubens. In his discussion of engraved gems that
i served as seals, intaglios, cameos, and coins, Reinach states that
hundreds of the Mycenaean intaglios "are masterpieces," (Apollo,
p. 82); and the Sicilian coins "attest the superiority of Greek art no
less eloquently than the Hermes of Praxiteles and the Venus of Milo"
(p. 83). Using these miniature works of art as evidence of the magni
tude of ancient artistic achievement, Reinach concludes: "The
material and the dimensions of works are of little importance, (that)
style is the essential element ..." (p. 83). Perhaps Pound had this
in mind when he compared Raymonde Collignon's style to the enamelled
snuff-boxes, and when he created his own portrait in miniature,
"Medallion." Numerous other examples of Pound's views coinciding
with those expressed by Reinach could be cited; for instance, their
shared admiration of Whistler and boredom with Pre-Raphaelite paint-
43
ing. But Pound also states his approval of Reinach directly. In
"Affirmations— Analysis of this Decade," Pound discussed improvements
he wished to see in literary criticism. He felt the "need for a
uniform criticism of excellence based on world-poetry, and not of the
fashion of any one particular decade."^ Pound expressed a desire
for a "qualitative analysis in literature" such as had been "practised
but never formulated by Gaston Paris, Reinach ..." (p. 115). Addi
tional evidence that Pound admired as well as studied Salomon
Reinach's work occurs in an early article, "America: Chances and
Remedies." Pound recommends using Reinach's method of presenting
information and implies his own debt to Reinach's knowledge:
20
No minute detail of knowledge is ever dull if it be
presented to us in such a way as to make us understand its
bearing on the whole of a science. Gaston Paris notably,
and S. Reinach, especially in his Manual of Classical
Philology, have presented detailed knowledge in such a way
that anyone can approach it; that anyone who likes may
study as much of it, or precisely that part of it which
suits his purposes.^
The pervading echoes and direct allusions to Reinach's Apollo
throughout "Medallion" suggest that Pound did assimilate and use
"precisely that part of it which suits his purposes" in his poreclain
poem. Such evidence strongly suggests that Pound had Reinach's
description of Luini in mind as he wrote, "Luini in porcelain."
"Luini," declares Reinach, produced paintings whose "most
characteristic trait is a certain honeyed softness that delights the
multitudes" (Apollo, p. 59). The purpose of the first allusion of
"Medallion," then, is to suggest such a "honeyed softness." Yet,
Pound envisions a "Luini in porcelain!" Why does and how can, the
"honeyed softness" of Luini's paintings appear in porcelain? The
answer can be discovered in the art columns Pound wrote for The New
Age under the pseudonym B. H. Dias.
In the work of Wyndham Lewis, Pound found what he believed to
be the correct rendering of life into art. Pound never hesitated to
express his admiration and enthusiasm for Wyndham Lewis's work. An
example of his reaction to Lewis's abilities occurs in a letter to
John Quinn:
Lewis has just sent in the first dozen drawings. They
are all over the room, and the thing is stupendous. The
vitality, the fullness of the man! Nobody knows it. My
God, the stuff lies in a pile of dirt on the man's floor.
21
Nobody has seen it. Nobody has any conception of the volume
and energy and the variety. . . .
It seems to me that Picasso alone, certainly alone among
the living artists whom I know of, is in anything like the
same class. It is not merely knowledge of technique, or
skill, it is intelligence and knowledge of life, of the
whole of it, beauty, heaven, hell, sarcasm, every kind of
whirlwind of force and emotion. Vortex. That is the right
word, if I did find it myself.^
In the column regularly appearing in The New Age, "Art Notes,"
Pound consistently praises Lewis's techniques; and he reveals that he
admires Lewis for accomplishing in sculpture and painting or drawing
what he attempted himself in the poetic portrait, "Medallion." In
one complimentary description of Wyndham Lewis's work, Pound reveals
both his intention in "Medallion," and the meaning of the poem's
first line, "Luini in porcelain!" Pound states: "We note parti
cularly the palpable flesh quality and texture in the black nude in
6 , the sense of certitude and simplification . . . and, throughout
the series, consummate ability to define his masses by line and to
express the texture of soft substance without sacrifice of an almost
metallic rigidity of boundary.Pound's ambition within "Medal
lion," to capture the "honeyed softness" characteristic of Luini, in
order to present and preserve it in metal and porcelain, is fore
shadowed in this analysis of Lewis's art. Moreover, the "texture of
soft substance" expressed in Lewis's drawings, and the "honeyed
softness" associated with Luini, correspond to the softly sensuous
singer of "Envoi." The singer's graces that "live/As roses" will be
bound in "magic amber": they will become "Red overwrought with orange
and all made/One substance and one coulour ..." This, indeed, is
22
I accomplished— in "Medallion." The fragile roses of "Envoi" wrought
in amber, the soft-honey hair spun in metal or amber, the sensuous
singer portrayed as glazed in china, all reflect Pound's desire "to
express the texture of soft substance" bound within rigid lines and
planes. The "braids which seem as if they were/Spun . . ./From
metal" create the "metallic rigidity of boundary" for "The face-oval
beneath the glaze." Thus, the first line of "Medallion": "Luini in
porcelain!" signals Pound's intention (1) to present poetry "where
:painting or sculpture seems as if it were just bursting into
48
speech;" and (2) to cast the living image of the soft, sensuous
singer within the petrifying mold of "Medallion." "Medallion" re
presents Pound's attempt to contain the living image of Raymonde
Collignon and her presentation of song; to transform transience into
permanence. In the same article where he compares Miss Collignon,
singing in concert, to "a china image," Pound reveals his interest in
the methods of presenting life in art and of recreating one art in
terms of another. Emphasizing that art is re-creation, not imita
tion, Pound admires Miss Collignon's porcelain presentation:
Raymonde Collignon not in good voice, but gave a truly
distinguished rendering of her songs. No one has a more
keen perception than she has of the difference between
art and life; of the necessary scale and proportion
required in the presentation of a thing which is not the
photograph and wax cast, but a re-creation in different
and proportional medium. . . . One would like the ability
to express verbally the exact difference between this
sort of presentation which is art, and the other sort of
presentation, which is just Miss Jones of Peckwell singing
a song.^
In "Medallion," Pound attempts such "a re-creation in
23
different and proportional medium." He envisages the singing figure,
instantaneously, as a "Luini in porcelain!" And he immediately
translates his perception into the medium of verse.
Thus "Medallion" is a great deal more than a simple snapshot
from memory of what Raymonde Collignon looked and sounded like.
Writing as B. H. Dias, Pound remarked on memory and its function in
artistic composition:
. . . memory is one of the least interesting mental attri
butes; it is one of the first faculties to develop in
childhood; it is said to be excellent among elephants;
it is shared by many forms of mechanism. It is indeed
purely mechanical. The human addition is the faculty
which leaps into memory and snatches up this or that at
the moment. The Muses are not memory but the Daughters
of Memory. By them the creative artist seizes the
elements of his composition from the labyrinths of his
mind; by them the elements are assembled.^®
The image of "Medallion" is not an exact representation or imitation
of this singer; rather, it is a re-creation of Pound's memory of her
image which is fused with other elements drawn "from the labyrinths"
of the poet's mind.
To recall the original concert scene which inspired Pound's
conception of the "Medallion" image, does however, help to explain
such lines as
The grand piano
Utters a profane
Protest with her clear soprano.
The "Clear soprano," presumably of the concert singer, is accompanied
by the piano. Pound has declared his objection to such irrelevant
and intrusive keyboard accompaniment to the voice. In "The Prose
24
Tradition in Verse," Pound describes verse where "The words have a
music of their own, and a second 'musician's' music is an impertinence
or an intrusion.Pound emphasizes the irrelevance of piano
accompaniment to song and implies that he objects to the custom of
providing such accompaniment: "Time was when a musician was content,
like other true artists, to be the servant of beauty. Paul Edmonds
has made a good beginning. . . . The idea that no poem becomes a song
until you have some unrelated piano music in the offing is interred
52
by Mr. Edmonds' setting of Herrick." It is in this way that the
notes emitted by "The grand piano" are objectionable. Against "her
clear soprano," the piano seems an intrusion, an impertinence, a
desecration. Against the purity of sound presented by the voice of
the singer, the mechanical notes uttered by the piano seem profane.
Pound objected to the inferior sound produced by the piano,
compared with other instruments requiring greater human participation
and concentration. Because of the additional mechanical devices
used by the pianist, Pound declares, "piano playing has gradually
53
progressed to a carelessness about actual sound." The sound of
the piano, Pound believes, is "from the auditor's point of hearing,
inferior to the orchestra:"^ "Violin, oboe, flute, cello, tympani,
any, absolutely any, of these instruments . . . would be more effec
tive (than a pianoj" (p. 113-14). Hugh Witemeyer points out, "Pound
had a hierarchy of musical instruments, classed by their mechaniza- .
tion" (Forms and Renewal, p. 187). The pianola occupies one of the
lowest rungs of this hierarchy. Pound, Mr. Witemeyer suggests,
! 25 |
i "habitually used the pianola .(player piano) to signify the mechaniza-
; tion, dehumanization of modern music" (Forms and Renewal, p. 187). j
Pound objects to the pianola, because it "alienates the performing
artist from the medium" (p. 188). The piano, though less objectionable
than the pianola, is still more mechanical and less desirable than
the clavichord, for example, or the lute. In his article "Arnold
Dolmetsch," Pound describes his pleasure at hearing Dolmetsch's two
55
young daughters play "with an exquisite precision" producing "clear
music . . . tones clear as brown amber . . . out of the harpsichord
or the clavichord or out of virginals or out of odd-shaped viols"
(433). Then Ibund compares these instruments with the piano:
Once people played music. It was gracious, exquisite
music, and it was played on instruments which gave out
the players' exact mood and personality. . . . The clavi- .
chord has the beauty of three or four lutes played
together. . . . You have your fingers always en rapport
with the strings; it is not one dab and then either
another dab or else nothing, as with the piano; the
music is always lying on your own finger-tips (p. 433).
In "Medallion," Pound signals his aural impression of the singer,
immediately following his visual impression of her ("Luini in por
celain!"). Implicitly asserting his own musical values as a
Vorticist, Pound presents the sound of the grand piano as a "profane/
Protest" against the purity and clarity of the soprano voice.
Pound frequently links names and images to establish paral
lels between historical, mythical, and individual experience;
between the poet's private experiences and traditional or universal
experience contained in art. Such linking unites and heightens the
allusions in "Medallion," and is in line with a technique practiced
from early in Pound's career.
For instance in Canto II,
Seal sports in the spray-whited circles of cliff-wash,
Sleek head, daughter of Lir,
eyes of Picasso
Under black fur-hood, lithe daughter of Ocean.
The image of the seal that is perceived as a goddess in the mind's
eye of the poet is explained by E. M. Glenn in his "Guide to Canto II
of Ezra Pound": "In classical literature seals are closely related
to both gods and men; hence they may suggest that there is an intimate
relationship between the divine, the human, and the natural. In the
Odyssey (Loeb. ed.), IV, 404, for example, they are spoken of as 'the
56
brood of the fair daughter of the sea'. . ." In the instant of
poetic insight, the seal is metamorphosed into the "daughter of Lir,"
the visionary goddess, and represents the mediating material prompt
ing the poet's vision. Mr. Glenn continues, "The metamorphic seal,
intimate with the divine, human, and natural, operates confidently
on the tricky and hazardous borderline between the two realms of
experience, the fluid phenomenal and the concrete eternal" (The
Analyst, No. 18, p. 11). So when, in Canto LXXIX, Pound recalls
the "Sleek head that saved me out of one chaos," he recalls this
moment of awareness, the emergence of beauty and order from chaos;
the materializing of form out of flux; the recognition of the eternal
presence in the temporal world. Yet this "sleek head" brings us
directly back to "Medallion," In the second stanza of "Medallion,"
27
The sleek head emerges
From the gold-yellow frock
As Anadyomene in the opening
Pages of Reinach.
The parallel in imagery should not be surprising. It is the sort of
analogy we have come to expect from Pound's earlier verse. The sleek
head of the seal emerging from the ocean waves or the sleek head
emerging from the "gold-yellow frock" both signal the artist's
immediate awareness of form emerging from encompassing environment.
The analogy is especially apt, as Anadyomene is immortalized as the
goddess emerging from the sea, materializing out of the foam of the
sea. The Venus which Pound's allusion prepares us to envisage is,
then; the Venus of the waves--the sensual woman born on the sea
foam in Ingres' Venus Anadyomene or the golden-haired, glowing Aphro
dite of Botticelli's Birth of Venus who floats ashore on her scallop
shell.
The Anadyomene of "Medallion," however, presents no such
desirable scene. Instead of the Venus Anadyomene who embodies, as
Donald Davie reminds us in The Modern Age, "the mythological expres
sion of how sexual and other vitality is renewed" (p. 329), the Ana
dyomene of "Medallion" emerges as no erotic goddess. Rather than an
alluring image of pleasure or procreation, "Medallion's" Anadyomene
reveals only an expressionless face, frozen in time, static in space.
Mr. Davie observes of this scene, "We note that it is the head which,
for Mauberley, is rising Venus-like from the sea, not the breasts or
the loins" (p. 329).
28 !
The allusion to Anadyomene is indubitably, as K. K. Ruthven i
suggests, to the head of Aphrodite in Lord Leconfield's Collection,
London, pictured in S. Reinach's Apollo, fig. 83 (Guide to Personae,
p. 149). Ruthven points out the parallels in Reinach's description
of this sculpture with the images and descriptive phrases in "Medal
lion": Reinach describes the Head of Aphrodite as
so marvellously supple in execution and so exquisitely
suave in expression that we may fairly accept it as the
work, if not of Praxiteles himself, then of one of his
immediate pupils. The characteristics of the feminine
ideal as conceived by this great and fascinating genius
are all clearly defined in this head. The form of the
face, hitherto round, has become oval; the eyes, instead
of being fully opened, are half closed, and have that
particular expression which the ancients described as
"liquid." . . . The hair . . . is freely modelled; and
finally, the whole reveals a preoccupation with Effects
of chiaroscuro, of subdued play of light and shadow. . . .
It is here that we note the influence of painting upon
sculpture (Apollo, pp. 58-59).
The oval face, the modelled hair, the play of light, the detailed
emphasis of the head--all coincide with "Medallion's" portrait.
Praxiteles's Head of Aphrodite may show "the influence of painting
upon sculpture," according to Reinach; "Medallion," in turn, shows
the influence of this sculpture upon poetry. "Medallion," we are
reminded, expresses and embodies Pound's desire to create "that sort
of poetry which seems as if sculpture or painting were just forced
or forcing itself into words.
Reinach's notes also furnish us with a clue to the connection
between our anticipated image of Aphrodite as Anadyomene, the goddess
emerging out of the foam of the sea, and the image which "Medallion's"
allusion to Anadyomene actually presents us with, once we have
recognized the allusion to Apollo. The head of Aphrodite, Reinach
explains, is all we have to remind us of the excellence of an earlier
sculpture by Praxiteles: "The most famous of his works among the
ancients was a nude figure of Aphrodite about to enter the sea. . . .
Unfortunately the copies that have come down to us are very mediocre"
(Apollo, p. 58). Pound chooses to allude to the masterfully done
Head of Aphrodite, rather than to any one of the "mediocre" copies
of the full-bodied Anadyomene. By doing so he undoubtedly laid him
self open to the misunderstanding of such a reader as Donald Davie.
Critics have rightly objected to Pound's alluding to photo-
58
graphs in a book on art rather than to original works. Pound,
however, anticipated such criticism in his opening statement for
Gaudier-Brzeska: A Memoir. In Gaudier-Brzeska, Pound included
photographs of sculpture, drawings, and paintings: ". . . it is
obvious that all of it {Gaudier's workj cannot be, in the original,
accessible to all students of sculpture. Photographs of sculpture
are unsatisfactory but they are better than nothing. They are perhaps
59
better than casts.
Another reason why Pound referred to Reinach's Apollo is
presumably to provide the reader with an opportunity to examine the
works that Pound mentions. He reveals such a motivation in section
XIII of Gaudier-Brzeska: "it seems to me that if one could persuade
a few more people, the right people, to think a little about sculp
ture one might even give as much pleasure as one would by writing a
30
fine lyric, even supposing the two actions excluded each other,
which they do not" (p. 119). A source, such as Apollo, is not only
a convenient reference to help identify and interpret the allusions
occurring in "Medallion"; it also places these works in historical
perspective and provides information to help establish standards for
evaluating them.
Pound reveals the need for such a source in an art review
that he wrote for the New Age as B. H. Dias. Singling out one
painter to praise, Pound describes the kind of mastery he admires:
The minute you try to ascribe Ricketts' picture to
any one master you realise that without a whole library
of technical history in your . . . you are lost. . . .
Mr. Ricketts' work is a work of scholarship. He has not
cribbed an old master, or the style of any old master;
he has picked here and there, and worked out with infinite
care a perfectly unified style— the lift of the curtain,
the hard creamy-white stroaks (sic. 3 , all these show com
parison, analysis of a hundred old pictures . . . the work
of a conoisseur.60
In this appraisal of Ricketts' painting, Pound could have
been describing his technique in "Medallion." Pound's ability to
have "picked here and there, and worked out with infinite care" a
composition that contains the "comparison, analysis" of preceding
masterwork is revealed in both "Envoi" and "Medallion."
Pound, presumably, wishes the reader to employ the method of
judging art that he describes in his essay, "Praefatio Ad Lectorem
Electum (1910)":
The history of an art is the history of masterwork,
not of failures, or mediocrity. The omniscient historian
would display the masterpieces, their causes and their
inter-relation. . . .
31
It is dawn at Jerusalem while midnight hovers above the
Pillars of Hercules. All ages are contemporaneous. . . .
What we need is a literary scholarship which will weigh
Theocritus and Yeats with one balance . . . and will,
with equity, give praise to beauty before referring to
an almanack (Spirit of Romance, pp. 7-8).
Centuries may elapse between great masterworks; civilizations may
crumble, but "art and humanity remaining ever the same, gave us
basis for comparison ("Dante," Spirit of Romance, p. 157). Hugh
Witemeyer notes Pound's ambition to create such a qualitative scholar
ship; and although he is describing Pound's critical methods, his
observation could well be applied to Pound's aspirations within
"Medallion." Pound's "entire career as a critic represents an en
deavor to become that omniscient historian who displays the inter
relation of masterpieces, and weighs past and present achievement
in a delicate balance" (Forms and Renewal, pp. 4-5).
Pound emphasizes that the critical standards for identifying
and judging masterwork cannot be dependent on cultural bias or
current taste. He objected to the use of Greek classical models and
standards as a sole basis for evaluating art, then the cricital
vogue among London's educated art circles. Pound disassociates
himself from such limited preferences:
The modern renaissance, or awakening, is very largely
due to the fact that we have ceased to regard a work of
art as good or bad in accordance with whether it approaches
or recedes from the "Antique" the "classical" models. We
have come to recognize that the Greek work was not a
uniform and unattainable perfection, but that out of a lot
of mediocre work . . . there remain certain masterpieces
to be set apart and compared with other masterpieces from
Egypt and from India and from China, and possibly from the
south seas and other districts equally remote from Victorian
or Pateresque culture.^
32
The Head of Aphrodite, the "Anadyomene in the opening/Pages of
Reinach," represents such a masterpiece. "Out of a lot of mediocre
work" it remains as a work "to be set apart and compared with other
masterpieces" from other centuries, other cultures.
Pound subtly draws such a comparison in the third stanza of
"Medallion":
Honey-red, closing the face-oval,
A basket-work of braids which seem as if they were
Spun in King Minos1 hall
From metal, or intractable amber;
Reinach describes the excavation on the island of Crete of "the
ancient palace which the Greek legend described as the habitation of
King Minos, and called the Labyrinth" (Apollo, p. 32). During the
Minoan Period of King Minos's reign, the civilization "was character
ized by a rapid advance in the arts of design and of work in metal"
(p. 32). Reinach includes a photograph of the fresco, "Young Cretan
Girl" (fig. 39, p.33), to exemplify the high quality of the arts
during King Minos's era. He describes the artistry revealed in this
head with admiration: "A woman's face in profile is so modern in
treatment that we should hesitate to attribute it to the sixteenth
century before Christ, if there were any room for doubt in the matter
. . ."(p. 34). The head of this "Young Cretan Girl" remains, in this
century, as indisputable testament to the superior aesthetic attain
ments in Minoan civilization. It serves as evidence that masterwork
can be recognized and acknowledged in this pre-classical art, in
spite of modern prejudices that would "hesitate to attribute" (p. 34)
33
it to such an early age. In "Medallion," Pound subtly draws compari
sons between the Head of Aphrodite, sculptured around 400 B.C. with
the fresco from the Palace of Knossos, discovered in King Minos's
hall and dated before 1500 B.C. Both of these ancient works are
linked, by allusion, to the portrait within Medallion." This tech
nique forces us to employ the method of judging art that Pound
desires and enacts in his own work.
The head of the Young Cretan Girl, painted in fresco in the
palace of King Minos; the Head of Aphrodite, sculpted in marble by
Praxiteles; and the head of the singer, described in "Medallion's"
verse, each represents a different medium of artistic expression.
Each emerges from a different age; each outlasts its original cultural
milieu. Each work represents an advance in techniques. Just as the
Head of Aphrodite marks a change in the shape of the face, in the
use of light and shadow, in the modelling of the eyes and hair; and
the allusion to King Minos points to the "rapid advance in the arts
of design and of work in metal" (Apollo, p. 32); so "Medallion"
recalls Pound's desire to advance the art of the image, to harden,
metallicize, or marmorealize poetry.
The Image of "Medallion" represents a skillful fusion of the
identifying characteristics of the Head of Aphrodite and the Young
Cretan Girl. Reinach describes the Head of Aphrodite as "the feminine
ideal" conceived by Praxiteles (Apollo, p. 58). The Young Cretan Girl
is characterized by being thoroughly "modern in treatment?'(p. 33). In
"Medallion," Pound presents a portrait to represent such a "feminine
ideal"; but he intends this portrait to be fully "modern in treat
ment." The image in "Medallion," as we shall see, becomes Pound's
idealized woman— his Aphrodite— his Anadyomene, but in fully modern
terms.
Within "Medallion," Pound desires to create an Image, "that
which presents an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant
of time" (Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 86). Pound further explains, "The
image is not an idea. It is a radiant node or cluster . . . from
which, and through which, and into which, ideas are constantly
rushing" (p. 92). Thus, in "Medallion," the porcelain portrait of
the singer appears to be frozen in time and space; but it radiates
ideas. More precisely, it presents a "cluster" of interrelated
images that engender ideas. The Head of Aphrodite, the Young Cretan
Girl, and the concert singer are associated not only as we have seen,
by Pound's aesthetic response to each of them; but also because they
represent Pound's perception of several levels of reality. These
images exemplify Pound's technique of interweaving mythical and his
torical figures with personal experience; they represent an inter
play of different levels of being. In a letter to John Drummond in
1932, Pound wrote about this: "There are only three main planes.
9
. . . Best div. prob. the permanent, the recurrent, the casual."
E. M. Glenn comments that Pound is "referring apparently, to the
subject matter of the early Cantos" ("Guide to Canto II," The Analyst,
No. 18, 4). Yet the reference to Mauberley, immediately following
Pound's remark about "three main planes" makes it plain that
! 35
i
i
| Mauberley, as well as the early Cantos, sets up an interplay of
ilevels of being. E. M. Glenn explains,
In Cantos I and II the permanent level of being is
expressed in the form of gods— for example, Aphrodite.
| To the level of the "recurrent" belong the archetypal
figures of the poem, like Odysseus, Helen, . . .— persons
real and mythological who exemplify basic human types.
The "casual" seems to include whatever happens at random
or without design or regular recurrence: the accidental,
the trivial, or the insignificant particular occurrences
of history or daily life, with all their multiplicity of
attendant detail. . . .
Cantos 1^ and II develop the theme of levels of being
by showing that these planes are interrelated, that the
divine may interpenetrate the other two at any time, and
that types are repeated from age to age (The Analyst,
; pp. 3-4).
In "Medallion," Pound deftly presents these levels of being. The
allusion to the Head of Aphrodite focuses the presence of the gods
land presents the permanent level of being. The allusion to King
Minos recalls the archetypal figures, who exist both historically and
mythically: the Young Cretan Girl painted in "King Minos' Hall"
f l ^
(Possibly King Minos's daughter Ariadne?) asserts the reality of
the ancient civilization whose historical record has been shrouded
by myth. The singing figure we have identified, as Raymonde Collignon
represents the momentary, fragmentary experiences of the "particular
occurrences of history or daily life" (p. 4). Moving between an
appreciation of the moment, recalling the singing girl on the concert
stage, an awareness of the historical-mythical significance of
archetypal figures (such as Minos and Ariadne), and an apprehension
of the nature of the goddess Aphrodite who "may interpenetrate the
36
i
jother two at any time (Analyst, p. 4), Pound renders a complex,
composite portrait. He creates a densely layered, intensely radiant
Image, in "Medallion."
|FOOTNOTES FOR CHAPTER I
1. (New York: New Directions, 1950), p. 181.
j 2. in The Pelican Guide to English Literature: The Modern
Age, ed. Boris Ford (Baltimore, Md.: Penguin Books, 1961), p. 329.
3. The Poetry of Ezra Pound: Forms and Renewal, 1908-1920,
(Berkeley, California: Univ. of Calif. Press, 1969), p. 186.
4. See John Espey, Ezra Pound's Mauberley: A Study in
IComposition, (Berkeley: Univ. of Calif. Press, 1955), pp. 77-78. Mr.
'Espey states, "The most obvious contrast here is the balancing of the
;'Envoi' against the 'Medallion.' The two poems handle the same
; scene • • • • > j
5. William V. Spanos,"The Modulating Voice of Hugh Selwyn
Mauberley," Wise. Studies in Contemporary Lit., VI, 1 (Winter-
Spring, 1965), 94-95.
6 . See Forms and Renewal, pp. 177-83.
7. "Prolegomena," Poetry Review, ed. H. Monroe, Feb., 1912,
I rpt. Literary Essays of Ezra Pound, ed. T. S. Eliot (New York: New
Directions, 1968), p. 12.
j 8. rpt. Literary Essays, p. 379.
9. quoted in "The Later Yeats," rpt. Literary Essays,
Ip. 380.
10. '"Dubliners' and Mr. James Joyce," The Egoist, 1,14
i(July 15, 1914), 267; rpt. Pound/Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound
to James Joyce, ed. Forrest Read (New York: New Directions, 1967),
ip. 27.
11. "The Non-Existence of Ireland," The New Age, XVI, 17
(Feb. 25, 1915), 452; rpt. Pound/Joyce, p. 32.
12. "The Non-Existence of Ireland," rpt. Pound/Joyce, p. 32.
13. Wise. Studies in Contemporary Lit., VI, 1 (Winter-Spring,
1965), 64.
37
14. See "Notes for Performers by William Atheling, with
marginalia emitted by George Antheil," Transatlantic Review, 1 (Feb..
1924), 109; Pound identifies himself as William Atheling. See also
Pound/Joyce, p. 146. Mr. Read reports, "Pound wrote 'Art Notes. By
B. H. Dias1 for The New Age from November 1917 to April 1920. . . .
He had written to his father on January 24, 1918: 'Am doing art and
music critiques under pseudonyms, paying the rent. . . ."'
15. The Egoist, 1,6 (March 16, 1914), 109.
16. Poetry, II, 5 (Feb., 1918); rpt. Literary Essays,
p. 285.
rd and Soft in French Poetry"; rpt. Literary
1915; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 363.
17. "The
Essays, p. 285.
00
P“ 1
1915
19. "The
11, 1913), 577.
2 0. "The
Essays, p. 285; :
2 1. See (
Company, 1960), p. 224. Mr. Norman explains, I asked Pound in 1959,
"Who sang you once that song of Lawes?" He wrote from Rapallo:
"Your question is the kind of damn fool enquiry into what is nobody's
damn business."
22. IV, 11, 60.
23. Atheling, "Music," The New Age, XXVIII, 3 (May 16, 1918),
44.
24. Little Review, March, 1918, p. 60.
25. London, August 29, 1916, rpt. The Letters of Ezra Pound,
1907-1941, ed. D. D. Paige (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World,
Inc., 1950).
26. Letter from London, January 1, 1918; rpt. Letters, p. 127.
27. London, January 29, 1918; rpt. Letters, p. 131.
28. Ezra Pound: Poet as Sculptor, p. 221; reprinted as "The
Poet As Sculptor,'1 in New Approaches to Ezra Pound, ed. Eva Hesse
(London: Fhber and Faber Ltd., 1969), p. 211.
39
29. See Pound, ABC of Reading, (1934; rpt. New York: New
Directions, 1960), pp. 60-61: "The great lyric age lasted while
Campion made his own music, while Lawes set Waller's verse. ..."
30. "Music," The New Age (Aug. 22, 1918), p. 271.
31. quoted by John Espey, Ezra Pound's Mauberley, pp. 30-31.
32. William Atheling, "Music," The New Age, XXVI, 24.
(April 15, 1920), 388.
33. 1914; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 380.
34. "Vorticism," Egoist (Sept., 1914); rpt. Pound, Gaudier-
Brzeska: A Memoir, (1916; rpt. New York: New Directions, 1970),
p. 81.
35. Pound, "The Later Yeats," rpt. Literary Essays, p. 380.
36. Letter from London, January, 1918, in Letters of Ezra
Pound, p. 128.
37. In "Vorticism," Pound declares Imagist poetry is the
"sort of poetry where painting or sculpture seems as if it were
'just coming over into speech,"' See Gaudier-Brzeska, pp. 82-83.
38. Salomon Reinach (1858-1932), scholar and archeologist,
received his Doctor of Laws and Letters degree from the Univ. of
Paris. He published 70 volumes and 5000 articles during his life
time, concerning mainly art, archeology, religion, and philosophy.
Positions held included secretary to the Archeological Commission of
Tunis, Keeper of Museum and titular professor for the Louvre, and
Director of the Musee de Saint-Germain.
39. "The Caressability of the Greeks," The Egoist (March 16,
1914), p. 117.
40. (Berkeley: Univ. of Calif. Press, 1969), p. 148.
41. Apollo (1902; rpt. New York, Charles Scribner's Sons,
1904), p. 271.
42. "Cavalcanti," 1910-1931; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 153.
43. See Apollo, pp. 322-25. Reinach declares the "jPre-
Raphaelite . . . dry and artificial manner . . . could not fail to
provoke weariness and revolt"(p. 323). Reinach cites Whistler's
public quarrel with Pre-Raphaelites Ruskin and Burne-Jones (p. 324).
| 40
I
| 43. (continued)
! Pound, in turn, declares, "Whistler was the only man working in
[England in the 'Eighties' who would have known what we are at and
iwould have backed us against the mob." Pound again reveals his
[affinity with Reinach's opinions of Whistler in section XIV of
"Affirmations": "There is another phase of 'the revolt' as they call
lit, which is also traceable to Whistler. I mean to say, 'art for
:the intelligent.'" ("Affirmations," The New Age, (Feb. 11, 1915);
[rpt. Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 124.)
44. "Affirmations," rpt. Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 115.
45. Pound, The New Age, (May 22, 1913), p. 83.
! 46. London, March 10, 1916; rpt. Letters, pp. 73-4.
47.
205.
Dias, "Art Notes," The New Age, XXVI, 14 (Jan. 29, 1920),
48. "Vorticism," rpt. in Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 81.
49.
p. 388.
William Atheling, "Music," The New Age (April 15, 1920),
50.
17, 1918),
William Atheling, "Music," The New Age, XXIII, 23
396.
(Oct.
51. rpt. Literary Essays, 1914, p. 376.
52.
178.
Atheling, "Music," The New Age, XXVI, 5 (Dec. 4, 1919),
53. Atheling, "Music: Dammerung of the Piano," The New Age,
XXII, 17 (Feb. 21, 1918), 334.
54. "Music," 1918, rpt. Pound, Antheil and the Treatise on
I Harmony (Chicago: Pascal Covici, Inc., 1927), p. 119.
55. rpt. Literary Essays, 1918, p. 433.
56. The Analyst, No. 18, ed. Robert Mayo, Northwestern Univ.,
p. 11.
57. "The Later Yeats," rpt. Literary Essays, p. 380.
58. See Kenner, Poetry of Ezra Pound, p. 181; Davie, Modern
I Age, p. 329; and Witemeyer, Forms and Renewal, p. 186.
i 59. p. 19. See also p. 118 and p. 143.
41
60. "Art Notes," The New Age (July 4, 1918), p. 155.
61. "Correspondence: The Caressability of the Greeks,"
The Egoist (March 16, 1914), p. 117.
62. Letter from Rapallo, Feb. 18, 1932; rpt. in Letters,
p. 239.
63. It may be significant that Ariadne provided the clew of
thread enabling Theseus to escape from the labyrinth. We recall
that Pound believed aesthetic creation originated in "the labyrinths
; of his mind" (The New Age, XXIII, 23, (1918), 396). Emergence from
chaos is a dominant theme in Pound's verse; and as late as Canto
CXVI, Pound seeks "the gold .thread in the pattern" of his verse that
can "lead back to splendour." Id Addendum for Canto C, Pound writes,
Pure Light, we beseech thee
Crystal, we beseech thee
Clarity, we beseech thee
from the labyrinth.
(Drafts and Fragments, p. 29) .
In Canto CXI, Pound envisions "Gold mermaid up from black water
(p. 13), and asks,
How came beauty against this blackness,
Twice beauty under the elms—
• • • • • •
Ariadne
(Cant6 CXVI, Drafts and Fragments, p. 25) •
Reinach reminds us that "King Minos' hall" was called the Labyrinth
(Apollo, p. 32); Pound may well have had some of this in mind when
he chose to allude to King Minos.
CHAPTER II
THE IMAGE IN "MEDALLION"
Literary as well as artistic allusions furnish Pound's image
with multi-leveled associations and multiple meanings. One literary
source which is subtly, covertly recalled in "Medallion," points to
a cohesive theme within the poem, uniting images and the ideas they
engender.
The work of art, the painted or sculpted image, reminds us of
|the artist's pervading vision. Praxiteles' Aphrodite, for example,
I
!embodies the "feminine ideal" (Apollo, p. 58). Daniel Pearlman
i
I
|suggests "the idea of eternal beauty" (The Barb of Time, p. 47) is
j embodied in such goddesses as Aphrodite and in "various mortal women"
j (p. 47). These women are, in turn, recreated in art. Artists's
l
models appear and disappear in a lifetime's brevity. Praxiteles'
Sylvie, Botticelli's Simonetta, or Dante's Beatrice Portinari only
momentarily exist in the world of experience. "Envoi's" singer is
| also short-lived. She cares only "that her graces give/Life to the
moment." The works of art recreating these historical persons sur
vive beyond the merely human; yet the lost work of Praxiteles reminds
us that art is not impervious to change or destruction. Music, art,
literature— all can be lost or destroyed in time. The verse preserv
ing the singer of "Envoi" and "Medallion" is only "Braving time."
42
43
What does remain is the eternal, inspiring ideal. What does remain,
Pound tells us in "Envoi," is "Beauty alone." The image of the
woman-goddess, embodying Beauty, remains elusive, surviving the
i
ravages of time to reappear, again and again, in the aesthetic
creations representing human aspirations toward the ideal. If all
jthings, as we are told in "Envoi," become "Siftings on siftings in
|
Soblivion" . . . "save Beauty alone," what is meant by "Beauty?"
i
| The image of "Medallion" is markedly devoid of physical or
i
isensual appeal. Neither the Young Cretan Girl nor the Head of Aphro-
jdite could be called erotic. The three images seem not to answer to
|the same criteria for physical beauty. Pound, however, confutes
|
;criticism that such work is "sterile," by warning against searching
for the physically appealing or sensually attractive in art.
The trouble with the caressable, the physically attractive,
jelements in art, Pound explains, is that they cannot continue to
S 'i.— .
Iplease solely on the basis of their erotic quality: "The weakness of
i
jthe caressable work of art, of the work of art which depends upon the
i
i
jcaressability of the subject, is incidentally, that its stimulative
ness diminishes as it becomes more familiar."^ Pound certainly does
|not object to the erotic, but he recognizes its limitations in art:
"We all of us like the caressable, but we most of us in the long run
prefer the woman to the statue. . . . That is the trouble with the
caressable in art. The caressable is always a substitute" (p. 97).
Another weakness of the "caressable" work of art is that it cannot be
translated out of one culture into another:
44
Ideals of the caressable vary. In Persia, the Persia
of its romances, the crown of beauty, male or female, goes
to him or her whose buttocks have the largest dimensions.
And we all remember the Hindoo who justified his desire
for fatness with the phrase "same money, more wife."
Ideals change, even the ideals of the caressable are
known to have altered. Note, for example, the change
I in the ballet and in indecent illustrations. Twenty years
i ago, the ideal was one with large hips and bosom. To-day
| the ideal is more "svelte" (Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 97).
|In his article "The Caressability of the Greeks," Pound complains
I
!about the idolizing of Greek art that he encountered throughout
|London's intellectual milieu. Pound wished to wrench away from the
j
jaccepted classical, "caressable" models in order to widen aesthetic
I
!awareness to include masterpieces completed in other civilizations,
land based on values other than those of the Greek ideal: "Regarding
I
|this pother about the Greeks: Some few of us are at last liberated
|from the idea that 'THE BEAUTIFUL1 is the caressable, the physically
i
! 2
attractive. Art is not particularly concerned with the caressable."
I Pound's position against the "caressable" goals in art is intimately
Itied to his desire for universal criteria for judging masterwork.
Pound warns, "You will never awaken a general or popular art sense so
long as you rely solely on the pretty, that is, the "caressable"
!(p. 117).
j
! The cold, forbidding singer of "Medallion" surely does not
rely on what Pound calls "caressability" in order to project beauty.
jPound believes that Beauty can be recognized and appreciated when
j
|embodied in works of art without reference to our senses or to our
i
i
|cultural values. But if Beauty is not necessarily related to physi-
I
'cal qualities or societal admirations, how can it be defined or
45
translated into various cultures? If, as Pound claims, "All things
save Beauty alone" can be changed or destroyed by time, what is
"Beauty?"
i These questions are presented and probed in a work that Pound
| admired and subtly alludes to in "Medallion": James Joyce's A Por-
i trait of the Artist as a Young Man. In "Medallion," echoing phrases
|
| and images link the portrait of the porcelain singer with the dis-
| cussion of the Beautiful in the last chapter of A Portrait.
t
j Pound reveals the impression Joyce's work made on him in an
|early letter to Joyce: "I have just read the splendid end of 'The
I
j
iPortrait of the Artist,' and if I try to tell you how fine it is, I
i
3
ishall only break out into inane hyperbole." Pound continues his
|praise, "Anyhow I think the book hard, perfect stuff" (p. 44); and he
I
|praises "A Portrait" for its intellectual content as well as for the
I
!verbal facility of the author: "I think you must soon, or at least
j sooner or later get your recognition. . . . And it is such a comfort
j
|to find an author who has read something and knows something" (pp.
144-45).
i •
| In "Medallion," Pound subtly alludes to Joyce's "Portrait" of
i
Stephen Daedalus. The allusion to King Minos and to the artifacts
made, or "Spun in King Minos' hall" reminds us of the most famous
artificer of that mythical-historical hall: Daedalus. In "The
Phantom Dawn," Pound discusses the account of Daedalus in Ovid's
Metamorphoses: "In Crete, in the reign of Minos, to take a definite
instance, Daedalus is constructing the first monoplane. . . Ovid
46
writes in witness of Daedalus' skill as a mechanic, that observing
the backbone of a fish, he had invented the first saw; it might be
the incident of Newton and the apple. On the whole there is nothing
that need excite our incredulity. The inventor of the saw invents
an aeroplane."^ Pound praises the verisimilitude of Ovid's descrip-
I tion of Daedalus: "The marvellous thing is made plausible, the gods
!
I are humanized, their annals are written as if copied from a parish
| register; their heroes might have been acquaintances of the author's
S father" (p. 15). In "Medallion," Pound attempts the same sort of
i
: presentation— his objective images and dispassionate description mask
I the visionary experience he records. Here, "The marvellous thing is
i
i made plausible." Adapting the objective tone of Ovid's account,
| Pound also suggests the marvelous. The artisan who could have "Spun
i in King Minos' hall" the "Medallion" singer's "basket-work of braids"
; is Daedalus. And Joyce's Stephen Dedalus— a poet, weaving words,
; spinning verse, wondering, imagining, creating— serves as the modern
i
j version of the mythical artisan: "You are an artist, are you not,
| Mr. Dedalus?" said the dean. . . . The object of the artist is the
I
! creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another
i
!
question.
In a conversation with Lynch, Stephen Dedalus attempts to
j
J present his definition of beauty. He recognizes and discusses the
difficulties of accounting for varying cultural tastes in defining
beauty; and his examination of the problem recalls Pound's similar
I observations. Lynch, addressing Stephen, asks, "let me hear what you
47
call beauty" (p. 471). Stephen responds with a description of art:
"from sound and shape and colour which are the prison gates of our
soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand— that is art"
(p. 472). Lynch replies, "But you have not answered ray question. . . .
jWhat is art? What is the beauty it expresses?" (p. 472). "Art,"
| Stephen continues, "is the human disposition of sensible or intelli-
!
| gible matter for an esthetic end" (p. 472). He notes that Aquinas
i
I
! "says that is beautiful the apprehension of which pleases," (p. 473);
land Lynch agrees, "Pulcra sunt quae visa placent" (p. 473). There-
: fore, Stephen continues, "The first step in the direction of beauty
i
| is to understand the frame and scope of the imagination, to comprehend
i the act itself of aesthetic apprehension" ("A Portrait," p. 473).
Aesthetic apprehension, visa, Stephen has asserted, occurs in stasis,
ibeyond "good and evil, which excite desire and loathing" (p. 473);
j
You would not write your name in pencil across the
! hypotenuse of a rightangled triangle.
| — No, said Lynch, give me the hypotenuse of
the Venus of Praxiteles (p. 473).
j
j Throughout their discussion, Lynch serves as a foil for Stephen's
I
| ideas, just as Mauberley will serve Pound. Lynch's conception of
|beauty is physical attractiveness; his response to Stephen's theoriz
ing is pragmatic; his response to art is sensual:
— But what is beauty? asked Lynch impatiently.
Out with another definition. Something we see and
like.' Is that the best you and Aquinas can do?
— Let us take woman, said Stephen.
--Let us take her.' said Lynch fervently.
Stephen explains that there are two ways to explain the variety of
responses to "beauty":
48
The Greek, the Turk, the Chinese, the Copt, the
Hottentot, said Stephen, all admire a different type
of female beauty. That seems to be a maze out of which
we cannot escape. I see, however, two ways out. One
is this hypothesis: that every physical quality admired
by men in women is in direct connexion with the manifold
functions of women for the propagation of the species.
It may be so. . . . For my part I dislike that way out.
It leads to eugenics rather than to esthetic. It leads
you out of the maze into a new gaudy lectureroom where
I MacCann, with one hand on The Origin of Species and the
| other hand on the new testament, tells you that you
admired the great flanks of Venus because you felt that
! she would bear you burly offspring and admired her great
! breasts because you felt that she would give good milk
; to her children and yours (p. 474).
I
j The other explanation involves the aesthetic definition of the
j
i beautiful:
I — This hypothesis, Stephen repeated, is the other way
out; that, though the same object may not seem beautiful
i to all people, all people who admire a beautiful object
j find in it certain relations which satisfy and coincide
! with the stages themselves of all esthetic apprehension.
S These relations of the sensible, visible to you through one
| form and to me through another, must be therefore the
necessary qualities of beauty.
I
| "The most satisfying relations of the sensible," repeats Stephen,
| "must therefore correspond to the necessary phases of artistic
iapprehension" (p. 477). To identify these phases, "we can return to
i our old friend Saint Thomas" (p. 475): "Aquinas says; Ad pulcritu-
!
i dinem tria requiruntur integritas, consonantia, claritas. I translate
i
it so: Three things are needed for beauty, wholeness, harmony and
radiance" (p. 478). The illustration Stephen uses to demonstrate
j these stages of apprehension and therefore, perception of beauty,
i adumbrates thd stages of development in "Medallion's" verse. The
j
| movement and the images of "Medallion" echo, subtly, but perceptibly,
49 ]
Stephen Dedalus's emperical example of the apprehension of beauty: |
Stephen pointed to a basket which a butcher's
boy had slung inverted on his head.
— Look at that basket, he said.
— I see it, said Lynch.
— In order to see that basket, said Stephen, your !
mind first of all separates the basket from the
rest of the visible universe which is not the basket (p. 478).
In "Medallion," attention focuses on the singer's face by the demar
cation of the head from the surrounding scene. "The sleek head
emerges" from its environment; the "Honey-red" hair defines "the face-
oval." Like the butcher boy's basket "inverted on his head," the
"Medallion" singer's hair is a "basket-work of braids"; it separates
the head of the singer "from the rest of the visible universe" (A
Portrait, p. 478). Although in "Medallion," the head of the singer
becomes the "object to be apprehended," Pound subtly alludes to
Joyce's image of the basket in his description of the singer's
"basket-work of braids." Pound tells us that this "basket-work"
becomes the "suave bounding-line" for the head of the singer. Pound
interprets Joyce's discussion for his own purposes; he helps the
reader focus attention on the "object to be apprehended": the head
(not the body), by providing us with the bounding line of braids.
As Stephen says:
— An esthetic image is presented to us either in space
or in time . . . what is visible is presented in space.
But temporal or spatial, the esthetic image is first
luminously apprehended as selfbounded and selfcontained
upon the immeasurable background of space or time which
is not it. . . . You apprehend it as one thing, You see
it as one whole. . . . That is integritas (p. 478).
The second phase of aesthetic apprehension and its corresponding
50
property of universal beauty constitutes "consonantia":
— Then said Stephen, you pass from point to point, led
by its formal lines; you apprehend it as balanced part
against part within its limits; you feel the rhythm of
its structure. In other words, the synthesis of immediate
perception is followed by the analysis of apprehension.
. . . You apprehend it as complex, multiple, divisible,
separable, made up of its parts, the result of its parts
and their sum, harmonious. That is consonantia (p. 479).
Donald Davie suggests that the "synthesis of immediate perception"
(in a note to me, December, 1971) is signaled in "Medallion" with
"Luini in porcelain!" The "esthetic image is first luminously
apprehended" as "The sleek head emerges." The analysis of apprehen
sion occurs in "Medallion" through allusion and reflection. The
description of "Medallion's" singer instantly reveals the poet's
awareness of the complexity of his image as well as his realization
of its sum. We shall see the constituent parts forming his image as
well as their total significance.
The third term, claritas, which Stephen has translated as
radiance, he explains, must be ultimately interpreted through per
sonal experience. "When we come to the phenomena of artistic concep
tion, artistic gestation and artistic reproduction," Stephen warns,
"I require a new terminology and a new personal experience" (p. 475)
Aquinas uses a term which seems to be inexact. It
baffled me for a long time. It would lead you to believe
that he had in mind symbolism or idealism, the supreme
quality of beauty being a light from some other world,
the idea of which the matter was but the shadow, the
reality of which it was but the symbol. I thought he
might mean that claritas was the artistic discovery and
representation of the divine purpose in anything or a
force of generalization which would make the esthetic
image a universal one, make it outshine its proper
51
conditions. But that is literary talk. I understand it
so. When you have apprehended that basket as one thing
and have then analysed it according to its form and
apprehended it as a thing you make the only synthesis
| which is logically and esthetically permissible. You
j see that it is that thing which it is and no other thing.
The radiance of which he speaks is the scholastic quidditas,
the whatness of a thing. This supreme quality is felt by
the artist when the esthetic image is first conceived in
his imagination. The mind in that mysterious instant
I Shelley likened beautifully to a fading coal. The
! instant wherein that supreme quality of beauty, the clear
I radiance of the esthetic image, is apprehended luminously
[ by the mind which has been arrested by its wholeness and
fascinated by its harmony is the luminous silent stasis
of esthetic pleasure, a spiritual state very like to that
| cardiac condition which the Italian physiologist Luigi
! Galvani, using a phrase almost as beautiful as Shelley's,
called the enchantment of the heart (p 479).
I
i
j "Medallion" is the poetic recreation and articulation of such a
j
I moment of apprehension. The image of the singer, serene and supreme
I in her silent and still surroundings, is the poet's assertion and
i
j representation of his experience, of "the luminous silent stasis of
I
! aesthetic pleasure." The suggestive echoing of these passages in
| "Medallion," however, does not mean that Pound adopted or even wished
i
| to advocate Joyce's practice of discussing aesthetic matters at a
I high level of generalized abstraction. Pound was probing traditional
; literary concepts of "the beautiful" long before he read Joyce: In
I
|his essay "Dante," Pound related Dante's and Coleridge's descriptions
of beauty:
In this same canto Dante anticipates Coleridge's
| most magical definition of beauty— Ka.Aev q u a .*/
j y „ J o iltr— in lines 97-102 (Canto XXIII):
j Whatever melody most sweetly soundeth on earth,
and doth most draw the soul unto itself, would seem
a rent cloud's thundering, compared to the sound of
that lyre, whereby is crowned that sapphire whereby
! the clearest heaven is ensapphired.^
Coleridge's discussion of "beauty" occurs in his essay "On the Prin
ciples of Genial Criticism Concerning the Pine Arts": " The Beautiful
! arises from the perceived harmony of an object, whether sight or sound
j with the inborn and constitutive rules of the judgement and imagina-
! tion: and it is always intuitive. . . . Hence the Greeks called a
I beautiful object IfnLdu quasi jrfaXoOtf» i.e., calling on the
Q
j soul. . . . Though aware of philosophical inquiries, such as
i Colerigde's, into the nature of beauty, Pound decidedly refused to
adhere to any formulations or conclusions defining abstract concepts.
! In the preface to A Quinzaine for This Yule (1909), Pound had de-
: tached himself from any explicit definitions of "beauty":
j Beauty should never be presented explained. It is
Marvel and Wonder, and in art we should find first these
doors— Marvel and Wonder— and, coming through them, a
slow understanding (slow even though it be a succession
| of lightning understandings and perceptions) as of a
i figure in mist, that still and ever gives to each one
his own right of believing, each after his own creed
and fashion.^
| Instead of exploring theoretical explanations in his criticism, Pound
! presents examples. For instance, instead of formulating a definition
j of "beauty," Pound differentiates two types of "beauty" in terms of
i personal experience:
There are two kinds of beautiful painting one may
perhaps illustrate by the works of Burne-Jones and
Whistler; one looks at the first kind of painting and
is immediately delighted by its beauty; the second
kind of painting, when first seen, puzzles one, but
on leaving it, and going from the gallery one finds
new beauty in natural things— a Thames fog, to use
the hackneyed example. Thus, there are works of art
which are beautiful objects and works of art which
53
are keys or passwords admitting one to a deeper know
ledge, to a finer perception of beauty; Dante's work
is of the second sort ("Dante," Spirit of Romance,
p. 154).
Pound's method in his poetry is to present experience, or an emblem
of such experience, so that it "still and ever gives to each one his
own right of believing, each after his own creed and fashion."'*'®
And this is directly related to his presentation of the forma.
Donald Davie, in "The Poet As Sculptor," uncovers Pound's use of the
forma and explains,
It is plain that, speaking at all strictly, the
forma and the concept are distinct . . . the one form,
can be, as it were, separated out into several distinct
concepts. . . . The one pattern informs all these
different manifestations. And the point to be made is
that Pound in the Cantos characteristically aims at re
creating not the concept, any or all of [sic_2 them,
but rather the forma, the thing behind them and common
to them all. By arranging sensory impressions he aims
to state, not ideas, but the form behind and in ideas,
the moment before that 'fine thing held in the mind'
has precipitated out now this idea, now that.
In "Medallion," Pound aims to recreate the forma.
Pound's fugitive echoing of Joyce's discussion of "beauty"
presumably is intended to direct our attention to a consideration of
"beauty." In order to encourage appreciation and understanding of
the sort of "beauty" he is presenting in "Medallion," Pound has to
guide the reader away from the "caressable" or physically appealing
image to the aesthetically pleasing form. He must guide the reader
from his response to the vibrant, sensuous singer of "Envoi" towards
an appreciation of the inanimate, forbidding figure of "Medallion."
And the chief obstacle to this is what is called "beauty" in "the
54
marketplace": "One difficulty, said Stephen, in esthetic discussion
! is to know whether words are being used according to the literary
| tradition or according to the tradition of the marketplace" (A
| Portrait, p. 450). When Mauberley complains, in Section III of Hugh
Selwyn Mauberley that "We see T& ft.aX'nv /Decreed in the market
! place," he reveals that he is unaware of the type of beauty that
j Joyce discusses in A Portrait and that Pound realized in Medallion."
; Mauberley becomes
I
i Incapable of the least utterance or composition,
; Emendation, conservation of the "better tradition,"
j Refinement of medium, elimination of superfluities,
August attraction or concentration,
i
| partially because he is unaware of the heritage of the "better tradi-
i
j tion": the re-creation of beauty that supersedes sensual appeal.
; Not recognizing "beauty" that is entirely distinct from beauty dis-
j cussed or "Decreed in the market place," Mauberley is unable to
! recognize "works of art which are keys or passwords admitting one to
ja deeper knowledge, to a finer perception ..." ("Dante," Spirit of
i
| Romance, p. 154). Joyce emphasizes the difference between the two
I types of "beauty" by having Stephen Dedalus repeat the distinction
j
|near the end of A Portrait: "— What I have said, he began again,
refers to beauty in the wider sense of the word, in the sense which
the word has in the literary tradition. In the marketplace it has
another sense ..." (p. 480). This distinction is highly relevant
to "Medallion," because the poem can communicate with the reader only
!
|if the reader perceives the kind of "beauty" it contains. By calling
55
the passages from A Portrait into the reader's consciousness, Pound
promotes the reader's awareness of the ambiguities in the word
"Beauty," thus prompting individual consideration and comprehension
of "Medallion's" virth.
The number of ideas that converge in the image of "Medal
lion's" singer becomes more apparent as each layer of allusive associa
tion is probed. Eva Hesse, in the introduction to New Approaches to
Ezra Pound, discusses the demands Pound's technique makes on the
reader as well as the rewards reaped by penetrating the verse to its
1 9
substrata of meaning:
The seminal images, g \k d 'v £ f » are not intended to
impart specific knowledge as much as a certain almost
sensual quality of knowledge, and to implant this at a
depth at which it will influence the assimilation of
all subsequently acquired information. . ..
The leap in communication demanded by Pound's device
of the forma (cf. Donald Davie, pp. 210-14) is consider
able, for it confronts the reader not with an idea but
with an early phase of ideation in which the image has
not yet developed beyond 'a radiant node or cluster . . .' |
'Otherwise expressed, it is that vortex of ideas which
draws the reader personally' into the creative process. . ..
If poetry at the level of the forma does not follow
a thought through to the end but stops at the penultimate
phase of ideation, the reader is necessarily forced to
complete the thought process . . . a process that takes
place in the reader's mind where the poem's language
gives rise to imagery that in turn creates for him an
overall texture of meaning (pp. 14-16).
Pound's subtle acknowledgement of Joyce's discussion of aesthetic art
in "Medallion" may place exorbitant demands on the reader's knowledge
and memory; but the claims on the reader's concentration are entirely
consistent with the difficulties now expected as an inextricable
dimension of Pound's verse. For example, Eva Hesse notes that Pound
blends "the metaphoric overtones of words and their multiple corres
pondences into an intricate fabric of meanings, thereby recovering
Ifor poetry the full echo area of each word" (pp. 47-8). And Christine
I
iBrooke-Rose, in her essay "Lay Me by Aurelie," demonstrates how Pound,
|in the Rock Drill Cantos, repeatedly concentrates and telescopes
imultiple meanings into few words. ^ He has, for example, "here
jtelescoped a whole year of lost kingship and bad government into one
jsentence" (p. 263). She also points out Pound's publicly stated
i
idesire to create poetry that does require the reader's active intel-
l
lectual participation. In Money Pamphlets byjf , (1944, Venice), Pound
I
'asserted, "I hope the reader has not 'understood it all straight off.'
jl should like to invent some kind of typographical dodge which would
jforce every reader to stop and reflect for five minutes (or five
jhours), to go back to the facts mentioned and think over their signi-
i
ficance for himself "(p- 242). Pound's attitude towards the
jreader who will not work to interpret his writings is clear from a
Iwhimsical anecdote, published in the Little Review, April, 1918:
j
;"Art," said the chimpanzee, "which I have to study before I can under-
! stand it, is fatally lacking somewhere." "Upon this principle,"
j {sic^ said the chimpanzee, "we must reject Mr. Browning's
jSordello.E. M. Glenn relates Pound's technique in the early
Cantos to Browning's technique of extreme condensation in Sordello,
where "the meaning that any line or group of lines is intended to
convey is far in excess of its verbal indication."^ This method of
condensation, requiring the reader to explore the associative and
! 57
I
|suggestive range of words, also operates in "Medallion." Sordello,
Showever, is linked to "Medallion" in another way. If we now move
from Stephen Dedalus's discussion of "beauty" in A Portrait of the
i Artist to the virtu of Browning's Sordello we are not straying so far
afield as may appear. Both lead, through "Medallion," to a common
heritage: the literature of the Middle Ages.
Pound asserts Browning's debt to the Middle Ages in his essay
:"Dante": "Browning is perhaps the only widely read modern who has
realized this phase of the Middle Ages, and he has hidden his know
ledge in an unread poem, Sordello" (Spirit of Romance, p. 132).
Joyce's grounding in the Middle Ages is revealed in Stephen Dedalus's
reference to medieval scholasticism— particularly to Thomas Aquinas.
Pound, in a letter to John Quinn, acknowledges the relevance of his
studies of medieval literature to his understanding of A Portrait:
Re. what you say of the book's being most intelligible
to Irish Catholics . . .
I am neither Irish nor Catholic, but I have had
more mediaeval contact than most, through Dante and
my Provenyal. I have read a 12th Century Provencal
sermon about hell— same model as the one in The
! Portrait. . . . It may be ray having read Dante and
a few paragraphs of Richard St. Victor, and Guido
Cavalcanti, that makes me So much readier to take in
the novel than some other people seem to be . . . I
also wonder . . . if his hardness isn't a direct
development from the love of hardness bred by reading
Dante, or possibly in his case, Aquinas. (I have not
read Aquinas, but I have looked through a good book
of scholastic logic, by something-Agricola.
Pound's response to Browning' Sordello, and to Joyce's "Portrait,"
; in his eyes, was influenced, in part, by his own interest in the
! Middle Ages. Pound's medieval interests are evident in "Medallion";
58
jhe infuses into "Medallion" knowledge derived from his early pre-
I
ioccupation with the Middle Ages.
i Noel Stock, in The Life of Ezra Pound, records that as an
undergraduate at Hamilton College, Pound began his studies of
! medieval Romance literature. One of Pound's professors, "William
j Pierce Shepard, Professor of Romance Languages and Literature, not
i
i only introduced him to French, Italian, and Spanish, but when he saw
I
j that the young man's enthusiasm was backed by ability, gave him free
I
I private tuition in Provenfal" (p. 16). Graduating from Hamilton,
i
| Pound was appointed Harrison Fellow in Romantics, enabling him to
|continue his studies in medieval literature abroad. In the fall of
i
11907, Pound began teaching the Romance languages, French, Spanish,
I
i and Italian, at Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Indiana. With the
I
j abrupt termination of this position four months later, Pound left for
!
| Europe, where his interest in medieval literature remained fervent.
! Noel Stock records Pound's lectures at the Polytechnic institute in
' London (The Life of Ezra Pound, p. 53). The first lecture was to
j ----------------------
]
! deal with "The search for the essential qualities of literature"
i
i It
: (p. 58) stemming from the Dicta of the great critics:— Plato,
!
Aristotle, Longinus, Dante, Coleridge, etc." (p. 58). The second
lecture was entitled "The Rise of Song in Provence"; the third,
"Mediaeval Religious Feeling" (p. 58). Although Pound did not
continue at the Polytechnic, his interest in medieval literature led
j to his first critical book: The Spirit of Romance. In the preface
to The Spirit of Romance, which appeared in the summer of 1911,
jPound states he wishes to study, "certain forces, elements or quali-
|ties which were potent in the mediaeval literature of the Latin
tongues, and are, I believe, still potent in our own” (SR, p. 7).
!
'Pound reveals in his essay "II Miglior Fabbro," that his preoccupa-
j tion with medieval literature may be because "Some temperamental
!
|
|sympathy may prejudice me in favor of this age" (p. 22). He also
i
I
imakes it clear that he believes the foundations of poetry and the
| precedents for his own verse, are to be found in the medieval tradi-
|tion. In the essay "Troubadors— Their Sorts and Conditions," Pound
unaifatains: "if we are to understand that part of our civilization
i
|which is the art of verse, we must begin at the root, and that root
17
is medieval." Pound insists, "Any study of European poetry is
i
I unsound if it does not commence with a study of that art in Provence"
!
I (p. 107). Particular achievements within the Middle Ages fascinated
| Pound: "The Twelfth Century, or more exactly, that century whose
! center is the year 1200, has left us two perfect gifts: the church
i
j of San Zeno in Verona, and the canzoni of Arnaut Daniel; by which I
i
j would implicate all that is most excellent in the Italian-Romanesque
I IQ
i architecture and in Provencal minstrelsy.
|
j "The Culture of Provence," Pound believes, "finds perhaps
its finest expression in the works of Arnaut Daniel" {p. 39). We
j have already noted the relevance of Pound's troubador translations
!
I and studies to "Envoi" and "Medallion." Raymonde Collignon, we recall,
i
served Pound not only as a living model for his image of the singing
figure of both "Envoi" and "Medallion," but also as the instrument by
|which Pound’s translations of the troubador verse could be recreated
t
j
(in concert. She could give ’ ’ Life to the moment” of Pound’s treasured
i
|songs; Pound, in turn, casts her image in verse and grants her a
I
I visionary significance that endures far beyond her original identity
i
;as vehicle for song. The relevance of Pound's re-creations of Daniel
I and the troubador verse is not limited solely to Miss Collignon's
|public presentation of the medieval songs. Raymonde Collignon's
|concert performance may have inspired the image of the singing figure
in "Envoi" and "Medallion," but this image is indubitably imbued with
i
I all the force of the medieval mistress, exalted and revered in
[ *
jmedieval poetry.
j This was nothing new in Pound's work. Pound had continually
(endeavored to acknowledge and to incorporate literary tradition and
heritage in his own early poetry. Hugh Witemeyer discusses at length
:Pound's efforts to absorb and evaluate this tradition within his
;criticism and verse (see Forms and Renewal, pp. 3-22). "Tradition
iis chiefly a resource to the poet," Mr. Witemeyer suggests (p. 22);
and he delineates three basic techniques that Pound uses to "open
!
(multiple perspectives upon tradition" (p. 18) within his poetry:
|"The first and simplest technique is that of allusion" (p. 12). This
S
jpractice has been explored above. A second example of criticism in
new composition' . . . combines allusion with the persona" (p. 15).
This technique is highly relevant to Hugh Selwyn Mauberley and will
be discussed in a subsequent chapter. Though much criticism has
supposed otherwise, I suggest that in "Envoi" and "Medallion" the
persona is not used.
61
Mr. Witemeyer explains the last technique readily discerned
j
j in Pound's early poetry: "A third and still more complex technique
i
j in A Lume Spento combines allusion and the persona with what may be
|
I called 'thematic transformation.' I mean that Pound makes an original
j use of themes and modes of feeling which he has distilled from the
| work of another after careful pondering. He writes 'in the spirit'
!
! of that author without actually translating him" (Forms and Renewal,
j p. 18). As an example, Witemeyer cites Pound's "Villonaud for This
! Yule," about which Pound wrote, "The Villonauds are likewise what I
|
i conceive after a good deal of study to be an expression akin to, if
! not of, the spirit breathed in Villon's own Poeting.Another
j
j extensive and sustained effort to employ this technique occurs in
! Canzoni. In Canzoni, Pound attempts to infuse his verse with the
I essential spirit and meaning of medieval poetry, as he understands it.
20
! Pound's Canzoni appeared in 1911. Canzoni, T. S. Eliot
i noted, "are much more nearly studies in mediaeval appreciation than
| any of his other verse.They are, first of all, studies in the
j metrics and forms of medieval poetry. Hugh Witemeyer also notes
! Pound's experimentation with Provencal forms, but he suggests that
! the infusion of the medieval spirit is intricately bound up, not with
Pound's technical imitations, but with his rendering of the images
and subjects of the medieval poems:
I have purposely neglected the technical aspects of
Canzoni to call attention to its content and imagery.
| Anyone who wishes to know the sources of Pound's verse
! forms will find most of them identified in a series of
62
short notes by Pound himself in Provenya (Boston, 1910).
The Canzoni which employ medieval forms seldom depend
j upon their sources for more than the forms themselves;
! that is, little allusion, cross reference, or "criticism
i in new composition" plays back and forth between Pound's
| poems and the medieval originals" (Forms and Renewal, p. 95).
|"The Canzoni are not simply experiments in medieval metric forms,"
|Witemeyer concludes; "They are serious attempts to imitate the
|medieval sensibility as Pound conceived it" (p. 95).
i Any cursory comparison of Canzoni with the medieval poems
!Pound translated reveals similarities in theme and imagery. The
I
j glorified Lady and her concomitant Love serve as the fulcrum for the
i
poet's speculations about the relationships of love, beloved, and
lover. The theme that is consistently interwoven throughout the
; medieval poems Pound translated, as well as throughout Canzoni, is
| the exploration of the nature of the lady: her relationship to the
affecting force Love and the effect of both on the poet. One example
■ of this theme, expressed first by Cavalcanti and then re-interpreted
| in Pound's verse, occurs in Cavalcanti's sonnet "Chi f e questa?" and
I Pound's response in Canzoni. In Cavalcanti's sonnet, the lady, the
i
! poet claims, can not be interpreted. The poet can only describe her
: appearance and effect; he cannot explain it:
i .
i Who is she coming, drawing all men s gaze,
Who makes the air one trembling clarity
Till none can speak but each sighs piteously
Where she leads Love adown her trodden ways?
Ah, God.' The thing she's like when her glance strays,
Let Amor tell. 'Tis no fit speech for me.
Mistress she seems of such great modesty
That every other woman were called "wrath."
No one could ever tell the charm she hath
63
For toward her all the noble Powers incline,
She being beauty's godhead manifest.
Our daring ne'er before held such high quest;
But ye! There is not in you so much grace
That we can understand her rightfully.^2
! Pound's reply to this sonnet expresses the same central question
i
I
| concerning the nature of the Lady: Who is she coming? And Pound
j
I inquires further; is she an embodiment or an incarnation of Love?
|
! Finally, he asks: What is Love?
j Who is she coming, that the roses bend
i Their shameless heads to do her passing honour?
; Who is she coming with a light upon her
i Not born.of suns that with the day's end end?
! Say is it Love who hath chosen the nobler part?
! Say is it Love, that was divinity,
I Who hath left his godhead that his home might be
I The shameless rose of her unclouded heart?
j If this be Love, where hath he won such grace?
i If this be Love, how is the evil wrought,
I That all men write against his darkened name?
I If this be Love, if this . . .
| 0 mind give peace!
j What holy mystery e'er was noosed in thought?
Own that thou scan'st her not, nor count it shame
(Canzoni, pp. 12-13).
i
Pound poses the questions; he does not advance any answers. We have
already observed in Pound's comments about "Beauty," that "Beauty
! should never be presented explained. It is Marvel and Wondei" (A Lume
! Spento, p. 88). Pound will not impose his interpretation on the.
| reader. Rather, throughout Canzoni, he presents the image that
embodies and recreates his experiential awareness of Love or Beauty.
Like Cavalcanti in "Chi \ questa," who can only "Let Amor tell";
Pound, in Canzoni, tries to let the emotional experience speak for
itself. Thus, the scenes depicted in Canzoni, as Thomas H. Jackson
64
explains, are "the objective embodiment of a psychic occurrence."2^
A full exploration of how Pound has adapted Cavalcanti's sensibility
jis not possible here. Just how deeply Pound's interpretation of
|Cavalcanti's perceptions affected his own mode of perceiving is
i
jsuggested by the poem "To Guido Cavalcanti." Here Pound acknowledges
| his debt to Cavalcanti as well as his preoccupation with "Love" as a
j
mysterious force within his poetry:
| Dante and I are come to learn of thee,
; Ser Guido of Florence and master of us all,
| Love, who hath set his hand upon us three,
! Bidding us twain upon thy glory call.
j
! Wherefore, by right, in this Lord's name we greet thee,
! Seeing we labour at his labour daily,
! Thou, who dost know what way swift words are crossed
j 0 thou, who hast sung till none at song defeat thee,
j Grant.' by thy might and hers of San Michele,
i Thy risen voice send flames this pentecost (Canzoni, p. 11).
| In his introduction to the Cavalcanti translations, Pound also
indicates the extent of Cavalcanti's influence on his own thinking:
j
These are no sonnets for an idle hour. It is only
when the emotions illumine the perceptive that we see
the reality. It is in the light born of this double
current that we look upon the face of the mystery
unveiled. I have lived with these sonnets and ballate
I daily month in and month out, and have been daily drawn
S deeper into them and daily into contemplation of things
that are not of an hour.2^
I
j Pound explicitly links his work with the medieval translations to
| his poems in Canzoni in an early article, "Osiris— Part II." He
i .
j realized that his medieval studies had been allowed to impinge on
my own poetry in 'Canzoni.'"2- 5 To find plentiful evidence for this
in Canzoni is not surprising. What is curious, however, is the
jappearance of this medieval preoccupation in "Medallion.11 The singer
I
(
jof "Medallion" reincarnates the medieval mistress. "Medallion's"
jporcelain singer is Pound's modernization and transformation of the
I ideal, visionary ladies we met in Canzoni.
|
I Pound's style changed considerably after Canzoni. In
j
j Ripostes, published the year after Canzoni appeared, T. S. Eliot
|
I recognized notable differences from Pound's preceding work:
i
i
There are traces of a different idiom. . . . The
diction is more restrained, the flights shorter. . . .
j By romantic readers the book would be considered less
j "passionate." But there is a much more solid substratum
| to this book; there is more thought; greater depth if less
agitation on the surface. The effect of London is apparent;
I the author has become a critic of men, surveying them from
a consistent and developed point of view; he is more
formidable and disconcerting; in short, much more mature. ^
i
i
jOne of the chief explanations of this sudden change, or maturation,
| in Pound's work was revealed years later by Pound himself. Noel
! Stock, in The Life of Ezra Pound reports the incident which marked a
! turning point in Pound's poetic approach: the immediate reaction of
I Ford Madox Ford (Hueffer) to Pound's newly published Canzoni:
i
I "Hueffer when he read the book was so horrified by the artificial
| language that he rolled on the floor. The only account of this event
! is by Pound almost thirty years later in his obituary on Hueffer in
i the August 1939 issue of The Nineteenth Century and After." Hueffer,
I
he says,
felt the errors of contemporary style to the point of
rolling (physically, and if you look at it as mere super
ficial snob, ridiculously) on the floor of his temporary
quarters in Giessen when my third volume displayed me
66
trapped, fly-papered, gummed and strapped down in a jejune
provincial effort to learn, mehercule, the stilted lan
guage that then passed for 'good English' in the arthritic
milieu that held control of the respected British critical
circles . . . that roll saved me at least two years,
perhaps more. It sent me back to my own proper effort,
namely, toward using the living fcongue . . . (p. 103).
In Pound's memory, this incident graphically represents the beginning
of the change in his style. Under Ford Madox Hueffer's tutelage,
Pound formulated the early Imagist values of hardness, clarity, and
precision. In December, 1912, Pound declared: "I would rather talk
poetry with Ford Madox Hueffer than with any man in Iondon. . . . Mr.
Hueffer believes in an exact rendering of things . . . for the sake
of getting a precise meaning. . . . You will find his origins in
Gautier or in Flaubert. He is objective.In this same letter
reporting "the state of things here in London," Pound announces the
advent of the Imagistes, and implicitly links them to Heuffer: "The
youngest school here that has the nerve to call itself a school is
that of the Imagistes . . . one of their watchwords is Precision"
(p. 127). In a letter to Harriet Monroe from Coleman's Hatch,
January 1, 1915, Pound describes his theories of Imagism in detail
(see Letters, pp. 48-49). In 1937, he added this note: "it should
be realized that Ford Madox Ford had been hammering this point of
view into me from the time I first met him (1908 or 1909) and that I
owe him anything that I don't owe myself for having saved me from
the academic influences then raging in London."^® Pound's respect for
Ford's judgment accounted for the immediate and pronounced changes in
poetry following Canzoni. Yet, although Pound's language and style
67
changed, his interest in medieval poetry did not. His presentation
jof the visionary, feminine ideal is transformed, but not supplanted,
in "Medallion." The identifying vestiges of the ideal lady reappear
in "Medallion." For example, in medieval verse, the eyes of the lady
|
|are described as harbingers of Love. In Sonnet II, Cavalcanti states,
i
|"I saw the eyes, where Amor took his place" (Translations, p. 29).
jIn Ballata X, the poet records, "I see Love grow resplendent in her
eyes" (p. 119). In Sonnet XXXI, Cavalcanti addresses the lady as
"You, who within your eyes so often carry/That Love ..." (p. 87).
|Of Pound's poetry, Hugh Kenner notes, When the goddess "turns up," we
can "identify her by her eyes." In "Medallion," the final focus of
the poem remains on the eyes of the singer.
i
| In medieval verse, Love is identified with a particular light,
i
jwhich ia in.turn associated with the Lady. For example, in Ballata
|
iV, Cavalcanti connects the image of light with the presence of Love:
I
I Both are present within the Lady's eyes. "Light do I see within my
; Lady's eyes/And loving spirits in its plenisphere" (Translations,
p. 107). In "Canzoni: The Spear," Pound adapts this image:
'Tis the clear light of love I praise
That steadfast gloweth o'er deep waters.
A clarity that gleams always . . .
II
That fair far spear of light now lays
Its long gold shaft upon the waters.
VII
The light within her eyes, which slays
Base thoughts and stilleth troubled waters,
Is like the gold where sunlight plays
j Upon the still o'ershadowed waters. (Canzoni, p. 3)
68
The light within the lady's eyes "is like the gold where sunlight
plays," but it is not the light from the sun. The light associated
with the presence of Love and the Lady is self-generating: it is
distinct from the light of day. In "Canzone: Of Angels," for ex-
iample, the visionary lady is enveloped in light that seems to dim
i
|the sun:
Such subtlety of shimmering as beareth
This marvel onward through the crystalline,
j A splendid calyx that about her gloweth,
J Smiting the sunlight on whose ray she goeth (p. 9).
t
(Another characteristic of this light is its golden color. For
|
|example, in "Canzoni: Of Incense,"
!
! Thy gracious ways 0 Lady of my heart, have
O'er all my thought their golden glamour cast;
So on my mailed thought that with thee goeth,
I Though dark the way, a golden glamour falleth (Canzoni, p. 6).
i
jThe image of the golden light to signal the presence of the visionary
lady appears so often, that Hugh Kenner remarked, in response to
Pound's "Epigram II" where the "sky was full of faces with gold
t
| glories behind them" (p. 24), that "The volume as a whole is full of
j faces with gold glories behind them.Not only is the light
I
I associated with the Lady golden, but it may also appear as if it were
woven or entwined. For example, in "The House of Splendour," the
poet encounters his glowing goddess. He has "seen my Lady in the
sun/Her hair was spread about, a sheaf of wings,/And red the sunlight
was, behind it all" (p. 47). He also has seen "her there within her
house," where "Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven,/Strange
ways and walls are fashioned out of it" (p. 47). In this house,
i"There are there many rooms and all of gold" (p. 47). The golden
|
|light surrounding the Lady assumes yet another property in
i
i "Madrigale." The poet finds, "Clear is my love but shadowed/By the
I
S spun gold above her" (p. 8). The relevance of the imagery in these
i
| medieval poems to "Medallion" becomes striking when the character-
| istics of the light are combined: the composite image corresponds to
i the description of the "Medallion's" singer's hair. The golden,
|
j "Honey-red" hair surrounding the face of the singer is woven into
• "A basket-work of braids." The "spun gold above her" in "Madrigale,"
| is transformed in "Medallion" into the "braids which seem as if they
i
! were/Spun." The self-radiating light that in Canzoni had glowed even
i
I in the shadows and had seemed to "smite" sunlight now reappears as
I
i the singer's face looks "Bright" even in the "half-watt rayB1 '^® of
i
! dimmed electric light.
i
j Such a transformation of medieval light imagery in "Medallion"
I
j serves to make the marvelous appear believable. The golden light
framing the singer's face does not exist ex nihilo; it is presented
| simply as the singer's hair. The radiant calyx of light that sheathed
j
j Canzoni's goddesses has become "the gold-yellow frock" from which
the singer's "head emerges." The experience presented in Canzoni,
signaled by the presence of the Lady, has been taken out of the
visionary, ethereal setting and replaced within a more credible
environment.
Hugh Witemeyer has studied in this way the transformation of
70
technique and images, comparing the medieval poems of Canzoni with
later poems that reflect the medieval themes. The break in style
; between the 1911 Canzoni and later poems Mr. Witemeyer maintains, in
! Forms and Renewal, reflects a "conjunction rather than a caesure"
j
I (p. 13). Although he agrees the later poems of Ripostes show a
| greater maturity and a restrained style, he finds "There is no radical
i
! break in the line of Pound's development" (p. 105). Four poems
i
| occurring in Ripostes, Witemeyer notes, are "important 'recapitula-
j
| tions'" (Forms and Renewal, p. 109). They "are variations of Pound's
medievalism, as we have seen it in Canzoni” (p. 109). In "Sub Mare,"
| for example, "the advent of the lady causes familiar alterations in
i
j the speaker's environment; it is of course she who has brought the
|
| 'goldish colour' which transforms his world . . .: Since you have
i
I come this place has hovered round me/This fabrication built of autumn
i
j roses,/Then there's a goldish colour, different" (quoted, p. 109).
1
I "Apparuit," which Witemeyer calls "perhaps the most beautiful of
|
i
Pound's ideal ladies” (p. 109), forms a connecting link between the
! visionary ladies in Canzoni and the singer in "Medallion":
| Golden rose the house, in the portal I saw
j thee, a marvel, carven in subtle stuff, a
I portent. . . .
I • • • • • • • • *
Half the graven sholder, the throat aflash with
strands of light inwoven about it, loveliest of
all things, frail alabaster, ah me!
swift in departing.
"This apparition," Witemeyer notes, "possesses the standard accoutre-
j
ments of Pound's goddesses (p. 110). She also pre-figures Medal
lion's singer. The image of gold, forming the background for the
I woman; the concept of her as "carven" and "graven"; the perception
!
| of her as "frail alabaster"— all point to the porcelain singer con
ceived as a "china image" even as she is simultaneously presented as
the graven figure of a medallion. The difference between this lady
I of "Apparuit" and preceding ladies of Canzoni is that the setting of
j
I the later poem is not completely removed from an earthly environment.
| Thomas Jackson notes, "The ambiguity of the poem turns upon its
!creating a heavily mystical atmosphere without removing the experience
|
|completely from an effective human context. There is nothing in the
|poem which precludes its being an account of a beautiful girl glimpsed
!
■briefly from a London bus."^ Of course, Mr. Jackson admits that the
!
jimagery of the poem, "The exalted tone of his description (the de-
|
|liberately mannered vocabulary of portal, carven in subtle stuff, and
|the like) cast over her obviously supernatural suggestions" (pp. 234-
]35). That the girl, briefly envisioned, perhaps in a mundane setting,
was intended to convey more than the poet's immediate impression of
I her appearance is confirmed by the title, "Apparuit." As Hugh Wite
meyer points out, "'Apparuit1 echoes the words of Dante's 'spirito
j
janimale' when he first sees Beatrice in La Vita Nuova (II); the
I spirit says 'Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra' ('your beatitude now
I
|appears')" (Forms and Renewal, p. 110). In "Medallion" also, the
reader is given the clue that the singer's appearance denotes more
than a detailed impression of a brief moment of her concert perfor
mance: She is explicitly linked to the poet's awareness of Aphrodite,
,"Anadyomene." Although there is nothing in the description of the
! singer's environment that necessarily removes it from the setting of
|the concert stage, the allusions to the mythical goddess Aphrodite
and to the mythical-historical "King Minos' hall" give the scene
visionary proportions. "Apparuit" indicates the direction of the
’changes taking place in Pound's setting and description of the vision
ary lady; yet "Apparuit" is not the first poem that provides us with
a glimpse of the "Medallion" singer to come. The ancestry of not
only "Medallion," but of Hugh Selwyn Mauberley as well, can be traced
;to a series of poems in Canzoni.
In a series of twelve poems entitled, "Und Drang," Pound
;presents a sustained view of his immediate environment as well as of
his medieval, ethereal world. Hugh Witemeyer notes that this series
contrasts the medieval sensibility to the modern: "'Und Drang' now
tests the relevance of medieval values in the modern world" (Forms
and Renewal, p. 95). In the first five poems, Pound presents "the
confusion and malaise of modern life" (p. 96). Here, the speaker
bewails the fragmented, unsatisfying, even destructive nature of his
present environment:
V
How our modernity,
Nerve-wracked and broken, turns
Against time's way and all the way of things (Canzoni, p. 46).
The sense of chaos, disorder, and the feeling of alienation is height
ened in Pound's image of the disarrayed, incomplete tapestry:
j See, and the very sense of what we know
Dodges and hides as in a sombre curtain
Bright threads leap forth, and hide, and leave
no pattern (p. 46).
73
Of the first five poems in "Und Drang," Hugh Witemeyer declares,
j "For all their languor and self-pity, these poems do at least bring
| into Pound's work for the first time the kind of direct commentary
! on contemporary cultural conditions which was to become the principal
I
; motivation of his later poetry" (Forms and Renewal, p. 97). In
contrast, the "last six poems of 'Und Drang' all reaffirm, in their
different ways, an order of values based on Pound's medievalism"
(p. 97). In "The House of Splendour— VII," the poet encounters his
| golden, glowing goddess. His description presents her as an angelic
I vision: He has "seen my Lady in the sun/Her hair was spread about,
! a sheaf of wings" (Canzoni, p. 47). The poet has also "seen her
| there within her house" (p. 47). Her house, however,
j 'Tis Evanoe's,
A house not made with hands,
But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways
Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven;
Strange ways and walls are fashioned out of it (p. 47).
Hugh Witemeyer notes that this poem "presents a radiant vision of the
beloved lady which explicitly transcends time and space" (Forms and
Renewal, p. 97).
"The Flame— VIII" also presents an explicit assertion of
values that the poet identifies with medieval poetry:
'Tis not a game that plays at mates and mating,
Provence knew;
We who are wise beyond your dream of wisdom,
Drink our immortal moments; we "pass through."
We have gone $orth beyond your bonds and borders,
Provenpe knew.
We of the Ever-living, in that light
Meet through our veils and whisper, and of love (p. 48).
74
What "Provenqe knew" and what the poet claims to have also apprehended,
|is the nature of Love. "Not a game that plays at mates," it is the
mysterious experience conveying the initiated "beyond your bonds and
jborders." Of this poem, High Witemeyer observes that medieval "values
;are asserted even more aggressively. Here Pound gives a 'visionary
}
j interpretation' of Provencal chivalric love which is far more dog-
jmatic than his discussion in 'Psychology and Troubadours"' (Forms and
!Renewal, p. 98). The final poem of the "Und Drang" series reveals
jPound's deviation from the medieval sensibility. Although "The House
!of Splendour" and "The Flame" assert that the poet has shared the
:visionary love experience celebrated in the medieval poetry, "Au
!Jardin" presents Pound's interpretation of that experience's relevance
i
|to his everyday world. The visionary, ideal lady glorified in verse
I does not correspond fully to any actual woman. In contrast to the
i
|jester of Yeats's poem, "The Cap and Bell," the poet of "Au Jardin"
commits not his life, but his songs only to the lady. Pound's
j
J"jester" recognizes the difference between the living lady before him
i
i
jand the "forma," the ideal form lying behind any verbalization or
I
jembodiment of his visionary experience of "Love." In Yeats's poem,
| The jester walked in the garden:
i The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul’ , rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.
But the young queen would not listen;
"I have cap and bells," he pondered,
"I will send them to her and die";
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.-*2
In response to his lady's reminder that "The jester walked in the
garden," and in reply to the Yeatsian demonstration of love, the poet
of "Au Jardin" retorts:
"The jester walked in the garden."
Did he so?
Well, there's no use your loving me
That way, Lady;
For I've nothing but songs to give you (Canzoni, p. 50).
This garden poet shows he can distinguish very well between the com
mitment to a vision and servitude to the imperfect, impermanent
embodiment of that vision. The destructive, demanding forces threat
ening the poet in his daily existence are distinguished from the
sustaining visionary experience. The poet of "Und Drang" perceives
this distinction: he delineates the modern maladies, yet he can
assert, at the same time, the reality of permanent, positive values.
In "Und Drang," this dual consciousness separates the series of the
first five poems from the last six. The final poem, "Au Jardin"
attempts to bring the two levels of awareness into balance. This kind
of structuring foreshadows Pound's later poetic series. Hugh Wite
meyer explains.
What is even more prophetic in "Und Drang" is the
substance and structure of the series as a whole. Pound's
subject is the contrast between past and present, between
visionary clarity and eviscerated confusion, between
civilization and chaos. His formal structure consists of
an aggregation of separate units, locally unrelated but
contributing in each case some new dimension to the total
meaning of the sequence. It is a dialectic structure
which juxtaposes conflicting values between poems and
within poems, working toward clearer definitions without
arriving at a definitive synthesis. . .. In all of these
76
respects, "Und Drang" anticipates Pound's later and more
famous sequence poems: Propertius, Mauberley, and The
| Cantos. It is Pound's characteristic long poem in
| embryonic form (Forms and Renewal, P. 103).
I
!
| The one poem of the "Und Drang" series that Witemeyer neither
i
I
mentions nor places in either of his categories, is actually the
pivotal poem of the entire series, occupying the central position
among the other poems and marking the division between poems dealing
I with the material, chaotic world and those presenting the medieval,
(visionary world. It also has a direct relationship with "Medallion."
| Poem VI in "Und Drang" presents us with a scene foreshadowing the
i
| setting in "Medallion," and discloses the "Medallion" singer's
I
I
!hereditary origins in images from the modern world:
|
| I thought I had put Love by for a time
And I was glad, for to me his fair face
Is like Pain's face.
| A little light
I The lowered curtain and the theatre!
And o'er the frail talk of the inter-act
Something that broke the jest! A little light,
The gold, and half the profile!
The whole face
Was nothing like you, yet that image cut
Sheer through the moment (Canzoni, p. 46).
The theatre scene reappears as "Medallion's" setting in the concert
hall. The dim light, the golden color, and the feminine profile also
anticipate the singer of "Medallion." The effect of this indelible
yet fleeting ecstatic experience in the theater is demonstrated in
the remaining poems of the "Und Drang" series. Following this moment
of insight, recorded in verse, the poet reasserts the permanence and
reality of the medieval visionary experience. Occurring in the midst
I of the modern world, the microcosmic world of theatre, the image also
j
| transcends it, it "cut/Sheer through the moment." The poet also notes
I
| that the affecting image "Was nothing like you": its force does not
j
| stem/from the relationship he may have with the woman beside him or
I
| confronting him. Like the poet of "Au Jardin," the poet in the
i
theater begins to realize the difference between the human relation
ship possible between man and woman and the visionary experience that
! can be granted the privileged seer. In the central poem of "Und
| Drang" Pound asserts the possibility of the experience that he de-
|
| scribes in his essay "Psychology and Troubadours": "Yet there is, in
| what I have called the 'natural course of events,1 the exalted moment,
i the vision unsought, or at least the vision gained without machina-
j tion."^3 in this same essay, Pound suggests his explanation for the
| particular affecting force of the medieval lady. Quoting Piere
jVidal's, "Good Lady, I think I see God when I gaze on your delicate
|
| body," (p. 96), Pound suggests that the Lady focuses the troubador's
contemplation of the divine:
Richard St. Victor has left us one very beautiful
| passage on the splendors of paradise.
They are ineffable and innumerable and no man having
beheld them can fittingly narrate them or even remember
i them exactly. Nevertheless by naming over all the most
| beautiful things we know we may draw back upon the mind
j some vestige of the heavenly splendor.
| I suggest that the troubadour, either more indolent
of more logical, progresses from correlating all these
details for purpose of comparison, and lumps the matter.
The Lady contains the catalogue, is more complete. She
serves as a sort of mantram (p. 97).
Pound, in this observation, seems to have answered the questions
j
i
I_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___
regarding the nature of the chivalric love cult that he posed earlier
in the same essay: "The problem, in so far as it concerns Provence,
|is simply this: Did this 'chivalric love,1 this exotic, take on
imediumistic properties? Stimulated by the color or quality of emotion
'did that 'color' take on forms interpretive of the divine order? Did
jit lead to an 'exteriorization of the sensibility,' and interpreta
tion of the cosmos by feeling?" (Spirit of Romance, p. 94). Pound
I presents an analogous observation concerning the nature of the
jmedieval Lady in his verse as well. In "The Alchemist," first pub
lished in Umbra: The Early Poems of Ezra Pound (London, 1920), but
jdated there as "unpublished 1912," (see Umbra, p. 8) Pound uses the
image of the alchemist's stone to suggest the amalgamation of diverse
|elements that fuses and transforms imperfect matter into a rare,
(precious, perfect substance. "The Alchemist," a "Chant for the Trans-
j
(mutation of Metals," is written as if spoken by the alchemist, who
iis attempting to transform his base metal into gold. He invokes a
(long list of ladies to assist in the process:
|
| Elain, Tiersis, Alcmena
'Mid the silver rustling of wheat,
Agradiva, Anhes, Ardenca,
From the plum-coloured lake, in stillness,
I From the molten dyes of the water
| Bring the burnished nature of fire;
| Briseis, Lianor, Loica . . . (Personae, p. 75).
Pound has explained in his introduction to the translations of Guido
I
j
jCavalcanti's poems that "The equations of alchemy were apt to be
written as women's names and the women so named endowed with the
magical powers of the compounds" (Translations, p. 18).
79
Grouping the ladies' names finally into the general term
| "Midonz,"^ the alchemist implores,
Midonz, with the gold of the sun, the leaf of the
poplar, by the light of the amber,
i Midonz, daughter of the sun, shaft of the tree,
| silver of the leaf, light of the yellow of the amber
! Midonz, gift of the God, gift of the light, gift of
i the amber of the sun,
| Give light to the metal! (Personae, p. 75).
|
i K. K. Ruthven, in A Guide To Ezra Pound's Personae (1926), suggests
i
j that this view of the poetic process as analogous to alchemy is not
!
! unusual: "Rimbaud's 'Alchimie du Verbe' established alchemy as a
i
! common metaphor for the poetic process . . ."(p. 33). Pound, however,
i moves a step further. He not only draws an analogy between the
!
I alchemist, endeavoring to transform his metal into gold in his
j
! crucible and the poet, attempting to perfect his verse; but Pound
! also suggests the alchemical analogy applies to the image of the Lady.
! The medieval poet, Pound believes, endeavors to transform his human
lady into divine perfection within his poetry. In "Psychology and
Troubadours," Pound explicitly makes this analogy:"For effect upon
the air, upon the soul, etc., the 'lady' in Tuscan poetry has assumed
all the properties of the Alchemist's stone" (Spirit of Romance,
p. 90). Pound's perception and assertion of this phenomenon has a
lot to do with the ecstatic ending of "Medallion." Here, the poet-
alchemist Pound endeavors to transform the base elements composing
his image of feminine form into a golden eternal Image of his vision-
!
ary goddess of Love and Beauty: Aphrodite.
The diverse sources of the worlds of painting, sculpture,
80
music, mythology, and literature combine to create a complex composite
Image: the poet's transforming medium of verse fuses the compound of
! elements and produces one supreme Image: the glowing, glazed,
I
| immutable Image of "Medallion."
i .
j Pound describes the artist s endeavor to achieve such an
i
| image in his essay, "Brancusi":
| Where Gaudier had developed a sort of form-fugue
j or form sonata by a combination of forms, Brancusi has
set out on the maddeningly more difficult exploration
toward getting all the forms into one form; this is as
! long as any Buddhist's contemplation of the universe or
| as any mediaeval saint's contemplation of the divine
I love,— as long and even as paradoxical as the final
i remarks in the Divina C o m m e d i a . B B
I
| Pound attempted to employ both approaches to art in his poetry. The
j form-fugue approach can be demonstrated throughout the Hugh Selwyn
j
j Mauberley sequence, excepting "Envoi" and "Medallion." In these
! two poems from the sequence, Pound seems to have attempted the
Vdifficult exploration toward getting all the forms into one form."
Relating this process to the alchemist's attempts to fuse and trans
form matter, Pound asserts, "Perhaps every artist at one time or
| another believes in a sort of elixir or philosopher's stone produced
i
by the sheer perfection of his art; by the alchemical sublimation of
the medium, the elimination of accidentals and imperfections"
(p. 442).
In "Medallion," the alchemical transformation attempted is
the metamorphosis of the various elements composing the singer into
a singular, perfected image of the poet's empirically verified
i
I 81
|vision of Love. This transformation is epitomized in the conclusion
|of "Medallion." All of Pound's contemplation of medieval and modern
literature, his combination of modern experience with medieval sensi
bility, lies behind the last line of "Medallion":
"The eyes turn topaz."
We have already seen the nature of the experience that can be re
flected from the Lady's eyes. In Ballata X, for example, Cavalcanti
claims, "I see Love grow resplendent in her eyes" (Translations,
p. 119). In Cavalcanti's Ballata VII, Love likewise appears within
jthe eyes:
j That Lady, who upon thine heart
| Cut her full image, clear, by Love's device,
j Hath looked so fixedly in through thine eyes
That she's made Love appear there (p. 111).
i
jIn Pound's medieval imitations, this Love is associated with precious
i
I
istones and the light glowing within jewels. In "Medallion," it is
|identified with topaz.
j
j Pound in Canzoni, experiments with different gems as repre
sentative of the particular affecting force he wishes to convey by
j
Jthe presentation of the Lady and her concomitant Love. In "Canzon:
The Spear," the light of love appears as "a keener gleam instead,/
Like flame that burns beneath thin jade" (Canzoni, p. 5). In stanza
VIII, this image reappears, associated with verse itself:
Know by the words here mingled
What love hath made my heart his stead,
Glowing like flame beneath thin jade (p. 5).
In "Canzon: To Be Sung Beneath a Window," Love is explicitly
I 82
I
identified with the glowing gem: both are alchemically fused within
| the poet's verse:
I
. . . Were this love well here displayed,
As flame flameth 'neath thin jade
Love should glow through these my phrases
(Canzoni, p. 5).
In "Section V--Tornata, 'Of Angels,'" the image of the precious
i
| stone, associated with the Lady, is varied:
j
Canzon, to her whose spirit seems in sooth
Akin unto the feldspar, since it is
So close and subtle and azure, I send thee . . . (p. 10).
I
j Pound also uses other images of gems to represent the emotional force,
|
| "Love," that he associates with the Lady and, in turn, with his verse.
i
I
I Pound's selection of topaz, in "Medallion" to represent the Love
| previously identified with such images as flame '"neath thin jade,"
i
| may have been suggested by the similar substitutions occurring in
| The Divine Comedy. In Canto XV of the Paradiso, Dante beholds one
of the heavenly spirits:
As through the tranquil and pure skies darteth, from
time to time, a sudden flame setting a-moving eyes
that erst were steady,
seeming a star that changeth place, save that from where
it kindleth no star is lost, and that itself endureth
but a little;
such from the horn that stretcheth to the right unto
that cross's foot, dareth a star of the con
stellation that is there a-glow;
nor did the gem depart from off its riband, but coursed
along the radial line, like fire burning behind
alabaster (lines 13-24, Trans. Spirit of Romance, p. 148).
This spirit reveals himself as Dante's ancestor Cacciaguida, after
Dante addresses him:
Natheless to thee, bright topaz, living part
! Of this rich jewel, I may yet make suit
| To gladden me by telling who thou art.
i
The image of "Medallion's" topaz, especially when viewed as
the promised transformation of "Envoi's" roses/overwrought with
imagic amber, or the alchemical result of the poet's fusing the "roses
I. . .in magic amber" to become "One substance and one colour," can
be more probably traced to an alternative source in the Divine
iComedy. In his essay "Dante," Pound translates the beginning of
Canto XXX of the Paradiso, which introduces the ultimate heaven, the
Empyrean of pure light:
"And I saw light in the form of a river, tawny with
brightness, between two banks painted with miraculous
spring-time,
From such a flood there issued living sparks, and
1 dropped on every side into the flowers, like unto rubies
which gold circumscribes.
Then, as if drunk with the odors, they re-plunged
themselves into the marvelous torrent, and as one
entered another issued forth" (Paradiso, XXX, p. 61-69).
And Pound remarks that in lines 75-8 Beatrice says of the river: "The
river and the topaz-gems which enter and go forth are shadowy pre
faces of their truth" (Spirit of Romance, p. 151). The description
of the ruby-gold sparks which Beatrice sees as "topaz-gems" from
the river of light flowing from the Empyrean has, for Pound, surely
carried over into "Envoi" and "Medallion." The association here of
the topaz-gem with the highest visionary experience recorded in
literature, Dante's vision of the Empyrean, heightens the significance
of the topaz image used within "Medallion." Pound may have retained
a residual memory of these visionary associations with topaz when,
84
years later, he asked "can you see with eyes of coral or turquoise?"
(Canto CX). And when he, recalling the vision first reflected in
Beatrice's eyes (see The Divine Comedy III, Paradise, Canto XXVIII),
! requests, "God's eye art 'ou, do not surrender perception" (Canto
CXIII).
In "Medallion," Pound depicts his own example of experiencing
|
Love simultaneously with his visionary perception of Love as the
essential nature of the ideal feminine image. Both of these per-
;ceptions are contained in the image of the goddess of Love, Aphro-
1
jdite. Love, appearing in the eyes of the "Medallion's" Lady, and
! simultaneously in the verse of the poet, is represented by the image
jof "topaz." "Topaz" in turn, signals the presence of Aphrodite.
| Daniel Pearlman, in The Barb of Time,37 interprets the
j significance of topaz in some lines from Canto V: "The relative
i
ipermanence of the topaz as a gem and its golden color suggest that
i
lit is the poet's 'philosopher's stone' of Love, by which he is en-
! abled to transmute the ever-changing beauty of nature, the flux,
i
| into the permanence of poetic form just as the alchemist ideally can
|
I change baser metals into gold. 'Weaving with points of gold,' which
i
j represents poetic creation, carries forward this muted alchemical
! image of burning crude experience into golden art" (p. 62). "Topaz,"
i .
| Mr. Pearlman believes, belongs in the range of yellow and golden
colors classically associated with Aphrodite" (The Barb of Time,
p. 61); and he finds that in Pound's poetry, "Topaz, gold, and other
yellows are associated with Aphrodite, goddess of love" (p. 63).
85
The appearance of topaz in the eyes of "Medallion's" Image represents
! the poet's successful achemical transformation of his poetic materials
into a perfected Image: Topaz signals the poet's successful invoca-
I
j tion and recreation of the goddess Aphrodite.
i
I Recalling that in the early Cantos, the visionary goddess
| Aphrodite appears to the poet as a reward for his labors and in
i
: response to his desire, we can recognize this same phenomenon
| throughout the Pisan Cantos, (see Daniel Pearlman, "The Pisan Cantos,"
| in The Barb of Time). Themes and images in the Pisan Cantos contin-
|
! ually return to the years Pound spent in London, to Hugh Selwyn
| Mauberley's world. The poetry of the prison camp locks in the back-
| drop for "Medallion." Throughout the Pisan Cantos, the vision is
i sought--is implored— by the poet. It is the apprehension of Aphro-
j dite that finally sustains and gratifies his aspirations. Even in
: Drafts and Fragments, vestiges of the imagery from Hugh Selwyn Mauber-
i 0.0
I ley are apparent, (see Canto CX) and here Pound still seeks and sees
1
! that terzo
| third heaven,
| that Venere,
| where again all is "paradiso"
j The third heaven, Dante tells us, is the heaven of Aphrodite.
In "Medallion," the visionary lady celebrated in Pound's
early poetry becomes modernized. She is hardened, clarified and
i
! objectified into the image of the severe singer. Yet this image
j carries the force of the poet's apprehension of the nature and the
| presence of Aphrodite. "Medallion" attests to the poet's visionary
86
awareness of this goddess of love and beauty: It presents the topaz
vision that Pound will continue to seek and recreate in his poetry.
"Medallion" represents, in miniature, the poet.Vs lifelong homage to
this vision.
'footnotes for CHAPTER II
1. "Affirmations," 1915, rpt. Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 97.
2. The Egoist, (March 16, 1914), p. 117.
3. Letter from Kensington, September, 1915, rpt. Pound/
I Joyce The Letters of Ezra Pound to James Joyce, p. 44.
i 4. The Spirit of Romance, p. 15.
' 5. 1916, rpt. The Portable James Joyce, ed. Harry Levin
(Viking Press: New York), 1960, p. 447.
6. A Portrait of the Artist, p. 475.
7. The Spirit of Romance, p. 149.
8. 1814, rpt. Criticism: The Major Texts, ed. W. J. Bate
(New York: Harcourt Brace & World, Inc., 1952), p. 375.
I
9. A Lume Spento, (1908, rpt. New York: New Directions,
1965), p. 88.
10. A Lume Spento, p. 88.
11. Ezra Pound, Poet as Sculptor, p. 220; reprinted in New
Approaches to Ezra Pound, pp. 210-11.
12. See New Approaches, pp. 13-20.
13. in New Approaches to Ezra Pound, pp. 242-279.
14. "The Criterion," Little Review, 4, No. 12 (April 1918),
11. Donald Gallup, in A Bibliography of Ezra Pound, notes this
brief note is "unsigned, but almost certainly contributed by Ezra
Pound" (see p. 224). Pound's admiration of Browning's Sordello is
well known. E. M. Glenn, in "A Guide to Ezra Pound's Cantos (1-14),"
notes, "in the early version of the first three Cantos, Pound
comments at some length on Browning's Sordello, admiring ..." (The
Analyst, No. 1, p. 3). Pound's admiration and use of Sordello is
also discussed at length in Mr. Glenn's "A Guide to Canto II of
Ezra Pound," The Analyst, No. 18, pp. 7-9.
87
88
15. "A Guide to Canto II of Ezra Pound," The Analyst, No. 18,
|p. 8. See pp. 6-9 for discussion of condensation in Pound and
;Browning.
]
16. letter from London, June 4, 1918, rpt. Letters, p. 137.
17. Quarterley Review, 1913, rpt. Spirit of Romance, p. 102.
18. "II Miglior Fabbro," Spirit of Romance, p. 22.
19. Letter to William Carlos Williams from London, October 21,
1908; in Letters, p. 3; quoted in Forms and Renewal, p. 18.
20. See Donald Gallup, A Bibliography of Ezra Pound, pp. 30-
31. Some of the Canzoni poems first appeared in Provenca (1910).
21. Ezra Pound: His Metric and Poetry, (New York: Alfred
Knopf, 1917), pp. 10-11.
22. Ezra Pound: Translations, (1926, New York: New
Directions, 1963), p. 39. See p. 7— the Cavalcanti poems were first
published in 1912.
23. The Early Poetry of Ezra Pound, (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1968), p. 230.
24. November 15, 1910, rpt. Translations, p. 25.
25. I Gather the Limbs of Osiris— I," New Age, X. 7 -
(December 7, 1911), 131.
26. Ezra Pound: His Metric and Poetry, pp. 172-73.
27. Pound, "Correspondence," Poetry (December 10, 1912),
rpt. Stock, Life of Pound, p. 127.
28. E. P., January 1937; footnote from Harriet Monroe's
A Poet's Life, rpt. Letters, p. 49.
29. Motive and Method, p. 9.
30. This image, it seems to me, appears more appropriate
when the original concert-stage scene is recalled. The darkened-
theatre seems lit by "Half-watt rays." The technical, scientific
image of electric light further modernizes and objectifies the
visionary scene.
31. The Early Poetry of Ezra Pound, p. 235.
89
32. The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats, (1933, New York:
The Macmillan Company, 1964), p. 62.
33. 1916, Spirit of Romance, p. 97.
34. Pound used the fact of the presence of this term through-
i out Provencal poetry to suggest a possible analogy between the
! medieval lady and the Provencal poet's perception of the divine.
! In "Psychology and Troubadors," Pound said, "There is the consumma-
i tion of it all in Dante's glorification of Beatrice. There is the
; inexplicable address to the lady in the masculine. There is the
| final evolution of Amor by Guido and Dante, a new and paganish
! god ..." (Spirit of Romance, pp. 91-2). Daniel Pearlman
I convincingly demonstrates Pound's presentation and invocation of
| Aphrodite as a current, compelling divine force (see Barb of Time,
I esp. pp. 258-263). This force, Pound implies, is addressed as
i "Midonz"; and it penetrates, transforms the verse. It is identical
j with the force of Aphrodite, interpenetrating the image of the lady.
35. The Little Review, VIII, 1 (Autumn, 1921), rpt. Literary
; Essays, p. 442.
\ 36. The Divine Comedy III: Paradise, trans. Dorothy L.
Sayers and Barbara Reynolds, (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1962),
j p. 128.
37. Pearlman's explanation of topaz is relevant to "Miadal-
i lion," although Pearlman here refers to Pound's use of topaz in
i Canto V:
Topaz I manage, and three sorts of blue;
I but on the barb of time.
\ The fire? always, and the vision always,
Ear dull, perhaps, with the vision, flitting
j And fading at will. Weaving with points of gold,
j Gold-yellow, saffron . . . (The Cantos, p. 17).
! The image of the "three sorts of blue," Daniel Pearlman notes, has
! been interpreted by John J. Espey: In The Analyst (No. Ill), John
; J. Espey identifies 'three sorts of blue' as an allusion to Pound's
j own early poem "Blandula, Tenulla, Vagula," in which the poet
; addresses his soul and speaks of meeting it, after physical death,
| in an earthly sensuous paradise: "Will not our cult be founded on
j the waves/Clear sapphire, cobalt, cyanine,/On triune azures, the
i impalpable/Mirrors unstill of the eternal change?" Blue, however,
I has in any case become associated in previous cantos with the changing
j colors of sea and sky, so that it is self-sufficient as a symbol of
| natural beauty (p. 62).
j
j 38. Canto CXVI: to "see again," the verb is "see," not
; "walk on."
CHAPTER III
SIFTING TO AGATHON FROM THE CHAFF
j
Since its publication April 23, 1920, by the Ovid Press in
London, Hugh Selwyn Mauberley has confounded its readers. Just who
is Hugh Selwyn Mauberley? What does he represent? How does he
|differ, if at all, from Ezra Pound? What is the relationship, if any,
between the poems within the sequence? Is the point of view consistent
or hopelessly confused? Does the poem contain values and judgments
j that can be determined and articulated? If so, what are they? Now,
j
| fifty years after its appearance, Hugh Selwyn Mauberley still pre-
j
sents such basic difficulties in interpretation. Major critical
! problems within the work remain unresolved. Point of view? Struc-
I ture? Meaning? These fundamental elements have not yet been
j satisfactorily explained.
I Yef in spite of this, critics have accorded Hugh Selwyn
I
i Mauberley high praise. Even critics who disparage later or earlier
j poems by Pound recognize Mauberley1s merit. F. R. Leavis, for
I example, believes Mauberley to be Pound's finest work. "Only in
j Mauberley," claims Dr. Leavis, has Pound "achieved the impersonality,
j substance, and depth of great poetry."Hugh Selwyn Mauberley,"
he declares, "is a whole. The whole is great poetry, at once tradi
tional and original. Mr. Pound's standing as a poet rests upon it,
| 90
91
and rests securely" (p. 36). Hugh Kenner, in The Poetry of Ezra
jPound, emphasizes the importance of Mauberley: "Homage to Sextus
I ---------
I Propertius (1917) and Hugh Selwyn Mauberley (1920) would, had not a
!
I
I single Canto been finished dispel any doubt of Pound's being a major
j
J ry
jpoet. Mr. Kenner summarizes the majority of critical assessments of
jPound's 1920 poem, concluding, "The isolated success of Mauberley is
(generally conceded" (p. 165).
I
j Over ten years later, Donald Davie, in his essay "Ezra Pound's
j
jHugh Selwyn Mauberley," reaffirms Mauberley's importance. He
! suggests this poem's significance and centrality, not only in the
|Pound canon, but also in our literary heritage: "But the conclusive
j reason why Pound cannot be ignored is that Hugh Selwyn Mauberley at
j any rate has been accepted into the English poetic tradition, in the
i
i sense that every subsequent British poet at all serious about his
j ■
I vocation, has found it necessary to come to terms with this work,
i accepting or else quarrelling with its conclusions about British
| Q
| culture no less than with its revolutionary strategies and methods."
j
; T. S. Eliot has also insisted on Mauberley's merit and its prominent
! position in poetic tradition. Eliot cautions, "the 'greatness' of a
|
i poet is not a question for critics of his own age to raise. . . .
| 'Greatness,' . . . is an attribute conferred by time."^ Yet his
I warning serves only to underline his conviction concerning Mauberley's
lasting merit. In the introduction to Pound's Selected Poems, Eliot
records his homage to Mauberley: "it may give surprise that I attach
so much importance to Hugh Selwyn Mauberley. This seems to me a
92
! c
| great poem ..." Later, he is more positive: "I am sure of
j Mauberley, whatever else I am sure of."^ And Eliot's opinions are
i supported and echoed by Dr. Leavis decades later: "Of Hugh Selwyn
| “ j
! Mauberley I think as highly as ever; it seems to me a great poem."
j
! Nowadays it does not surprise us to find Pound's friendly critics as
I Q I
I well as his hostile critics0 duly accepting and praising Mauberley s
I
j merits. What is astonishing, however, is the disparity among the
| reasons for this praise. Although critics seem to agree that Mauber-
i ley is a masterpiece, few seem to agree as to why this is so. The
i critical acclaim Mauberley has received, does not, as one might
| expect, serve to compliment Pound's handling of literary devices;
|
j rather, it serves to emphasize the major critical difficulties still
I unresolved in the poem. The critical unanimity with which Mauberley
!
i has been accepted into the poetic tradition goes along uneasily with
i a lack of critical accord in solving such major critical problems as
! structure, point of view, and meaning. These questions surely have
t
i been investigated. Yet the resulting multiple and contradictory
! conclusions have only underlined the complexity of the poem; they
!
I have not erased the initial difficulties.
i
I
I William V. Spanos, in his article, "The Modulating Voice of
| Hugh Selwyn Mauberley," surveys various critical approaches to the
problems of Mauberley. Criticism intended to determine point of
view, Mr. Spanos finds, "falls roughly into three categories,
| The representative critic of the first position, F. R. Leavis,
"assumes Ezra Pound to be the speaker of the entire sequence and, by
I 93
| equating him throughout with Mauberley, reads the poem as Pound's
1
jconfession of artistic failure" (p. 73). Oddly, Dr. Leavis's high
i estimate of Pound as poet in Mauberley is based on his belief that
Mauberley documents the insignificance of Pound as poet. Dr. Leavis
I summarizes this view: "Mauberley is in the first place (the descrip
tion suggests itself readily) the summing-up of an individual life.
. . . One might, at the risk of impertinence, call it quintessential
;autobiography, taking care, however, to add that it has the imperson
ality of great poetry.Mr. Spanos places critics such as Hugh
!Kenner and John Espey in another category, explaining that they
believe that the point of view of the "Ode" differs from the point
of view presented in the rest of the sequence. This group, according
to Mr. Spanos, claims, "that the 'Ode' is spoken by Pound's critics
:or by Pound speaking in the voice of his critics and that the rest
of the sequence (with the exception of the last poem "Medallion") is
;spoken by Pound and constitutes both his answer to the critics who
bury him at the outset and his effort to disassociate himself from
!the weaker Mauberley" (Wisconsin Studies, p. 73). Both Hugh Kenner
\and John Espey run into some difficulty when trying to differentiate
i
between Mauberley and Pound, however, using this view of the sequence.
Mr. Kenner finds that the point of view shifts after the "Ode": "A
British voice pronounces 'E.P.' dead . . . whereupon another voice
(E.P. ’s) constates what the age demanded . . . Yet, Mr. Kenner
is ambivalent about the relationship between Pound and Mauberley
throughout the sequence. Mr. Spanos believes, "Hugh Kenner does not
94
hesitate to suggest that the relationship is somewhat analogous to
that of Stephen Dedalus and James Joyce. ..." (Wisconsin Studies,
p. 95). Mr. Kenner does compare Pound's and Joyce's methods: "it
I may be helpful to remark that Joyce is in this respect like Pound,
j an.artist of the Flaubertian kind; his Stephen Dedalus is a parody
i
! of himself, not an artist but an aesthete ..." (The Poetry of
I Ezra Pound, p. 167). But he hesitates to draw a strict parallel
between Mauberley and Joyce's Dedalus: "Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, on
j the other hand, does not speak with Mr. Pound's voice, and is more
| antithetically than intimately related to the poet of the Cantos.
| It would be misleading to say that he is a portion of Mr. Pound's
I self whom Mr. Pound is externalizing in order to get rid of him (like
! Stephen Dedalus)" (The Poetry of Ezra Pound, P. 166). Now, two
| decades later, Mr. Kenner does accept a view of Mauberley as "a
; portion of Mr. Pound's self whom Mr. Pound" must externalize in order
! to exterminate. Mauberley, Mr. Kenner believes, represents a device
j by which Pound: "ended his 'aesthetic' period: the 'sensitive man'
{ who did not know what was going on he peeled off like a shed skin and
j called Hugh Selwyn Mauberley" (The Pound Era, p. 408). In Kenner's
i view, Mauberley represents an extension of Pound's aesthetic values
i into the past; a stage of Pound's development that he outgrew; a set
i of poetic principles that he discards: Mauberley represents "the
i aesthetic he had exorcised" (p. 71).
i
John Espey agrees with Kenner that the point of view shifts
i
! after the "Ode" and remains consistently Pound's throughout following
95
poems (excluding "Medallion"): Mauberley "opens with an ironic "Ode1
on Ezra Pound himself, in which, using the cliches of the time and
of his critics, he actually reveals his own character and career.
i Then, moving on to the age in which he lives, Pound characterizes it
12
in his own voice." Mr. Espey also agrees with Hugh Kenner that
Mauberley can be regarded as a possible extension of Pound's person-
! ality; although Espey, too, seems uncertain of such an identification:
Perhaps it is anticlimactic to insist that a problem
| still remains, the problem of what one might call the
j "exterior" relationship between Hugh Selwyn Mauberley and
! Ezra Pound. For Mauberley taken entirely on its own terms,
the relation is, I think, clear enough: the passive
! aesthete played off against the active instigator. . . .
i What is, perhaps, useful and pertinent is to suggest that
j in the person of Mauberley, Pound was rejecting . . . a
i mask of what he feared to become as an artist by remaining
j in England (Ezra Pound's Mauberley, p. 83).
I
j Whether, as Kenner sees it, Mauberley represents what Pound had been
| and now is not or whether, as Espey suggests, Mauberley represents
|
' what Pound feared he might become, both critics see Mauberley in an
i analogical relationship with Pound. Whether as a future projection
i
| or a past happening of Pound's life as poet, Mauberley, according to
|
I this critical view, presents extreme extensions of Pound's own views
j which are so magnetic that Pound must fear or fight them. The dis-
! sociation between Pound and Mauberley, then, in their view, is being
made by Pound himself within the poem. If the distinction is not
drawn very clearly, it is because Pound himself is attracted by some
j of Mauberley's attitudes.
Those who are not content to blur the relationship between
Pound and Mauberley constitute a third group. Donald Davie, Thomas
96
E. Connelly, and George Dekker, believes Mr. Spanos, present another
approach to Mauberley. They find "The 'Ode' to be written by the old
I
J guard critics and some parts of the sequence to be spoken by Pound
i
|and some by fictitious Mauberley" (Wisconsin Studies, pp. 73-4).
j
|Although viewing portions of the sequence as written from Pound's
|
ipoint of view and portions of it as Mauberley's seems to distinguish
I ,
imore clearly between Pound s and Mauberley s aesthetics, it presents
|another major problem: structure. Now the poem becomes disjointed;
i
jits ideas are disunited. George Dekker summarizes the difficulty.
i
!Pound is, in Mauberley, "constantly shifting the speaker's point of
|view and attitude . . . the tendency of Pound's historical view to
i
I make everything modern uniformly bad and dead is overcome by the
i
!constant shifts of attitude and point of view."^ Mr. Dekker, how-
i
lever, is caught in the dilemma of being unable to confidently
i
|determine at which point the speaker is Pound and at which point
I
j Mauberley: "We have no warrant for saying that the experiencing
I intelligence must be regarded as that of Ezra Pound, author of Cathay
I
land Lustra; we have excellent reason to suppose that the intelligence
jis not that of the fictional Mauberley" (p. 158). Mr. Dekker finally
I follows the escape route marked by John Espey and Hugh Kenner: Pound
jis not Mauberley; but he could be, or might have been: "Pound, in
j
other words, is purging in the person of Mauberley a specifically
Paterian tendency in himself" (p. 162). As a consequence of this
confusion in determining the point of view, Mr. Dekker sees Mauberley
as "a poem lacking fully coherent development and final unity:" "If
97
the first sequence were less complete, or iJ the speaker of the first
sequence were clearly Mauberley rather than Pound, then the second
sequence (where Pound seems clearly to be the speaker) would perhaps
complete a poetic whole" (p. 162). As it is, however, Mr. Dekker
finds the poem structurally defective. This conclusion is especially
troubling, as he also believes, "Even allowing for numerous diffi
culties of interpretation (especially in the case of the first poem),
the sequence must surely be rated among the finest poetic achieve-
| ments of the century" (p. 159).
i
Donald Davie also confronts the problem of determining point
i
| of view in Mauberley. The "Ode," Mr. Davie explains, "has been
i
i taken as Pound s judgment upon himself, but in fact it presents
| Pound as he knows he must appear to some others. The remaining
| poems of the first part of the sequence cannot be so confidently
I
I identified: Mr. Davie believes "this whole sequence of twelve short
j
! pomes reads better . . . if they are taken as spoken by the fictional
Mauberley. Yet many of them can be read as if spoken directly by
Pound" (p. 323). The difficulties involved in distinguishing Mauber-
! ley from Pound are "inherent in any use of a created character
| standing between the poet and the reader" (p. 323). "The device,"
I
j
Mr. Davie continues, "appears to work only if the persona is suf
ficiently differentiated from the poet himself— otherwise the irony
lapses, and the reader overlooks the presence of the persona" (p. 323)
In Ezra Pound: Poet As Sculptor, Mr. Davie decides that the
device, Mauberley, serves no useful purpose in the poem: "Hardly
98
anything is lost, and much is gained, if the poems are read one at a
| time, as so many poems by Pound, and if the Mauberley persona is
j
| dismissed as a distracting nuisance. Hugh Selwyn Mauberley thus
i
j
j falls to pieces, though the pieces are brilliant, intelligent always,
i
| and sometimes moving (for Gautier repeatedly enabled Pound to sur-
| pass himself). As for the theory of the persona . . . it seems only
| to have confused Pound and led him to confuse his readers.We
| seem quite entangled, at this point, in the web critics have woven in j
; trying to acclaim and explain Mauberley. From the initial position j
! taken by F. R. Leavis that Mauberley as poem is unified because Pound j
and Mauberley are indistinguishable, to Mr. Davie's position that !
j j
; Mauberley "falls to pieces" because Mauberley and Pound are indistin- ]
: |
! guishable, we are left as puzzled as ever by the initial problems !
i \
■ Mauberley presents: Structure? Meaning? Point of view? There is j
: I
j f
! still no evidence that convincingly demonstrates that Pound is— or is j
; i
; not— Mauberley.
! After surveying this critical scene, and summarizing various
i j
I !
j approaches to Mauberley, William Spanos concludes: |
"Those critics who claim unity for Mauberley (the first j
| two categories) do so on the grounds of an examination of |
! the content rather than the form of the sequence. Whether
I deliberately or inadvertently, they fail to consider the
i complex problem posed by the apparently irregular orienta-
j tion of the point of view (third person, first person, j
! personless) throughout the sequence. On the other hand, j
| those who confront the irregular orientation (the third |
category) find it more difficult to conclude that the j
| sequence is a unified whole (Wisconcin Studies, p. 74). j
;Mr. Spanos1 "alternative approach to the sequence is that "Mauberley is]
I both thematically and formally unified and that the key to this unity
resides precisely in the irregular orientation of the point of view."
i
In the "Ode," he believes, Pound can not be separated from Mauberley's
I point of view. Pound "begins by identifying himself with the object
I(Mauberley)" (P. 96). The rest of the poem represents a gradual
separation of the two figures: "It assumes rather the form of cathar
sis, or more precisely, of exorcism by externalization" (p. 96). The
difficulty here is that the argument presents the same double-edged
^proposition that Pound is, and yet is not Mauberley. Neither the
|
poem, thus interpreted, nor the critics, thus far, can say with cer
tainty just when and where in the poem Mauberley is transformed into
Pound or vice versa. Donald Davie has anticipated the difficulty with
Mr. Spanos's explanation of Mauberley as a drama of transformation:
"Such 'plots' can indeed be found— all too many of them. The trouble
is that any one of them requires that we give Pound the benefit of
every doubt, on the score of elusive shifts of tone, a raised eyebrow
here, a half-smile somewhere else, a momentary puckering of the brow.
'Tone' will not do so much, so certainly, as the most admiring com
mentators ask us to believe" (Poet as Sculptor, p. 101).
! For over fifty years, critics have been trying to determine the
nature of the difference, if any, between Pound and Hugh Selwyn Mauber-
;ley. Most of the critics assume that any difference between the two
i
jpoets stems from the aesthetic principles held by each. Mauberley
represents the aesthete; Pound, the complete artist. Mauberley is
ipassive; Pound, active. John J. Espey in Ezra Pound's Mauberley, for
Sexample, asserts that the distinction between Mauberley and Pound is
j
i"clear enough: the passive aesthete played off against the insti-
|gator . . (p. 83). Evidence supporting this view has been drawn
from the last poem of the sequence, "Medallion." Viewed as an example
of Mauberley's work that is somehow inferior to Pound's (as, for
example, the "Envoi"), "Medallion" has been used to show Mauberley's
limitations as artist. Donald Davie offers the premise that guided
jcritics in this direction: "In order to sustain the case that Mauber-
iley and Pound are distinct (in other words, that H. S. Mauberley is
truly a created fiction), one has to believe that this poem is offered
as Mauberley's work, not Pound's; that the exactness this poem achieves
iis in Pound's opinion bought at too great a cost, in view of the
metallic inertness with which the imagery endows the subject" (Poet As j
Sculptor, p. 100). Yet, we have already seen, in the "Medallion" |
j
section of this study, that "Medallion" is^ Pound's poem, and that the j
aesthetic values it represents are entirely consistent with the Vorti-
icist principles Pound championed. "Medallion," now, cannot be used as
evidence for Mauberley's inferiority. What, then, can be used? l£
there any evidence within the text of Mauberley to distinguish between
iPound and his persona?
I Donald Davie suggests that the evidence of the poem offers us
a rather dubious distinction between the two poets: "Those who argue
I
‘ that Pound never loses control of the persona Mauberley, require us j
i I
' !
to see the latter as an inadequate person whose inadequacies Pound is j
indicating. . . . But as we have seen . . . Pound surpasses Villerant
iin only one particular, in the barbaric virtue of energy. And this
|
;seems true of Pound's relation to Mauberley also" Poet As Sculptor,
:p. 100). Is energy, then, what distinguishes the active artist from
the aesthete? John Espey also investigates the evidence within the
;poem which could yield information concerning these critical problems.
There are three interrelated questions he hopes to answer in Ezra
;Pound1s Mauberley; "The first of these is the relationship between
I
]Ezra Pound himself and H. S. Mauberley, whether the two are to be
identified wholly or in part or not at all. The second is the ques
tion of the poem's construction, whether it is a series of almost
;unrelated pieces arbitrarily patched together or a strictly balanced
composition or something between the two; and the third is the nature
of the poem's ultimate base" (p. 13). Mr. Espey's study of "the
materials from which Pound shaped" (p. 13) Mauberley leads him to
conclude that the poem is an even simpler version of what Mr. Davie
:calls "the barbaric virtue of energy" (Poet As Sculptor, p. 100). The
images of the poem, Mr. Espey finds, all point to "the final, sexual
series on which Mauberley rests": (p. 80) the discovery of Mauberley's
sexual impotence. Revealing such a shallow center of judgment, Mr.
jEspey confesses, is disturbing: "if this is the final level on which
Mauberley is to be read, one is struck by the disparity between the
astonishing complexity of its surface and the apparent simplicity of
its base, a disparity that comes close to being disconcerting" (p. 81). j
In order to mitigate dissatisfaction with his conclusion, Mr. Espey
} 102 I
tempers the results of his study by a consideration of Pound's study
jof Gourmont.
| In "Remy De Gourmont," Pound commends Gourmont's dissociation
I
"between the aesthetic receptivity of tactile and magnetic values, of
ithe perception of beauty in these relationships, and the conception of
i
love, passion, emotion as an intellectual instigation."^ This, Mr.
lEspey decides, "is Mauberley1s base" (E. P.'s Mauberley, p. 82).
j Mauberley is based on "Pound's own dissociation of ideas in Gourmont's
jwork" (p. 82): "The dissociation is precisely the dissociation Pound
makes between the Muses of Gourmont and James; it is the structural
‘ dissociation made between the two parts of Hugh Selwyn Mauberley as a
‘ composition; it is the dissociation made between Pound, the poet of
i'love, passion, emotion as an intellectual instigation,' and Mauberley,
ithe poet of 'aesthetic receptivity of tactile and magnetic values, of j
i I
the perception of beauty in these relationships'" (p. 82). Mr. !
Espey's qualification, however, insted of explaining or expanding his
j • I
iearlier conclusion, merely eradicates it. Pound does not make the
i
■division that Mr. Espey infers from Pound's essay on De Gourmont.
‘ Mr. Espey links Mauberley with a lack of sexuality, with impaired
sexual response; he identifies Mauberley with the "receptivity of
tactile and magnetic values." In contrast, Pound identifies these
•"tactile and magnetic values" with sexual responsivness. Early in the
‘ essay "Remy De Gourmont," Pound identifies sexuality with the qualities
!that Mr. Espey has concluded Mauberley possesses: "Sex, insofar as itis
j j
■not a purely physiological reproductive mechanism, lies in the domain j
|of aesthetics, the junction of tactile and magnetic senses" (Literary
( Essays, p. 343). Mr. Espey's attempt to explain Hugh Selwyn Mauberley
by "Pound's own dissociation of ideas" (Ezra Pound's Mauberley, p. 32). j
!
in effect links Mauberley to sexuality and so cancels Espey's original ;
observation concerning Mauberley's impotence. This tangle emerges
(from Mr. Espey's mistaken interpretation of Pound's original meaning.
: I
(In "Remy De Gourmont," Pound does not separate concepts in the way Mr.
Espey indicates. Instead of establishing two separate ways of dealing
with life, life forces or sex, Pound makes "aesthetic receptivity" and
"love, passion, emotion as an intellectual instigation" come together
as an interdependent process. "Aesthetic receptivity" and "the per
ception of beauty" are not separated from the conception of love.
1 I
(Rather, Pound suggests that receptivity leads to perception; perception
to conception. Pound speaks of an interactive force; "love, passion,
emotion as an intellectual instigation" results from the "aesthetic j
receptivity of tactile and magnetic values, of the perception of
(beauty in these relationships" (p. 82). Pound, so far from disti
nguishing between the intellectual instigation of "love, passion, and
(emotion" and the aesthetic receptivity of "tactile and magnetic
(senses," distinguishes rather between degrees of response. He dis
tinguishes between the levels and the sorts of tactile and magnetic
values:
some people have accurate ears both for rhythm and for
pitch, and as some are tone deaf, some impervious to
rhythmic subtlety and variety, so in this other field of
the senses some desire the trivial, some the processional,
the stately, the masterwork.
| 104
i
As some people are good judges of music, and some
j insensible to painting and sculpture, so the fineness of
i one sense may entail no corresponding fineness in another,
j or at least no corresponding critical perception of
differences (Literary Essays, p. 341).
The degree, or quality of "love, passion, or emotion" may be traced
;to the quality of aesthetic receptivity. Pound's recognition of the
unbroken connection between the senses, the imagination, and the
! I
intellect, is further revealed in another comment on Remy de Gourmont:
"Gourmont arouses the senses of the imagination, preparing the mind
for receptivities. His wisdom, if not of the senses, is at any rate
via the senses" (p. 345). Gourmont, Pound continues, "was intensely
aware of the differences of emotional timbre" (p. 340). For Gourmont,
"The emotions are equal before the aesthetic judgment. He does not
grant the duality of body and soul . . . there is an interpenetration,
;an osmosis of body and soul" (p. 341). Gourmont "differentiates his
characters by the modes of their sensibility" (p. 340); his "compli
cated sensuous wisdom" (p. 341) permeates his observations. It is an
unfortunate misreading, because it is surely true that Mr. Espey
ipoints to a central, crucial theme in Mauberley. The poem does
present Mauberley as impotent— in art, in sex, in life--and the quota- |
ition from Gourmont is quite pertinent. But Mauberley can be seen to
be deficient in the whole process that Gourmont describes. Mauberley,
| ' j
II hope to demonstrate, responds ineffectually on all levels, from j
;"the aesthetic receptivity of tactile and magnetic values" to "the j
1 |
perception of beauty in these relationships, and the conception of j
love ..." (Literary Essays, p. 343). He is deficient in Gourmont's
jblend of body and soul. I have described in the "Medallion" section
|of this study Pound's own experience with this process. The poem
j"Medallion" serves to document Pound's aesthetic receptivity in, for
example, Raymonde Collignon's concert, which leads to the "intellec
tual instigation" of the vision of Aphrodite, representative of "love,
passion, and emotion."
[
Hugh Witemeyer, in The Poetry of Ezra Pound: Forms and Renewal
I
11908-1920, focuses his study of the distinction between Pound and
Mauberley on their respective aesthetic principles. Whereas Mr. Espey
weighs his discussion of Mauberley towards the matter of sexual con
notation, Mr. Witemeyer concentrates on the differences between Pound's
land Mauberley's aesthetic values. Taken together, Mr. Espey's and
Mr. Witemeyer's studies offer a balanced view of the areas in which
Mauberley can be distinguished from Pound.
| Mauberley, states Hugh Witemeyer in Forms and Renewal, "is not
modeled on any particular historical person, and to search for his
'original' is to misunderstand Pound's intention. He is the type of
the impressionist,^ and his failure is inseparable from his aes-
ithetic" (p. 176). Mr. Witemeyer convincingly argues that: "The
|character of Mauberley is the dramatic embodiment of certain radical
jdefects which the Vorticists saw in impressionism" (p. 181). In Hugh
j Selwyn Mauberley, he maintains, Pound presents "partly a drama of
aesthetic theory" (p. 176): "in distinguishing impressionism from
jVorticism, Pound followed the basic strategy of Vorticist polemic,
which was to identify rival aesthetic theories as fundamentally
S 106
! mimetic, and to contrast them with the more 'creative' and formalist j
j j
; principles of Vorticism. . . . The essence of Pound's criticism was j
I that impressionism is simply a passive recording of external impres- j
jsions, without any active or creative transformation on the part of the
! I
artist" (p. 177). Mauberley, then, "becomes increasingly passive.
. . . Gradually he becomes a type of the passive and superficial
:impressionist sensibility" (p. 178). j
Yet in spite of the distinctions Pound makes between Vorticism
and Impressionism, and in spite of Mr. Witemeyer's identification of
Mauberley with Impressionism, Pound does not condemn Impressionists
so completely as Mr. Witemeyer would have us believe.
In his article "Dubliners and Mr. James Joyce," Pound praised
Joyce's work and described his writing techniques: "There are still
impressionists about and I dare say they claim Mr. Joyce. I admire
impressionist writers."18 Differentiating between Imagisme and
Impressionism, Pound suggests that, "Imagisme is not Impressionism,
though one borrows, or could borrow, much from the impressionist j
I l t i q
method of presentation. Pound views Impressionism, in fact, as
representative of a healthier stream of aesthetic direction and poetic
jdevelopment than most of the other schools that he observed: "English
iprose writers who haven't got as far as impressionism (that is to
j ’ say, 95 per cent of English writers of prose and verse) are a bore."^8 j
: j
|0n the other hand, Pound did not hesitate to condemn Impressionism. j
j |
iln his article "Arnold Dolmetsch," Pound declares "Impressionism has j
ireduced us to such a dough-like state of receptivity that we have
107
i
i
{ceased to like concentration. Or if it has not done this it has at
{least set a fashion of passivity that has held since the romantic
|movement. Pound could have changed his mind between 1915 and 1918,
i
iof course. ^ But another explanation of these apparently contra
dictory opinions can be found in Pound's delineation of two types of
Impressionists. Pound refines his judgment to include not just the
obviously inferior but also what he believes to be critical deficiencies
iin the literary trends he respects: "Impressionism, has however, two
{meanings, or perhaps I had better say, the word 'impressionism* gives
{two different 'impressions"' ("Dubliners," Literary Essays, p. 399).
The two directions Impressionism takes accounts for Pound's mixed
opinions of the school:
There is a school of prose writers, and of verse writers
for that matter, whose forerunner was Stendhal and whose
founder was Flaubert. The followers of Flaubert deal in
exact presentation. They are often so intent on exact
presentation that they neglect intensity, selection, and
concentration. They are perhaps the most clarifying and
they have been perhaps the most beneficial force in
modern writing.
There is another set, mostly of verse writers, who
founded themselves not upon anybody's writing but upon the
pictures of Monet. Every movement in painting picks up a
few writers who try to imitate in words what someone has
done in paint ....
' These "impressionists" who write in imitation of Monet's
softness instead of writing in imitation of Flaubert's
definiteness, are a bore, a grimy, or perhaps I should say,
a rosy, floribund bore (Literary Essays, pp. 339-400).
! Joyce, then, Pound tells us, is an "impressionist" who follows
Flaubert. In his article "Ulysses," Pound states, "Joyce has taken
jup the art of writing where Flaubert left it" (1922; rpt. Literary
i Essays, p. 403). Is this also true of Pound himself?
108
In the "Ode," we are told that E.P.'s "true Penelope was
Flaubert." Critics have generally accepted this as a statement of
I
i
i fact. Hugh Witemeyer, for example, accepts this line in the "Ode"
i as a critical judgment on the young E.P. E.P. fails because he does
I
| not recognize Flaubert as his "true Penelope"; he does not follow
I '
| Flaubert's principles: "E.P. fails in his artistic quest because he
j
j does not clearly perceive its goal. Modern poetry can be revived only
j
I by a strong infusion of the spirit of Flaubert's prose; in this sense
j
j Flaubert is his 'true Penelope.' But E.P. 'fishes on, either un-
| aware of Flaubert or unable critically to see (what) Flaubert can
| giye him'" (Forms and Renewal, p. 166).
Mr. Donald Davie also assumes that the speaker of the "Ode" is |
| i
! making a just criticism of E.P.'s failing: "In the speaker's view, j
i Circe, representing Pound's epic aspirations, had beguiled him from
; pursuing his voyage home to his faithful wife, Penelope, to his true j
! objective, which was Flaubertian" (The Modern Age, p. 320). Hugh j
j i
1 Kenner also assumes that indeed, Flaubert is E.P.'s "true Penelope"; |
| but his reading makes a variation in this interpretation. Mr. Kenner
ibelieves that the speaker of the "Ode," Mauberley, scorns the
i alliance with Flaubert: "Flaubert represents the ideal of dis-
1 ciplined self-immolation from which English poetry has been too long
iestranged. . . . For the writer of the epitaph, on the other hand,
I Flaubert is conceded to be E.P.'s 'true* (=equivalent) Penelope only
!
!in deprecation: Flaubert being for the English literary mind of the
| first quarter of the present century a foreign, feminine, rather
j 109
!
j comically earnest indulger in quite un-British preciosity" (Poetry of
I Ezra Pound, pp. 170-71). Mr. Davie quotes this as an example of how
! "'His true Penelope was Flaubert' . . . has been well disentangled"
! (Modern Age, p. 320). Reconciling his view with Mr. Kenner's in
order to make some sense of the poem, Mr. Davie offers the ingenious
I explanation that "The speaker of the poem says what is true while
imeaning to say (in identical words) what is false" (p. 320).
! In all these interpretations, however, Flaubert retains his
I unchallenged position as the "true Penelope," as the legitimate,
I inevitable mate, the representative of the poet's literary homeland,
ithe keeper of the aesthetic domicile. This view is based on the
assumption that Pound himself would have so enshrined Flaubert. But
is this, in fact, the case? I suggest that, for Pound, continuing
;the Odyssean analogy, Flaubert corresponds not to Penelope, but to
I Circe. The speaker of the "Ode" errs by not recognizing this rela
tionship. Odysseus neither avoids nor succumbs to Circe. Mastered
land used wisely, Circe yields her secrets; she offers Odysseus
; valuable directions for his journey homeward. In contrast, for
I
islavish devotion and indiscriminate indulgence, Circe brings degrada-
i •
tion to Odysseus's crew and disaster to Elpenor. J Pound, I believe,
.applies the same double-edged view to Flaubert. We are told that
|E.P.'s "true Penelope was Flaubert," but we are also told in "Mauberley
i
i(1920)" that Mauberley's "true Penelope/Was Flaubert." Here the
iphrase, as we shall see, assumes a different connotation from the
|"0de's." Just as Odysseus's success in returning home relies on his
awareness of Circe's danger as well as her benefits, so does Pound
see the aesthetic pitfalls as well as progress possible to the
devotees of Flaubert.
I
Pound surely admires Flaubert's work. In a letter to Iris I
i
|
Barry, he declares: "I suppose Flaubert's Trois Contes, especially j
'Coeur Simple,' contain all that anyone knows about writing."^ In
his essay "The Renaissance," Pound advises, "What one learns from
other French poets, one might as readily learn from Voltaire and
Stendhal and Flaubert" (1914, rpt. Literary Essays, p. 216). In
response to Rene Taupin's inquiry about influences on Pound's writing,
Pound included Flaubert among his masters:
Ma r£forme:
1. Browning--denue des paroles superflus
2. Flaubert— mot juste, presentation ou c o n s t a t a t i o n ^
Years later, Pound referred to the importance of Flaubert in forming
his aesthetic principles. In Guide to Kulchur, Pound declares, "We
traced the 'just word' back to Flaubert. . . . We litterati struggled
for twenty years on this front.
Pound's admiration, however, does not extend to an uncritical
acceptance of all of Flaubert's work. In "The Hard and Soft in
French Poetry" Pound compares Flaubert to other writers: "Flaubert
and Anatole France are both 'softer' than Voltaire and Stendhal.
And he qualifies the recommendation of Flaubert that he gave to Iris
Barry: "And YET there is a lot in Stendhal, a sort of solidity which
Flaubert hasn't. A trust in the thing more than the word— which is
the solid basis; i.e., the thing is the basis.Not all of
I 111
'Flaubert's writings are worthy of praise, Pound believes: "To me, as
| poet, the Tentations is jettatura, it is the effect of Flaubert's time |
; on Flaubert! I mean he was interested in certain questions now dead
i as mutton, because he lived in a certain period; fortunately he
j managed to bundle these matters into one or two books and keep them I
j out of his work on contemporary subjects. . . . ("Ulysses," Literary
i Essays, p. 406). Pound is quite aware of the possible dangers in- j
i I
; volved in following Flaubert too closely; he warns of the adverse j
; !
i
consequences of indiscriminately modeling one's work on Flaubert's:
i
'"The followers of Flaubert deal in exact presentation. They are often
so intent on exact presentation that they neglect intensity, selec
tion, and concentration" ("Dubliners," Literary Essays, p. 399). In
i contrast, Pound tells us that James Joyce "excels most of the impres-
'sionist writers because of his more rigorous selection, because of his
| exclusion of all unnecessary detail . . . Mr. Joyce's more rigorous
j selection of the presented detail marks him, I think, as belonging to
;my own generation, that is, to the 'nineteen-tens1 not to the decade j
!between 'the nineties' and today" (p. 401-2). In contrast to those
writers whose adherence to Flaubert's principles led to a lack of
! "selection, concentration, and intensity" (Literary Essays, p. 399),
James Joyce is a creative, vital heir of Flaubert. In "Ulysses,"
| Pound tells us, "Joyce has taken up the art of writing where Flaubert
!left it" (p. 403). Although Joyce began with Flaubert as a model,
i
!"In Dubliners and The Portrait he had not exceeded the Trois Contes
jor L'Education" (p. 403). However, Joyce matures beyond his models:
! 112
| "in Ulysses he has carried on a process begun in Bouvard et Pecuchet;
j
! he has brought it to a degree of greater efficiency, of greater com-
; pactness; he has swallowed the Tentation de St. Antoine whole. .
■ p. 403). Ulysses, Pound asserts, continues the process begun by
I Flaubert: 11. . . it does complete something begun in Bouvard and
it does add definitely to the international store of literary tech
nique1 1 (p. 405). Joyce, in Ulysses, surpasses his mentor: "Ulysses,"
! Pound believes, "has more form than any novel of Flaubert's" (p. 403).
Joyce's work also is more condensed than Flaubert's: . . this
variegation of dialects allows Joyce to present his matter; his tones
I of mind, very rapidly . . . it is more rapid than the record of
received ideas' in Bouvard et Pecuchet" 9p. 405). Joyce begins as
an impressionist, a follower of Flaubert; but he goes beyond the tradi-
i tion he has inherited. He adds his own accomplishments, his own
i
!creative values "to the international store of literary technique"
: (p. 405). Pound suggests that this ability to contribute to literary
tradition defines a writer's critical ability as well: "The best
!criticism of any work, to my mind the only criticism of any work of
:art that is of any permanent or even moderately durable value, comes
ifrom the creative writer or artist who does the next job; and not,
i
|not ever, from the young gentlemen who make generalities about the
I
I creator. . . . Joyce and perhaps Henry James are critics of Flaubert"
; (Ulysses," Literary Essays, p. 406). In direct contrast to Joyce's
i
!accomplishments, we are told that Mauberley becomes
113
Incapable of the least utterance or composition,
I Emendation, conservation of the "better tradition,"
Refinement of medium, elimination of superfluities,
August attraction or concentration.
Hugh Witemeyer in Forms and Renewal concludes that Mauberley "is
| particularly unable to establish a fruitful relationship between his
|
i own work and a living poetic tradition" (p. 180). Mauberley, then,
j
j exemplifies those followers of Flaubert who "neglect intensity,
|
I selection, and concentration"; he represents a weaker direction of
|
i impressionism than, for example, Joyce;
j
| Aside from the way in which Mauberley answers to Pound's
j
| description of the inferior impressionist, there is additional evi-
! dence within the poem that supports the association of Mauberley with
| Flaubert.
| In spite of the indications that Pound did admire Flaubert's
| work, critics have been puzzled by the absence of evidence that Pound
| used Flaubert as a model in Hugh Selwyn Mauberley. John J. Espey
. in Ezra Pound's Mauberley, points out "Gautier's almost complete dis-
! placement of Flaubert" (p. 39) as an exemplar in Mauberley. However,
Flaubert, he adds, is not altogether absent from the poem. An in
direct allusion to Flaubert in Poem IV of the sequence links his
| work not to Pound, but to Mauberley: "in spite of Gautier's almost
complete displacement of Flaubert for Mauberley, Flaubert is still
demonstrably present, though in a series of passages where one would
least expect to find him: Hugh Selwyn Mauberley's voyage of revery
among the Pacific islands" (p. 39). The island imagery in Poem IV
directly relates it to one of Flaubert's novels:
114
All but two of the physical details used in the descrip
tion of the Moluccas here are little more than the standard
cliches of the archipelago. But two details are altogether
I out of the ordinary--the flamingoes and the simoon. They
j are out of the ordinary because they are altogether out of
j place geographically, there being no flamingoes in the
Moluccas and the sand-laden wind of Africa and Persia
j carrying no farther than India. What we have here is
Carthage and Flaubert's African travels, with the birds'
very natural pose possibly suggested by nl'ibis rose” and
"I1ibis, le bee dans son jabot" of Gautier's Nostalgies
i d'Obelisques. The palms, the coral, the sand, the quiet
| water, the flamingoes, all occur early in Salammbo* (p. 39).
|These particular allusions, which establish Mauberley's connection
I
! with Flaubert's Salammbd, also carry the full weight of Pound's
j
iopinion of their source. Pound does not intend these allusions as a
I tribute to Flaubert's Salammbfl. "SalammbQ IS dull and tedious,
i
I
j Pound tells Iris Barry. In a list of recommended works for all
| students of, literature, Pound includes a qualified comment on Flaubert
| . . . the minimum basis for a sound and liberal education
| in letters
CONFUCIUS--In full . . .
! HOMER--In full . . .
j OVID— And the Latin 'personal' poets, Catullus and Propertius.
DANTE--'And his circle'; . . .
FLAUBERT (omitting Salammbo' and the Tentation) . .
jFlaubert's errors in SalammbO were exposed in Laforgue's writing,
j Pound declares: "Laforgue's Salome is the real criticism of
i
! Salammbd.
!
Pound tells us that Mauberley's "true Penelope/Was Flaubert."
In Poem IV we discover Mauberley has arrived at his final destination,
j
land it.-is a landscape of Flaubert's making. Mauberley's ultimate end,
I
| his "homecoming" Pound purposefully places in the setting, with all
115
the incumbent assocations, of Flaubert's (to Pound's mind) worst
i writing. Just as Elpenor met his end on Circe's isle, so does Mauber-
| ley meet downfall in his Circe's (Flaubert's) isle,
j Elpenor's fall from Circe's roof was due to his over indul-
! gence as well as chance, Pound notes in his retelling of the Odyssean
i episode:
j
| 'Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast?
I Cam'st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?' And he in
heavy speech:
'ill fate and abundant wine! I slept in Circe's ingle,
going down the long ladder unguarded, I fell. . .
! Analogously, Mauberley's end also results from overindulgence and
i "ill fate." We are told that Mauberley "drank ambrosia" in Poem II;
; in aesthetic terms, this refers to the impressionist's absorption of
i
i pleasurable sensations. Hugh Witemeyer explains this situation,
j
I summarizing: "The impressionist is the 'toy of circumstance' in that
|
; he is played upon by sensory impressions, and does not rearrange or
|
! alter them. . . . Pound asserted that the impressionist derives his
pleasure 'from the stroking and pushing of the retina by light waves
| of various colours.'. . . Mauberley in Part II becomes increasingly
]
j passive, increasingly a 'toy of circumstance' and a prisoner of his
j own i m p r e s s i o n s ."33 "ANANGKE prevails" when Mauberley becomes
j
j A consciousness disjunct,
Being but this overblotted
Series
Of intermittences;
Mauberley's overindulgence in the absorption of impressions, "inter
mittences," duplicates Flaubert's error in SalammbQ. Pound reveals
! that he considers Salammb'Q*'s major flaw to be the overflowing
116
verbiage, the excess of recorded impressions, in a book review
written for The Dial; "Suzanne et le Pacifique, Jean Giraudoux1
romance of the young lady from the suburbs marooned on a South Sea
Island . . . Giraudoux piling up objective detail in a welter of
words, trying to construct, and succeeding, along lines which La
forgue had used in satirizing the overloading of SalammbS.Pound
also identifies Flaubert's fault as excessive description in his
essay "Irony, Laforgue, and some Satire": Laforgue . . . laughed out
the errors of Flaubert, i.e,, the clogging and cumbrous historical
detail" (1917; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 282). Mauberley's critical
as well as artistic burial place is, appropriately, the island
representing an area, a novel, of deadly excess. Pound approaches
Flaubert as Ulysses approaches Circe: both explorers are aware of
the usefulness each sorcerer can yield if properly mastered. But
both Pound and Ulysses are wary of intemperate devotion to these
objects of their attention. For Pound, Flaubert is not "His true
Penelope." Mauberley may have thought Flaubert was Pound's right
fully wedded mate; but he was mistaken. Mauberley, less perceptive
than Pound, fatally erred in mistaking Circe for Penelope.
Pound offers a further explanation of the appropriateness of
i using isle imagery to create Mauberley's burial place. Explaining
j the significance of his title in a series of articles labelled "The
Island of Paris," Pound also suggests the meaning he had in mind as
he wrote Poem IV: "I have called these briefest of notes The Island
i
i
| of Paris with symbolic intent, for the literary life of Paris is
117
insular— they know even less of the outer world than do the elder
j generation of English. . . ."35
Mauberley's "isolation/Which these presents place/Under a
I more tolerant, perhaps, examination" corresponds to the insular
i
i environment Pound found in Paris. This island of Paris offers a
j mecca for artists; but, like Circe's isle, it has its dangers:
I
I "Paris, the 'paradise' of artists irrespective of their merit or
i
| demerit, lying like the background of Rodenbach's portrait, invites
j one to anything but a critical attitude."36 We have already seen
! that it is Mauberley's lack of such a critical attitude that leads
I
: to his downfall.
i
i The island imagery of Mauberley's burial place connects
i
i .
| Mauberley with the excessive impressionism of Flaubert s followers,
j
! not only through Flaubert's Salammbc?, but also through an historical
| example, one of Pound's contemporaries in London. Hugh Witemeyer
; has told us that "Mauberley is not modeled on any particular histor
ical person, and to search for his 'original' is to misunderstand
Pound's intention. He is the type of the impressionist . . . ."
1 Yet Pound did not invent his critical antagonists during these London
I
i years out of thin air. Regardless of the care and complexity with
which Pound has drawn Mauberley, his persona is partially based on
| Pound's actual observations of his contemporaries. One critic,
writing in opposition to Vorticism, is too much like Mauberley for
us to ignore him. I believe that many of Mauberley's attributes were
suggested to Pound in articles that appeared regularly in the Egoist,
118
written by Huntley Carter. The writings of Huntley Carter are too
numerous to allow us to do justice to a comparison of his views with
| Pound's. Also, Carter's present literary oblivion possibly precludes
j
| the reader's interest in such a comparison. (We recall that Pound
|predicted such a fate for Mauberley). However, some of Huntley
i
|Carter's opinions on art offer a direct contrast with Pound's, and
j suggest ways in which Mauberley similarly differs from Pound.
! In an article entitled "Poetry Versus Imagism," printed in The
j
i
| Little Review, Huntley Carter defined his position in opposition to
| the Imagists. His essential argument was that Imagist art was
; intellectual, and his own view of art was emotional. After quoting
ja long section on the history of Imagism, Mr. Carter records his
! response to the Imagist poems:
i
! After reading the Imagists' theories I read their verse.
| Without, however, recovering my emotion. It left me cold,
j I asked myself if poetry had ceased to run through me. Was
I no longer its agent? Had intellect interposed to censor
it— with form? In other words, was my conception of poetry
| wrong? Was the Imagists' conception wrong? . . . To me
poetical expression was really an abstraction of the individ
ualizing features of a spiritual experience received and
transmitted in an instant of time. . . . ^
Intellectualizing poetry, Carter believes, destroys poetry: "I
j suppose only the poet who proceeds upon instinct and despises method-
| ical verse-making, recognizes the stupidity of trying to express
poetry in terms of intellectual states of mind. To him, the vision
of poetry in terms of cerebralism can only have one effect, namely
to kill poetry" (p. 28). Pound agrees with Carter concerning the
importance of emotion in art. In "Breviora," published in The Little
119
Review, for example, Pound explainsi "Poetry is the statement of
overwhelming emotional values."^® In The Spirit of Romance, Pound
declares, "Poetry is a sort of inspired mathematics, which gives us
equations, not for abstract figures, triangles, spheres, and the like,
l|OQ
but equations for the human emotions. The vorticist position even
endorses Carter's beliefs regarding the crucial significance of
natural instinct in art. Gaudier-Brzeska affirms that "The modern
sculptor is a man who works with instinct. lasUMs inspiring force.
His work is emotional. . . . That this sulpture has no relation to
classic Greek, but that it is continuing the tradition of the bar
baric peoples of the earth for whom we have sympathy and admira
tion."^® However, the difference between the direction Huntley
Carter takes from these basic assumptions and the direction the
vorticist pursues is distinct and crucial. For Mr. Carter, emotion
is the sole ingredient necessary for art. For the vorticists,
emotion must be combined with intellect. The failure of Imagists,
Mr. Carter declares, is that they rely on intellect as well as
emotion: "The fact of the matter is that if an Imagist has a
passionate instantaneous impression to start with he does not end
with it. He simply destroys it before he has got very far with
intellectual or technical theories. "^ Carter believes that "Poetry
makes itself felt through the senses, not through the intellect"
(p. 33). Whereas, Pound asserts, "one, as a human being, cannot
pretend fully to express oneself unless one express instinct and
intellect together . . . "Good art," Pound declares, may express
120
emotion, but it is an "expression of emotional values which do not
give way to the intellect. Bad art is merely an assertion of emotion,
I
which intellect, common-sense, knocks into a cocked hat."^ For Pound
and the Imagists, whose entire aesthetic is based on the poetic
| juncture of emotion and reason: "an 'image* is that which presents
an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time,
| Huntley Carter's views were anathema.
i
| Using the pages of contemporary journals in London, such as
The Egoist, Carter formed a determined resistance to the Imagists and
j continued to attack their theories. He himself suggests his views
i
j are diametrically opposed to imagist thought and separates the two
! >
| aesthetics into two distinct camps:
| Before me were two paths. . . . After a certain primitive
stage of development is reached the art impulse is directed
into two channels. . . . The rare cosmical mind of the
j artist lit by the eternal flame alone, increases its power
of absorbing and reflecting the universal qualities: the
| uncosmical mind of the artist inurned in materialism,
I gradually loses this power altogether. Thus the perennial
primitive continues an uninterrupted course on the wings
! of unending emotion, increasingly manifesting the facts
and phenomena of vital art expression in silence, awe,
aspiration, then the inner necessity for creation, and
i then the soaring flight; while the ephemeral civilised
swarthing IsicJ himself in ever-thickening layers of
culture, custom, servility, sinks deeper into the pit of
oblivion.^
At the approximate time this article by Carter appeared with its
distinction between the "absorbing and reflecting" mind and the
"civilised swarthing" intellectual mind; Pound was presenting his
own distinctions: In an article which Pound explains "was for the
most part a closer form of a rather informal lecture given at the
Rebel Art Center in Ormond Street the preceding spring,"^ he offers
I his familiar differentiation: "There are two opposed ways of thinking
i
I
|of a man: firstly, you may think of him as that toward which percep-
i
!
|tion moves, as the toy of circumstance, as the plastic substance
j receiving impressions; secondly, you may think of him as directing a
I certain fluid force against circumstance, as conceiving instead of
!
merely reflecting and observing"(p. 89). Huntley Carter identifies
himself solely with the receptacle receiving impressions; he describes
i
his associations with aesthetic experiences as the passive absorption
of sensations: "I was saturated with this precious element as a
jsponge can be saturated with rich perfume, and like the sponge was
|
i
|prepared to saturate in turn. In my belief, poetry is the spiritually
j
isaturating element" (|Poetry Versus Imagism," Little Review, p. 32).
I '
1
jMr. Carter's analogy with the sponge offers a metaphorical basis for
!
|the description of Mauberley as
| A consciousness disjunct,
Being but this overblotted
Series
Of intermittences;
jHuntley Carter, like Mauberley, represents what Hugh Witemeyer has
jtermed in Forms and Renewal "a type of the passive and superficial
impressionist sensibility" (p. 178). Whether or not Huntley Carter
furnished the living prototype for Pound's persona, Mauberley; it
seems certain that Carter represents the same aesthetic forces as
Mauberley. The discovery of Mr. Carter's work makes it unnecessary
to assume that Mauberley must represent an extension of Pound's own
122
self. Mauberley, rather than expressing Pound as he was, or is, or
could be, presents a diametrically opposed state of mind from Pound's.
Evidence that Pound read and responded to Huntley Carter's
articles can be found in the letters to the editor columns of The
|
j Egoist.
I Pound could not resist replying to Mr. Carter, although his
j
|response is thinly veiled behind a persona who ostensibly fully agrees
!
with Mr. Carter. Pound's letter to the editor of The Egoist is quoted
here in full:
j
| Dear Editor, if yewll fergive me fer being so konfideshul
| loike wot i wants to say is this that ere Untly Carter es
a jolly good chap e is wot i allways ses is wots the good of
j it all— all this ere poetry and stile and tawkin and jawin
! yer ead off like the misus does if yer as a drop but Untly
| es got stile e as tawk abaht shikespier and g. r. Sims wy
| they aint nowheres in it. i ses give me a feller wot knows
i is bisness is ses an dont go gassin abaht things wot fellers
j like us dont know and dont want ter know i ses oo wants ter
ere a lot o'jaw abaht immiges and forun langwidges and sich?
call it dam blarsted forun cheek i do if youll pawdon me
! missy fer sayin so thow yewre a b.a. still i rekkon the bord
! schools good enuf fer Untly and me and chaps like us wot
as to rool the kuntry.
dear missy i wants yer ter write an tell Untly that me
an my mates we loike is stile we do an if he loikes ter kum
dahn ar elley-baht arf pas nine satdy nite weel giv im a nice
ot dish a pigs trotters and sum beer an pudin an if so be e
loikes a gaime o aipny nep we don min taikin a hand or a
bit o kokfightin like jus ter amewse us pore fellers an tell
! Untly from us that e ort to be primminnister e ort its a
| shime thats wot it is fer a feller like that ter be waisted
on jurnalissum dear missy tell im not ter ferget next satdy
aft pas nine crooks elly of kent rowd clos ter the ol megpy
and gawd bless yer Untly. Henery Hawkins.^'
The dialogue between Carter and the Imagists continued through the
issues of The Egoist, The New Age, and the Little Review; inevitably,
the views of the opposing camps were irreconcilable. For example,
123
Huntley Carter and John Cournos^® exchanged insults with varying
degress of humor, and presented fundamentally different views on the
|nature of man, poetry, and the relation between the two. Cournos
i
isided with the imagist position, championing the cause for intellect
i
|joined with emotion to produce poetry; while Carter maintained his
|position that reason was opposed to emotion and destroyed poetic
! inspiration.^
Even Richard Aldington responded to Carter's writings. Ald
ington realized that however erroneous or ridiculous Carter's opinions
jmay seem, at that time they represented a current of public opinion.
!ln a letter to the editor of The Egoist, June 1, 1915, Aldington
iclarified his Imagist position against the Carters of the world:
| As the nearest available Imagist, perhaps I may be
permitted to comment . . . on Mr. Carter's letter. I am
; not quite sure that I know what Mr. Carter means, but I
j think he means that it is useless for a man to study classic
| quantity and medieval rhyme and modern free verse, if he has
; no particular impulse or mood to make those studies valuable
j as a means of expression. If that is what Mr. Carter means
| I agree with him. I will also agree that it is useless to
try and teach a dumb man to lecture or a lame man to break
the hundred yards record . . .
Now poetry is not so very unlike athletics. You may have
| no aptitude for it, and then all the training in the world
I won't get you in first; you may shape very well, but if you
| don't train you will be an "also ran." I believe in having
j an aptitude and in training it; Mr. Carter believes in having
| an aptitude and not training it . . .
j We take for granted that we have the essentials of poetry
! in us or we should not attempt to write. We are now after
clarity of form, precision of expression. Mr. Carter, like
the majority of our fellow citizens, does not value these
things; we find them present in every work of art which is
beautiful and permanently interesting; hence our anxiety
to attain by practice that clarity and that precision which
practice alone can give (p. 99).
124
Aldington's belief that Carter's aesthetic values were shared by "the
majority of our fellow citizens" explains why the Imagists even
bothered to reply to Carter: Carter embodied those attitudes and
opinions that prevented public understanding or acceptance of the
Imagist poetry. Carter represented forces constantly confronting and
I obstructing the new school of poetry Pound championed.
| Huntley Carter can be associated with Hugh Selwyn Mauberley
i
jnot only by a comparison of theoretical points of view, but also
|
|through the imagery of the second sequence. Both Mauberley and Carter
i
|may represent a type of the impressionist; both may represent aspir-
!ing critics and poets who hold fundamentally different views from
i
|Pound and the vorticists; but Carter comes to the same fate as Mauber-
|ley: both are obliterated in the landscape of the south sea islands.
|Mr. Carter suggested that the ultimate manifestation of artistic
jpowers was annihilation: "the verbal poet is simply a projection of
iman's lost capacity to poetize himself and for himself. That is, the
power to obliterate himself physically" ("Poetry Versus Imagism,"
Little Review, p. 29). He declares: "Now the reason why Imagism
i
I fails as poetry is precisely because it shifts the interest from the
jworld in solution to a group of too, too solid poets. . . . Before the
Imagists can claim that they are making an absolutely new start in
poetry, they must learn to obliterate their corporeal natures. The
moment they do so obliterate themselves, that moment one can safely
say 'Now we are coming to poetry'" (p. 37). We recall that Mauber
ley 's "desire for survival" was "Faint in the most strenuous moods;"
125
and it results in such corporeal obliteration:
Amid the precipitation, down-float
Of insubstantial manna,
Lifting the faint susurrus
Of his subjective hosannah.
Huntley Carter not only suggests the obliteration of the
poet's "self," but he also suggests that the place of annihilation be
a south sea island. In an article for the Egoist, "The House that the
! Set-Backs Built," Mr. Carter again criticizes intellectualizing art,
and proposes a remedy:
I Classical scholars and specialized intellects, writers
of no real account on Art, Drama and Religion, are the
j product of civilisation and it is they who preach that
j Art is "social in origin" and begins and ends with civili-
j sation. If such persons would divest themselves of
| civilised ways, ideas, thoughts and clothing and retire
to some South Sea Island and subsist on roots and feeling
! for a time it might occur to them that the origin and
nature of Art are to be sought in a world of emotional
reality, not in one of intellectual reality. . . .
I
| Carter's suggestion to unload the intellectuals on a desert
!
| island is not merely a guise to rid the state of them. Islands
j
! represent the environment where his own feelings originated; where he
|
|discovered what he felt to be experiential evidence to support his
:views on poetry. In his article "Towards a Human Aesthetic," Huntley
|Carter outlines his beliefs, recapitulating opinions he had previously
|stated; for example, in passages already quoted. His experience
suggests a parallel with Mauberley's aesthetic direction and destina
tion. "Art," declares Carter, "is a spiritual and vital force.
This force, Carter has explained, can be interrupted, corrupted, and
destroyed by the intellect— especially by the rational forces
126
represented by civilization. He describes "the discovery of ray (Art)
soul, the loss of it through close contact with civilisation and its
recovery under conditions approximating to those of pre-civilised
times" (p. 197). Only by rejecting civilisation and by relying on
pure emotion can the artist express what Carter believes to be pure
art: "He will become revitalized by being set free to the force and
entering the paradise of Art-expression once more" (p. 197).
For Carter, this "paradise takes the form of the desert
island, the insular environment totally removed from corrupting civil
isation. Accompanying "a celebrated anthropologist (p. 198), Carter
tells us, he began "moving about the Pacific Islands" (p. 197): "I
spent two years in the Pacific Islands, during which time I verified
my guess that Art is a great spiritual and vitalising force ever
seeking to externalise itself through man and nature" (p. 198). The
escape to the desert isle represents for Carter a means of blotting
out not only civilisation, but one's intellect and one's individual
ity. For this impressionist, art is a force to which one yields;
one surrenders to emotion, and seeks oblivion in the experience. For
Huntley Carter, the search for art that leads him to idealize the
island of isolation also leads him to the desire for obliteration.
The imagery of Poem IV tells us that Mauberley's quest also terminated
in the island environment; his final destination becomes "Tawn fore
shores /Washed in the cobalt of oblivions." To condemn Mauberley, as
a type of the impressionist, to oblivion on a desert isle may have
seemed merely an act of zealous revenge on the part of the vorticist
! 127
: poet. However, according to such an aesthetic as that recorded by
Huntley Carter, obliteration is the inevitable ending to the impres
sionist practices. Huntley Carter offers graphic and chilling
evidence that Hugh Selwyn Mauberley is not just a quixotic creation,
a mere figment of Pound's imagination, but a portrait drawn from
historical example.
Viewing Huntley Carter's writings as one source Pound could
have used as a basis for Hugh Selwyn Mauberley helps to illumine
portions of the poem. Pound's poem does not record his fencing with
windmills, with projections of himself; it documents his struggle
against attitudes and ideas that were constantly expressed in London
journals and that he believed were obstructing his poetry. Carter's
ideas, however silly they may now seem to us, at the time, filled
hundreds of pages in London journals and represented what such writers
as Pound, John Cournos, and Richard Aldington believed to be a popular
current of opinion. When Huntley Carter is understood as the embodi
ment of those attitudes that Pound and the Imagists opposed, the
evidence of his writings lends credence to a view of Mauberley as a
distinct entity, a persona not to be confused with Pound. Mauberley,
then, is an example of what Pound terms the inferior impressionist.
As an impressionist, Mauberley records and absorbs experiences,
offering a parallel to Pound's contemporary critic Huntley Carter as
well as a direct contrast to Pound's method. Huntley Carter offers
another analogy that may have contributed to Pound's description of
Mauberley.
128
Carter regarded the artist as a pure medium for recording
impressions. Describing how he originally formed this idea, he
suggests he had received this attitude toward art from his father:
"He had formulated some hypothesis, but I cannot say what it was. It
may have been: "art is pure spirit; the artist is a highly sensilised
instrument for receiving and transmiting pute spirit. . . . Let me
say instead of pure spirit, Art is the spirit of Life, that is, that
substance which informs matter and immortalises form. Thus Art-forms
are Spirit forms and for the matter of that, Soul-forms. Pound
agrees that the artist is a sensitive recorder of impressions. In
The Life of Ezra Pound, Noel Stock quotes an interview that appeared
in the Paris edition of the New York Herald immediately after Pound
had departed London for Paris in 1920:
Mr. Ezra Pound has just arrived in Paris from London . . .
'England is largely insensitised,' Mr. Pound continued,
'suffering from the same poison that exists in German
kultur and in the American university system, and which
aims at filling the student's head full of facts to paralyse
him with data instead of developing his perspicacity. I
suppose the word sensitive gives an impression of femininity.
And yet any scientist is anxious to have his instruments
highly sensitised.^3
The critical difference between Pound's and the impressionist Huntley
Carter's view, however, is that for Pound, the artist is not just a
recorder. In his essay "Henry James," Pound explains that the degree
of lasting value an artist may have relies in part on the finely
drawn degrees of discrimination, or the far reaches of the sensi
tivity of the artist as a recording instrument. Ezra Pound declares
that his "interest in a writer being primarily in his degree of
I 129
I sensitization; and on this count we may throw out the whole Wells-
jBennett period, for what interest can we take in instruments which
must by nature miss two thirds of the vibrations in any conceivable
situation? In James the maximum sensibility compatible with efficient
writing was present."-^
Mauberley's capacity as a recorder is compared with a seismo
graph, an instrument used to detect movement of the earth. The
implication is that whereas this instrument is capable of recording
major movements, changes in the surface of the earth; it is incapable
of detecting less pronounced movements; it is insensitive to more
than "two thirds of the vibrations" that occur.
Pound, however, does use the seismograph analogy in another
comparison, and does not emphasize its limitations here: "These are
bad expressions if they lead to think of the artist as wholly passive,
as a mere received of impressions. The good artist is perhaps a good
seismograph, but the difference between man and a machine is that man
can in some degree 'start his machinery going.' He can, within
limits, not only record but create.This then, reasserts the
difference between Mauberley, the passive recorder, and Pound, the
creative artist.
Mauberley is marked, then, as an inferior artist by Pound's
presentation of him as a passive recorder and as a receiver of im
pressions, rather than as an active, creative artist. Mauberley,
however, is not just a type of the impressionist. He is an example
of the artists and critics, occurring in all aesthetic schools, who
I :
| 130 i
|maintain a parasitic relationship with their aesthetic heritage. He j
I is an example of the imitators, copiers, and dilutors, who may rely
Ion a particular style, or a particular artist, but who cannot improve
upon the tradition they inherit.
Hugh Witemeyer suggests that Mauberley represents only the
impressionists: "In sum, the popular aesthetic of simple mimesis
( :
!seemed to Pound the antithesis of Vorticism. . . . Now the link
between this aesthetic and Mauberley's impressionism is that both are
(in Vorticist eyes, at least) mimetic theories.The aesthetic of
mimesis that Pound rejected however, appears not just in impressionist
work, but throughout the entire spectrum of art. Also, Pound does not
condemn imitation without qualification. Just as his views toward |
iimpressionists were tempered by his admiration of certain accomplish
ments of certain impressionists, (such as Flaubert or James Joyce),
so here his disapproval of mimetic approaches to art is tempered by
an awareness of the possible value of imitation.
In "Art Notes," for The New Age, Pound, writing as.B. H. Dias,
distinguishes between the two types of approaches to art: "There are
two kinds of painter's ability: the ability to copy a set mode with
| remarkable skill; and the ability to 'do something new,' to 'express'
or to open the beholder's eyes to some visual (or, perhaps, even
emotional or metaphysical) quality not before a p p r e h e n d e d ."57 The one
ability does not, of necessity, preclude the other; in fact, according
to Pound, creativity may emerge from an artist's efforts to emulate
his masters. In an analysis of Augustus John's etchings, for example,
131
Pound reveals his double-edged view of imitation:
When our eminent contemporary calls Rembrandt John's
only master in etching, we must, however, suppose that
he refers solely to questions of craft, for etching
would seem to have been John's medium for imitation and
experiment. By "imitation" I do not mean anything
derogative, nor does the term necessarily imply want of
inventiveness; every good artist, or at any rate, every
very comprehensive artist must be filled with curiosity
about the works of his predecessors; he will want to "see
if he can do it," he will wish to make analyses more
minute than can be made by any means.save that of doing
the thing with his own hand.^°
What makes the difference between the inferior, mere imitator, and
the progressive artist is that the creative artist can select, make
discriminations, study a variety of techniques from a variety of
masters. Imitation is a method of study, a means to the end of dis
covering what is of value in the tradition and in one's own talent,
for the creative artist. "Thus, in John's case," Pound continues,
"we find Rembrandt, Goya, Chardin, Millais, the pre-Raphaelites,
allegories, possibly Blake, and even a Belcher charwoman in the
etchings, just as we find Botticelli and the Italian primitives in
his painting. Much of this must be counted as study, as beneficent
and praiseworthy s t u d y ."^9 Imitation, then, when it relies, on the
knowledge of past tradition and is based on a critical investigation
and evaluation of our aesthetic heritage, can be a healthy, helpful
approach to art.^® But when it is a thoughtless mimicry, it becomes
a mockery of its model. Again and again in the art columns he wrote
for the New Age as B. H. Dias, Pound deplores the artist who mimes,
who dilutes and distorts the masters.
J f t
132
For example, in the review of the Royal Institute of Painter's
exhibit of water colors, Pound criticizes those artists who imitate
with no real understanding of their models and who offer no evidence
that they have tried to assimilate and advance the tradition: "Wynne
Apperley shows 'The mirror,' pre-Raphaelitism (i.e., worst phases of
D. G. Rossetti), aspiring toward nullity . . . Lieut. Christopher
Clark in 'Wartime on the Clyde' tries to exploit vorticist patterns
of ship-camouflage without leaving the safe haven of academic water
colour . . . Hal Hurst (354), cotton-bale parody of the worst botches
Rodin ever committed during his senility . . . "61 Pound concludes
that this exhibit "presents the accustomed expanse of cotton-wool, of
pseudo-imitators of Meissonnier, of, for the presumably 110th time,
fake Alma Tademas, the Hydrotherapic nudes . . ."(p. 88). Pound
continually condemns the work that tries to fake or copy existing
techniques, including those who imitate Vorticism: "The 'Camouflaged
Ships' pictures at the Goupil have no aesthetic value whatever. It
is apparent that the camouflagers applied vorticism to the ships;
vorticism being apparently the only art-theory in England which is
based on the actual effect of form and colour on the human eye. Had
the war come in the days of Manet, they would have used, or have tried
to use, impressionism, and spotted the ships in small d a b s . "62 in
contrast to the counterfeiters who rob the tradition, Pound recog
nizes the authentic artist who not only borrows from, but adds to
the heritage of aesthetic techniques. In addition to the examples
already noted of James Joyce and Augustus John, Pound singles out the
133
work of Charles Ricketts to praise. Pound's approval of Ricketts'
work is particularly noteworthy because Ricketts is not a Vorticist,
nor can he be identified with any known school. Ricketts, Pound
discovers,
is contemptuous of all contemporary clamours; secondly,
there is any amount of technique in the picture; thirdly,
if the desirable aim of a twentieth century artist is to
produce "something like an old master," Mr. Ricketts has
done it. . . .Mr. Ricketts, in utter defiance of every
current opinion and of all the "forces" or inertias about
him, has taken a traditional subject, saturated with
associations (Spanish play, French play, opera with a
libretto in Italian, poems by Baudelaire, etc.). . . .
But "Don Juan" infinitely like an old master only could
have been done to-day; and is quite unlike any old master
in particular.^3
"Charles Ricketts's painting 'Don Juan,'" Pound continues,
is a bibelot, an objet d'art, a speciality, whatever you
like; out of the "movement" and the movements," but it is
undoubtedly the result of great care, skill, experience,
and it calls into court every assumption now gobbled by
every art-public, and every art-student-bohemia. Of its
kind you can't beat it; you can't explain it away; you may
detest, dislike it, ridicule it as an affectation, as
millionaire's furniture, but this will not annihilate it.
It is not an appeal for money, or sympathy, or admiration
from people differently constituted; it is not a fake, a
shift, a bluff; it is an assertion--of nearly every painting
ideal now out of office, and as such it is intensely inter
esting. I am not expressing one jot of sympathy. But a
man cannot do any sort of thing so well, so completely,
with so great technical skill, without the result being
"there"; without its existing in a way which the shoals of
rubbishy things at the Academy, and the hoards of careless
imitations of modes of the moment simply cannot achieve.^
Mr. Ricketts, Pound emphasizes, has not copied, but he has studied
other works of art. Ricketts has drawn from his historical heritage,
but he has used tradition in the most admirable sense: Ricketts
"method of painting is also soaked in tradition, a POLYGLOT tradition"
134
(p. 155), Pound notes; "Mr. Ricketts's work is a work of scholar
ship. He has not cribbed an old master, or the style of any old
master; he has picked here and there, and worked out with infinite
care a perfectly unified style" (p. 155). To dompare Ricketts's
methods, (as seen by Pound) with Mauberley's (as presented by Pound),
lifts the implicit debate between two opposing aesthetic theories in
Hugh Selwyn Mauberley out of the local and narrow limits of a conflict
between Impressionism and Vorticism or Imagism; and into a funda
mental contrast between imitative and creative artists that goes
beyond identification with any particular school. In contrast to the
fakers or imitators who try to copy a specific style or a technique
belonging to a particular artist, Pound finds Rickets's methods "show
comparison, analysis of a hundred old pictures, a care greater than
Tiepolo's; the work of a connoisseur."^ Mr. Ricketts's "Don Juan,"
Pound continues, "at first glance seems to be remembering the departed
glories of Tiepolo. . . . I said 'remembering Tiepolo'; but note how
different this 'remembering' is from that of the people who discon
nectedly fake a 'Pier della Erancesca' or some primitive; or from the
Academic remembrance based on traditions not the best of their kind"
(p. 155). Pound may possibly be recalling this comparison when he
writes that Mauberley's art is
Not the full smile,
His art, but an art
In profile;
Colourless
Pier Francesca
Pisanello lacking the skill
To forge Achaia.
! 135
I
I Pound suggests here that Mauberley's method of imitation produces the
!sort of dilution and fakery that he, as B. H. Dias, had condemned.
Pound admired both Pier della Francesca and Pisanello as
imasters of their art, and as important contributors to tradition.
;Pound states, "A man who wants simply to establish his axes of refer
ence by knowing the best of each kind of written thing, as he would
establish his axes of reference for painting by knowing a few pictures
by Cimbue, Giotto, Piero della Francesca, Ambrogio de Predis, etc."
"If you'd read Pisanello's letter (vide Canto XXVI) and then look at
■some Pisanello medals or frescoes you wd. be able to work out my
opinion of Mr. Gill on the subjekk of hos6es."*^ The letter Pound
quotes in Canto XXVI reveals that Pisanello's knowledge of horses
enabled him not only to draw them accurately, but also to apply that
knowledge to evaluate and select horses for his patron to purchase.
Samuel Reinach, in his critical history of art, Apollo, praises Pisan-
ello’s abilities: "Veronese Pisanello, the engraver of admirable
medals, a draughtsman of genius, and, further, the first Italian who
observed animals, and rendered their attitudes and action faith
fully."^^ Piero della Francesca studies in anatomy and his applica-
i
ition of scientific knowledge to painting are revealed in his study,
"De Prospective Pengindi": "mathematician as well as artist, he
authored a treatise on perspective that is a classic. He painted
with geometrical precision and excelled at using light to reveal
;form."68 Both of these artists represent innovators in the tradition
;— both advanced their art beyond current techniques and preferences;
136
yet also, both of these artists drew from their artistic heritage and
assimilated and synthesized earlier achievements in the arts. Both
Pisanello and Piero della Francesca revived classical artistry. In
I
j The Story of Painting, H. W. Janson and D. J. Janson trace the major j
; art schools, revealing, that the early renaissance Italian artists
I
| "always thought of themselves as the rivals of classical Antiquity,
! |
!not as mere imitators."^9 Of Piero della Francesca, Janson and Janson |
; |
| maintain, "we may well compare Piero's style to the finest classical j
i |
jworks of the Ancients . . ." (p. 53). Pisanello revived the classi- j
; cal medallist's art. But both artists merged classical concerns with j
! j
other influences, as well. Pisanello, from the North Italian school, j
i I
! and Piero of the Central Italian school, had studied classical art;
! j
|but the artists blended classical knowledge in reproducing living
j form with medieval belief emphasizing spirituality. S. Reinach
i i
I explains: "Florentine painting moves between two extremes, mystic j
!suavity and melancholy power. . . . Classic art gave it lessons in
| design, and furnished it with examples of the correct interpretation j
jof forms, but left it entirely untouched by its spirit. All the roots j
; I
iof the Florentine soul were deep-set in the Middle Ages ..." !
i ;
(Apollo, pp. 158-9). Both Piero della Francesca and Pisanello used j
;their heritage; both studied the tradition; but both also contributed
; !
!their own virtu to their art. Hugh Witemeyer cites Pound's explana- j
|tion of virtu and its relationship to great art:
| The soul of each man is compounded of all the elements !
| of the cosmos of souls, but in each soul there is some one !
I element which predominates, which is in some peculiar and |
I intense way the quality or virtu of the individual; in no |
| j
two souls is this the same. It is by reason of this virtu
that a given work of art persists. It is by reason of
this virtu that we have one Catullus, one Villon; by
reason of it that no amount of technical cleverness can
produce a work having the same charm as the original.
. . . So far as mortal immortality is concerned, the poet
need only discover his virtu and survive the discovery
long enough to write some few scant dozen verses— providing
that is, that he have acquired some reasonable technique,
this latter being the matter of a lifetime— or not
according to the individual facility.70
Pisanello and Piero della Francesca both discovered and developed
their virth; Mauberley did not.
Mauberley represents a "Colorless/Pier Francesca." But color
was Piero della Francesca's special contribution to the tradition.
Ernest DeWald, in his art history, Italian Painting, declares:
"Piero's accomplishments in the field of color are unique in all
Renaissance painting. Not until the time of Vermeer or until the
nineteenth century impressionists would color be studied in relation
to nature. Piero was the first realist in color.Pisanello,
DeWald explains, was a perfectionist: "A Medallist as well as a
painter . . . fond of bringing out the minutest details on his draw
ings and paintings. . . . His drawings of animals and birds, gathered
together in a sketchbook now in the Louvre, are astounding in their
wealth of accurate realistic detail" (Italian Painting, p. 193).
Pound was especially interested in Pisanello's ability to revive the
tradition of medal work, the making of medallions. Pound praises the
work of Pisanello by including an example of it in one of his books.
Pisanello's seal of the head of Salustio Malatesta serves as the
frontispiece to Guide to Rulchur. Pound states of the wafer of wax
138
composing this seal, "The Pisanello medals are known, the seals are
unknown or less known. I give the reproduction of this one to in
dicate the thoroughness of Rimini's civilization in 1460. . . ."72
He refers to the quality of this small seal as an example of
Pisanello's superior craftsmanship in the chapter "Examples of Civil
ization:" "You get civilization in the seals. . . . The little wafer
of wax between the sheets of letter paper in Modena is, culturally,
level with the Medallions. The Young Salustio is there in the wax
as Isotta and Sigismundo in the bronze discs of Pisanello. Intaglio
existed. Painting existed. The medal has never been higher. ..."
(p. 159). Pisanello was able to create Achaia, exemplar for Pound of
lofty civilization in the smallest example of his work. Pisanello's
particular virtu was the ability "To forge Achaia" in his "minutest
details" (Painting, p. 193). Mauberley does not appreciate and can
v 73
not duplicate the unique virtu of Piero della Francesca or Pisanello.
The copier, or dilutor, may be able to reproduce certain superficial
or artificial similarities of great artists; but the unique virtu,
or £lan, of the genius will always elude the imitator. S. Reinach
describes this phenomenon:
The dominant quality of Florentine sculpture, a quality
to be recognised also, though less definitely, in the painting,
is the delicate firmness of the lines, a something we might
call their "quality." Why is it that the copy of a master
piece is rarely itself a masterpiece? It is because the
personal sentiment of a great artist manifests itself not
only in the invention and disposition of the figures, but
in the infinitely subtle shades of form which escape the
attention of a copyist. . . . An artist of genius has the
faculty of infusing life into each sinuosity of contour.
. . . In a work of art the presence of dead lines and
! 139
! surfaces, that is to say, of flat or rounded surfaces,
insignificant and void of expression suffices to show that
| it is either a copy, or the work of a mediocre artist
j (Apollo, pp. 164-5).
jMauberley may try to copy, but he is unable to recreate Pisanello's
I or Piero's achievements in art. Mauberley represents the puerile
|imitator, rather than the creative, innovative artist who can con
tribute to, as well as borrow from, the tradition. If the distinction
Pound intends to make between Mauberley, inferior artist, and the
first-rate artist is that Mauberley is an imitator, a copier, rather
than an innovator, does Pound suggest this elsewhere in the poem than
besides in these two allusions?
We are, after all, told why Mauberley suffers "final Exclu
sion from the world of letters." It is "Non-esteem of self-styled
'his betters'" that leads to "his final/Exclusion from the world of
letters." Does this correspond to Mauberley's suggested situation as
an imitator? It would seem that Mauberley's imitation or copying of
(established artists would indicate that he esteems, rather than dis-
esteems "his betters."
In Pound's view, however, servile imitation does not imply
esteem/admiration, or appreciation for the masters.
In "Art Notes," Pound, as B. H. Dias, describes the difference
between esteem and imitation: "R. Leo's gun team is another diluta-
tion. In fact, the whole show is in the spirit of 'borrow but do not
admire,' of 'go behind,' 'follow in the track of,' but 'do not be led.'
;So far as is known these people have no admirations. If they have any
admiration it is wholly undiscoverable, and, in consequence, there is
! 140
;a pervasive lack of that tensity which even a poor artist may occa-
jsionally attain in a desparate struggle to equal or come near to a
ifine model. Mauberley may have tried to copy Flaubert, Pisanello,
iPiero, etc., but he does not know how to appreciate those qualities
! which mark them as first-rate artists. They are "his betters" because
:they are "self-styled." Mauberley can be categorized with those who
"borrow but do not admire."
There is additional evidence (within the poem) that supports
this view of Mauberley. Mauberley, we are told,
Turned from the "eau-forte
Par Jaquemart"
To the strait head
I Of Messalina:
The lines "eau-forte/Par Jaquemart," John Espey tells us, "acquire a
more specific meaning if one has at hand the 1884 edition of Emaux et
Cam£es published by Charpentier. Its title page reads in part:
THEOPHILE GAUTIER
EMAUX
et
cam£es
£dition definitive
AVEC UNE EAU - FORTE PAR J. JACQUEMART
1
Facing this, and enclosed in a medallionlike border, is the etching
itself, showing Gautier in three-quarter face . . ."(Ezra Pound1s
■ Mauberley, p. 32). Hugh Witemeyer analyzes Pound's technique in
presenting such oblique allusions: "the allusions and literary back
grounds in Pound's poems often require not only that the reader be
I 141
I
| able to identify them, but that he also know precisely what signifi-
: cance Pound attached to them. When Pound says 'Turned from the "eau-
i
I
I forte/Par Jaquemart,1 " not only do we need to know that he is refer
ring to the frontispiece of the 1884 edition of Gautier's Emaux et
j Cam^es; we also need to know what he thought of Gautier's achievement
in that book, if we are to evaluate Hugh Selwyn Mauberley's alleg
iances" (Forms and Renewal p. 11). Pound's intense admiration of
Gautier has already been discussed in the earlier, "Medallion" section
of this study. Pound used Gautier's work as a model; we also have
reason to suppose that Pound admired the artist's work in the frontis
piece.
In his discussion "Processes," appearing in "Art Notes,"
Pound reveals a qualified view of etching as an art medium:
The scope of etching is still, I think, open to dispute.
I cannot go the full length of the ultramodernist who has
called it "a series of fakes from one end to the other,"
or even of the more moderate disapprover who calls it "a
bad thing, on the whole."
. . .this medium which tends in the hands of ordinary
men to be extremely ordinary, to be, in brief, book plates
and book-illustrations has, at the hands of extraordinary
! men shown itself capable of most violent revolution. . . .^^
iAmong the list of those etchers Pound admires for their particular
jqualities, he includes ". . . Braquemond, Jaquemart,^ detail; ..."
(p. 456). In contrast to these masters, Pound states, "Against these
are the blurry and moody etchers" (p. 456). Donald Davie also notes
the same characteristic in Jacquemart's etching of Gautier, suggesting
Pound is implying that Mauberley turns away from the first-rate art
^exhibited in Emaux et Camdes: "Mauberley (whose career we. are
142 !
following as in a biography), is at this point turning in his art j
from the relatively full and detailed richness of the etcher's render-,
i
ing of reality to the severely selective art 'in profile' of the
engraver of Medallion" (Modern Age, p. 316). Based on what we know
of Pound's attitude toward Gautier's Emaux et Cam£es, and what appears;
to be his attitude of admiration toward Jacquemart's etching, we
expect to find that Mauberley turns from first-rate art, to inferior
art. Also, it has been tentatively established that Mauberley is an
imitative, rather than an innovative, artist. If this is an accurate
conclusion, then it should be supported by the imagery describing
Mauberley's choice of artistic direction. Is this, in fact, the case?
What does Mauberley choose instead of Pound's models? We are told
that Mauberley turns
To the strait head
Of Messalina:
But to what does Messalina refer? Mr. Davie suggests that "Messalina"
alludes to the classical art of engraving metal coins; and that
Mauberley turns to "the severely selective art 'In profile' of the
engraver of Medallions" (The Modern Age, p. 196). The implications
of Pound's poem are that Mauberley is making an erroneous choice; one
which will eventually condemn him to literary oblivion. The reasons
why this is so, however, are not yet clear. The art of striking
metal coins is certainly, as Mr. Davie tells us, "severely selective."
In this regard, however, it is like the best work of Flaubert. Mr.
Davie explains, "A very little knowledge of Flaubert will reveal that
the French novelist differs from his English contemporaries, at least
jin intention, in rather the same way, as throwing his emphasis upon
jselection of the one telling detail rather than on accumulation of
many details and instances" (p. 316). Yet this technique of concen
tration and selection is one of which Pound wholly approves. Salomon
iReinach singles out the art of coinage and engraving miniatures for
the highest praise: for example, "The incomparable Sicilian coins of
I the second half of the fifth century attest the superiority of Greek
;art no less eloquently than the Hermes of Praxiteles and the Venus of
iMilo . . . the superiority of the Greeks in this art is incontestable"
(Apollo, pp. 82-3). Such comments hardly explain why we should regard
Mauberley's choice of model as inferior, or his direction toward "the
strait head/Of Messalina" as misguided. It may be, of course, that
!Pound wishes to direct the reader's attention to Mauberley's interest
in "a portrait of the most licentious woman in Rome," (Espey, p. 99),
;emphasizing "another of the poem's ironies" (p. 99). However, it
seems unlikely that Pound intends to object to the subject the artist
has chosen; Pound chafed under the censorship imposed on some of his
!and Joyce's work for "moral" reasons. And Pound has declared, "Our
respect is not for the subject-matter, but for the creative power of
the artist.He believes, "when a man prefers a Blessed Virgin by
Watts to a portrait of a nasty pawnbroker by Rembrandt, one ceases to
consider him as a person seriously interested in painting."7®
The question of why we should regard Mauberley's selection of
"the strait head/Of Messalina" as erroneous still remains.
A possible solution to the puzzle, however, lies in finding
! 144
!the source of the allusion to Messalina. Critics so far have assumed j
I i
I that Messalina refers to classical coins bearing her image. For j
example, John Espey notes, "Of Messalina, Friar says: 'Pound writes
the editor that he had in mind a particular portrait, but that he
; cannot now remember which.' Though it is not an essential point for j
; understanding Mauberley, perhaps it should be made clear that the
only 'portraits' of Messalina Pound would have been likely to examine
would be those on coins struck during the early years of Claudius'
ireign" (Ezra Pound's Mauberley, p. 99). The coins bearing Messalina's
; image were not, however, the only source Pound had for viewing her
'"portrait"; The Portrait Index lists another possibility:
Messalina, Valeria, W. of Emperor Claudius d. 48 A.D.
Bernoulli Romische konog (1886). eng. after bust
(Florence) a— 2, pt. 1:193. eng. after head
(Munich) a— 2, pt. 1:361. eng. after statue (Louvre).^
Three etchings of Messalina that Pound might have seen occur in J. J.
Bernoulli's study, Romische Ikonographie. The three engravings are
! copies made from statuary of Messalina located in museums of Florence,
Munich, and Paris, and according to the Portrait Index are the only
; other portraits that Pound might have seen in print.
A glance at these etchings in comparison to Jacquemart's
; engraving reveals the distinction Pound intends to make. The Messa
lina engravings are copies made from copies; the authenticity of the
museum statuary is disputed. The Roman statuary can be faulted
I immediately by Pound's critical standards, since it was based on the
imitation of Greek sculpture. S. Reinach explains, "it is true that
the imitation of Greek works was an important factor in Roman art.
j 145
j
I
! . . .On the other hand, the wealth of Rome attracted the Greek
! *
|artists, who readily found purchasers for their imitations or copies
|of classic works (Apollo, p. 87). Mr. Reinach lists Bernoulli in his
Bibliography for his chapter on Etruscan and Roman Art (Apollo, p. 94)
j Behind the allusion to Jacquemart, lies Gautier's method of
dealing with art, Emaux et Camees. Similarily, behind the allusion
to Messalina, lies the art criticism Bernoulli wrote. Pound's dis
approval of what he termed the Germanic approach to study is well
known. Possibly, he also intended the reference to Messalina to
;obliquely suggest his disapproval of Bernoulli's approach to art
|criticism.
j
i The allusion to Messalina, then, redirects our attention to
art that is servile, that is imitative and diluted as. opposed to art
that is creative, innovative and vigorous. Messalina, a copy of a
copy of an art work, offers a distinct contrast to Jacquemart's head
of Gautier. Pound, differentiating Vorticism from other forms of art,
suggests a description befitting the Messalina etchings: "And the
'new form:' What is it. . . . It is an arrangement of masses in rela-
Ition. It is not an empty copy of empty Roman allegories that are
lthemselves copies of copies."®^ Mauberley turns from art that repre-
1
!sents Pound's highest aesthetic principles to art that represents a
;contradiction of those principles.
■ FOOTNOTES FOR CHAPTER III
1. "Ezra Pound," New Bearings in English Poetry, 1932; rpt.
Ezra Pound: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. Walter Sutton
(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1963), p. 40.
2. (Norfolk, Conn.: New Directions, 1950), p. 165.
3. in The Pelican Guide to English Literature: The Modern
;Age (1961; rpt. Baltimore, Md.: Penguin Books, 1969), p. 315.
4. "Ezra Pound," Poetry, Sept. 1946; rpt. Ezra Pound: A
Collection of Critical Essays, ed. Sutton, p. 23.
5. Eliot, intro, to Selected Poems (1928, London: Faber and
Faber, 1949), p. xxiii.
6 . quoted in Kenner, The Poetry of Ezra Pound, p. 167.
7. "Retrospect 1950," rpt. Collected Essays, p. 40.
8. See Kenner, The Poetry of Ezra Pound, p. 165.
; 9. Wisconsin Studies in Contemporary Literature, VI, 1
;(Winter-Spring, 1965), p. 73.
10. "Ezra Pound," rpt. A Collection of Critical Essays, p. 29.
11. The Pound Era (Berkeley: Univ. of Calif. Press, 1971).
12. Ezra Pound's Mauberley: A Study in Composition, p. 15.
13. Sailing After Knowledge: The Cantos of Ezra Pound
|(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1963), p. 158.
14. "Ezra Pound's Hugh Selwyn Mauberleyin The Pelican Guide
I to English Literature: The Modern Age, p. 319.
15. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964), p. 101.
16. 1920, Instigations' , rpt. Literary Essays of Ezra Pound
ed. T. S. Eliot (New York: New Directions, 1968), p. 343.
146
17. Pound's use of this term is eccentric. He disregards any
traditional limitation of "impressionism" to art or music and applies
it to his concept of a sensibility that is manifested in certain
literary practices, "impressionism" is useful as a label only when
and where Pound specifically applies it. Then the term may serve
to identify particular attitudes that Pound distinguished from his
own vorticist principles. Hugh Witemeyer discusses Pound's concept
of "impressionism" in The Poetry of Ezra Pound: Forms and Renewal,
pp. 176-183.
18. 1914, The Egoist; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 399.
19. "Affirmations II: Vorticism," The New Age, XVI.11
(Jan. 14, 1915), p. 278.
20. "Dubliners and Mr. James Joyce," 1914; rpt. Literary
Essays, p. 399.
21. 1918; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 431.
22. Hugh Witemeyer states, "In his early writings, Pound out
lined some of his fundamental aesthetic principles— principles which
remain constant (though they are supplemented) in such later avatars
as Imagism, Vorticism, and the Ideogram" (Forms and Renewal, p. 23).
In his entire study of Pound's aesthetic theories from 1908-1920,
Hugh Witemeyer demonstrates "Pound's mind was set at a very early
stage, and the work of his later years is often an elaboration of
the concerns and dispositions of his youth. Properly understood, his
writings show remarkable consistency and continuity over a long
career" (Forms and Renewal, Preface, p. viii). It is possible, but
it seems unlikely, that Pound changed his mind about Impressionism
between 1914/15 and 1917/18.
23. Mauberley's relationship to Elpenor, suggested in the
conclusion of Poem IV, has been discussed at length by various
critics. For example, see Witemeyer, Forms and Renewal, pp. 174-75.
24. London, July 27, 1916; rpt. The Letters of Ezra Pound,
ed. D. D. Paige (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1950), p. 89.
25. Letter to Rene Taupin, Vienna, May, 1928, in Letters
p. 218.
26. (London: Faber and Faber, 1938), p. 49.
27. Poetry, 1918..; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 286. Recall
Pound's desire to write poetry that is "harder and saner . . . as much
like granite as it can be," "A Retrospect," 1918, Literary Essays,
p. 12. For Pound, the "harder" the poetry, the better.
148
28. letter to Iris Barry, London, July, 1916; rpt. Letters,
p. 89.
29. letter from London, July 27, 1916, Letters, p. 89.
30. "How to Read," 1928; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 38.
31. "Ulysses," Literary Essays, p. 406.
32. "Three Cantos," Poetry, X, 3 (June, 1917), p. 253.
33. Forms and Renewal, pp. 177-78. See also pp. 176-81.
34. "Letter from Paris," The Dial, LXXI,4 (September, 1921),
p. 461.
35. "The Island of Paris: A Letter," November, in The Dial,
LXIX,6 (December, 1920), p. 635.
36. "The Island of Paris: A Letter" Sept. 1920, in The Dial,
LXIX,4 (October, 1920), p. 406. It may be significant that Mauber-
ley's isle is "The coral isle." In "A Guide to Canto II of Ezra
Pound," in The Analyst, E. M. Glenn explains a "metamorphosis, here
of nymph or woman into coral" (No. XVII, p. 21). He believes that
Pound "calls attention to etymological parallels between science and
mythology and also to the truth in myth which science has verified:
. . . for the female medusa (the free swimmer) does produce the coral
of metamorphosis, Mauberley's coral isle may carry the associations
of the transformation of live matter (or thought) into a dead or inert
state. See The Analyst, pp. 21-22. In "Affirmations, Gaudier-
Brzeska," Pound describes the process of live matter being trans
formed into dead in terms of the mental processes he encountered in
London: "This petrification of the mind is one of the most curious
phenomena that I have found in England. I am far from believing it
to be peculiarly or exclusively English" (1915, rpt. Gaudier-Brzeska,
p. 108). Petrification occurs, Pound finds, when men are no longer
able or willing to consider new ideas; to understand creativity or
originality: This, Pound believes, constitutes the state of mind that
opposes vorticism and Pound's aesthetic principles: "We find the men
of no traditions, or of provincial traditions, against us. We find
the unthinking against us. We find the men whose minds have petrified
at forty, or at fifty, or at twenty, most resolutely against us"
(p. 108). It may have pleased Pound to see an anology between the
formation of the coral isle by the once living organisms and the
relegation of Mauberley's petrified mind to the coral isle.
37. The Little Review, (September, 1915), p. 32.
38. V, 6 (October, 1918), p. 23.
! 149 ;
S 39. (1910; rpt. Norfolk, Connecticut: New Directions, 1964), i
p. 14. !
| j
j 40. Letter to the Editor, The Egoist, 1,6 (March 16, 1914),
p. 117.
41. "Poetry Versus Imagism," Little Review, p. 30.
42. "Affirmations II: Vorticism," The New Age, (Jan, 1915),
p. 278.
43. "Breviora," The Little Review, (Oct., 1918), p. 23.
j i
44. "A Retrospect," 1913, Poetry ; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 4.
45. "Towards a Human Aesthetic," The Egoist, 1,10 (May 15,
1914), 197.
46. "Vorticism," Fortnightly Review (Sept. 1914); rpt.
Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 81.
47. "Mr. Hawkins on Mr. Carter," The Egoist, 1,1 (January 1,
1914), p. 19. Donald Gallup, in A Bibliography of Ezra Pound (London:
Rupert Hart-Davie, 1963), p. 206, states: In Cockney dialect,
signed: Henery Hawkins, concerning Huntley Carter. Almost certainly
by Ezra Pound."
48. Noel Stock, in The Life of Ezra Pound, (New York: Random
House, 1970), pp. 130-31, describes Pound's friendship with John
Cournos during 1912-1914: John Cournos, a Russian-born journalist
and poet who had given up his job as art critic on the Philadelphia
Record to go abroad, interviewed Pound in December 1912. .. .
Pound introduced Cournos to Yeats and Hueffer, took him to a poets'
dinner . . . encouraged him in the writing of a book on American
painting, and managed to sell some of his work for him when he needed
ithe money. Cournos described him years later as 'one of the kindest
men that ever lived.'
j 49. See "Letters to the Editor," The Egoist, 1,24 (December
15, 1914), p. 463 and "Letters," The Egoist, 11,1 (January 1, 1915),
p. 15. Also, "More Light for Mr. Carter," "Letter to the Editor,"
The Egoist, 1,22 (November 16, 1914), p. 431.
50. "The House that the Set-Backs Built," The Egoist, 1,6
(March 16, 1914), p. 115.
51. The Egoist, 1,10 (May 15, 1914), p. 197.
52. "The Public Ownership of the Artist," The Egoist, 1,2
(January 15, 1914), p. 33.
150
53. (New York: Random House, 1970), pp. 235-36.
54. 1918, Little Review; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 331.
55. "Affirmations— IV. As For Imagisme," The New Age, XVI,
13 (January 28, 1915), pp. 349-50.
56. Forms and Renewal, p. 183. See "Affirmations II Vorti
cism," The New Age (January 14, 1915), p. 277: "Vorticism means that
one is interested in the creative faculty as opposed to the mimetic.
We believe that it is harder to make than to copy." In a note to me
(December, 1972), Donald Davie points out "Between imitating a style
and imitating nature (mimesis) there is a vast difference." Un
fortunately, Pound used the word "mimesis" to refer to both imitation
of nature and styles.
57. XXIV,13 (January 30, 1919), p. 212.
58. XXVI,10 (January 8, 1920), p. 159. B. H. Dias, "Art
Notes," The New Age.
59. The New Age, (January 8, 1920), p. 159.
60. See "Art Notes," The New Age (April 25, 1918), p. 504.
"All artists begin by imitating something or other, or by 'being
influenced.1"
61. "Art Notes: Five Ordeals. I. By Water," The New Age
XXV,5 (May 29, 1919), pp. 88-9.
62. Dias, "Art Notes: Jean De Bosschere, and the Less
Fortunate," The New Age, XXIV,8 (December 26, 1918), p. 126.
63. "Art Notes: The International," The New Age, XXIII,10
(July 4, 1918), p. 155.
64. The New Age, (July 4, 1918), p. 155.
65. The New Age, (July 4, 1918), p. 155.
66. from Rapallo, October 24, 1931, Letters, p. 229.
67. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907), p. 192.
68. The Renaissance: Maker of Modern Man. ed. Merle Severy,
Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 1970), p. 395.
69. (New York: H. N. Abrams, Inc.),.p. 48.
70. (New York: Holt, Rinehard and Winston), 1961, p. 224.
|
i 71. ".I Gather the Limbs of Osiris," 1912; quoted in Forms and
jRenewal, pp. 7-8 .
I 72. (1938; rpt. New York: New Directions, 1952), frontis
piece.
73. Hugh Witeraeyer's entire chapter "Tradition and its Uses"
;Forms and Renewal, pp. 3-22, is relevant to this discussion. Mr.
Witemeyer explains, "The contribution of the donative author, accord-
iing to Pound, is inseparable from his own personal virtu; he has
discovered that unique quality in himself which differentiates him
'from all other men."
74. The New Age, XXV,2 (May 8, 1919), p. 30.
75. The New Age, (April 4, 1918), p. 456.
76. John J. Espey notes, "one has the right to look with some
'suspicion at "Jaquemart," which looks as if it should be "jacquemart,"
(Ezra Pound's Mauberley, p. 24). He calls it "clearly a casual
error that has ridden unnoticed through successive editions (p. 32).
Mr. Espey is quite correct, as he notes, "Since this was written, Mr.
Pound has sanctioned four changes in Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, and they
I have been incorporated in the text printed with this study" (p. 24).
The corrected text reads, "'eau-forte/Par Jacquemart" (p. 128).
Possibly here, as well as in Mauberley, Pound mistakenly misspelled
the name of the artist.
77. "Affirmations— III. Jacob Epstein," New Age, XVI,12
(January 21, 1915), p. 311.
78. "Affirmations. Vorticism," The New Age, (January 14,
1915), p. 277.
79. American Library Association Portrait Index, (Washington,
D.C.: Library of Congress, 1906), p. 996.
80. (Stuttgart; Spemann, 4 vols. 1882-94), pp. 188, 193, 361.
81. For example, See Stock, Life of Pound who describes
Pound's disapproval of "the Germanic ideal of scholarship," p. 31.
82. "Affirmations V: Gaudier-Brzeska," The New Age, (February
4, 1915), p. 382.
.CHAPTER IV
A BOTCHED CIVILISATION
Describing and defending his technique in writing Homage to
| Sextus Propertius, Pound wrote, job was to bring a dead man to
i ,
! life, to present a living figure."1 By recreating Propertius, Pound
i
! hoped not only to represent the historical poet but also to merge
I
I various attitudes and ideas in order to suggest a particular state of
i
! mind: "If possible I shd. even have wished to render a composite
! character, including something of Ovid, and making the portrayed
; figure not only Propertius but inclusive of the spirit of the young
i man of the Augustan Age, hating rhetoric and undeceived by imperial
! hog-wash" (p. 150). Pound saw a connection between Sextus Propertius's
state of mind as he conceived of it and his own. Concerned with his
I
| intellectual and emotional milieu in London, he felt an affinity with
! the classical poet who also appeared to him to be struggling with the j
! mental atmosphere of his milieu. Pound suggests that his poem pre
sents a contrast between the aspiring, independent, artistic mind and
! the official, bureaucratic, mediocre mentality of the age. In a
1
! letter to the editor of the English Journal, Pound declares that
i
j
I Homage to Sextus Propertius "presents certain emotions as vital to
i
I
| me in 1917, faced with the infinite and ineffable imbecility of the
I
j
i British Empire, as they were to Bropertius some centuries earlier,
I
152
153
when faced with the infinite and ineffable imbecility of the Roman
i
Empire.1 I suggest that Pound's concern, to create a composite
character in order to portray an individual spirit and to reveal the
spirit of an age, underlies theme and technique not only in Homage to
t
| Sextus Propertius, but in Hugh Selwyn Mauberley as well. Pound him-
I
; self has suggested a relationship between these two poems. In a
| letter to John Drummond, Pound muses: "I wonder how far the Mauberley
! ,
! is merely a translation of the Homage to S.P., for such as couldn t j
|
| understand the latter?"^ Years later, Pound continued to insist upon
|
! this connection. Michael Reck recalls a conversation with Pound in
! |
i which Pound explained that his aims in the first poem continued into j
; I
i the later one, Mauberley: "At Saint Elizabeth's Pound irritated me j
i
! by declaring that his poem 'Hugh Selwyn Mauberley' is merely a popular-
| ized version of his 'Homage to Sextus Propertius.'^ In a recently
I published extract of a letter to John Quinn, Pound reveals that he
I conceived these early long poems in a sequence based on his concept of
;various ages:
i
; I have sent the rest of copy for "Three Portraits"
i It contains the Imperium Romanum (Propertius) j
j The Middle Ages (Provence)
j Mauberley (today)
| and cantos IV-VII,
! It is all I have done since 1916, and my most important
! book. . . . At any rate the three portraits, falling into
! a Trois Contes scheme, plus the Cantos, . . . are what I
| have to say, and the first formed book of poem sic.
| I have made.-*
Pound's studies of various ages, classical, medieval, and modern, led
i him to define the characteristics of the age, and to crystallize
i
S these concepts in his poems. Pound's awareness of the multifarious
154
elements composing the spirit of an age creates an intricate, multi-
i
!leveled portrait. Such complexity fulfills Pound's intention of
presenting "an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of
jtime"; it guards the poem against being falsified by oversimplica-
|tion; but it also makes great demands on the reader.
We have already explored the differences between Pound and
!Mauberley; we have differentiated between the active, creative artist
and the passive, impressionistic aesthete. But we still have not
sufficiently explained Mauberley; we have not yet begun to explore the
speaker presented in the opening poetic sequence. The questions, Is
Mauberley distinguishable from Pound? And if so, how? still remain
for the first twelve poems.
For Mauberley cannot be written off as just an aesthete, or an
impressionist, or even as an imitator or dilutor, however much we
might wish that this were possible. Conveniently diagnosed as im
potent, or as passive, or as imitative, Mauberley no longer represents
a threat to our image or to our conscience. He can be safely tucked
away into a category that we need not fear, one that no longer threat
ens to upset established values. Pound, however, seems to have
:anticipated the reader's desire to see characters such as Mauberley
labeled and relegated to an unimportant shelf in our closet of ideas.
Mayberley's attitudes defy any convenient, complacent categorization.
Pound's complex presentation of this individual Mauberley precludes
:easy treatment. Because Mauberley represents some attitudes and ideas
still commonly held and expressed, because he contains, in miniature,
155
continuing societal errors, his flaws are difficult to detect and
diagnose. Whereas Sextus Propertius represents the "spirit of the
young man" who remains "undeceived by imperial hog-wash,Mauberley
represents "imperial hog-wash" itself.
After evaluating the E.P. of the "Ode" and finding E.P. "pre-
sents/No adjunct to the Muses' diadem," no significant contributions
to the world of letters, the speaker turns to the values of.the age:
II.
The age demanded an image,
Of its accelerated grimace,
Something for the modern stage,
Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;
The "age demanded" chiefly a mould in plaster
Made with no loss of time,
A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabaster
Or the "sculpture" of rhyme.
Critics, heretofore, have in general sympathized with the sentiments
expressed here and have attributed the point of view either to Pound,
or to a Mauberley whose opinions in these verses are compatible with
Pound1s.
Hugh Kenner, for example, suggests the lines constitute
Pound's explanation of why the world has rejected his verse. Pound's
age chooses its grim image over Pound's "Attic grace."® John Espey
also believes Poem II is presented from Pound's point of view: "The
voice of the man so summarily and condescendingly dismissed in the
Ode now answers the criticism of 'his time' by beginning to charac
terize the age itself, denouncing its false values, its narcissism,
its rejection of the classics . . . and its preference for mere
movement over the 'sculpture1' of lasting beauty.Hugh Witemeyer also
ichooses to read this section as if it were spoken by Pound: "The
i
1
[voice that knits the sequence is the flexible voice of Pound himself
; . the same uncompromising voice that judges Mauberley in Part II
[(especially in 'The Age Demanded' )."^® However, Donald Davie offers a
contrasting view, believing, "The section where it is essential to
realize that Mauberley and not Pound is speaking is Section II, where
Mauberley acknowledges that if Pound's epic pretensions were not what
'The age demanded,' still less does it demand his own 'Attic grace,'
i his 'inward gaze,' his 'classics in paraphrase. Mr. Davie allows
I that this interpretation is indubitably influenced by Pound's own
directions for determining point of view: "Pound has lately said, of
:commentators on Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, The worst muddle they make is
in failing to see that Mauberley buries E.P. in the first poem; gets
rid of all his troublesome energies" (p. 320). However, Mr. Davie is
somewhat dissatisfied with this assessment: "Pound's comment implies
what it is not easy to discover within the poetry itself, that sub
sequent sections of the poem are also to be understood as spoken not
[by Pound himself but by the imaginary Mauberley" (p. 320). Uncon
vinced that the voices of Pound and Mauberley can be satisfactorily
I
[and convincingly separated, Mr. Davie concludes:
i If readers have found themselves incapable of this rapid
change of stance, (preferring instead an impossible compound
poet, of epic and sublime pretensions in Section I yet vowed
in Section II to Attic grace and Gautier's 'sculpture of
rhyme'), the poet'is partly to blame; he is trying to make
ironical detachment and slight shifts of tone do more than
they can do, by way of directing and redirecting the
reader's attention (p. 321).
The critics, trying to determine point of view in the opening
j
| sequence, invariably have based their conclusions on the assumption
; that Pound himself shares many, if not all, of the attitudes and
ideas expressed. Is this, in fact, the case?
I The ostensible contrast in the Poems II and III is between
: the demands of the present age and the accomplishments of the past.
! The modern age prefers "Something for the modern stage" rather than
an "Attic grace." This age prefers "mendacities" rather "Than the
I classics in paraphrase." They choose a "mould in plaster" over
j "alabaster" or a "prose kinema" over "the 'sculpture' of rhyme." Even
in music, the age '"replaces'/Sappho's barbitos" with the pianola.
■ The controlling voice in these lines despairs of the present age. He
regrets the passing of classical accomplishments and yearns for their
return. By identifying his values with those associated with "an
iAttic grace," the speaker laments the loss of the "phallic and am-
j brosial" classical religions, the "mousseline of Cos," the classical
art represented by the Victory of Samothrace. Mauberley compares the
present age with its classical heritage and finds the present woefully
!deficient.
Does Pound share such a view? I suggest not. In his article,
"Affirmations. V. Gaudier-Brzeska," Pound declares:
It may suit some of my friends to go about with their
young noses pointing skyward, decrying the age and
comparing us unfavourably to the dead men of Hellas or
of Hesperian Italy. And the elders of my acquaintance may
wander in the half-lights complaining that—
Queens have died young and fair.
But I, for one, have no intention of decreasing my enjoyment
of this vale of tears by underestimating my own generation.^
158
In contrast to Mauberley's own pejorative and pessimistic estimate
of his age, Pound believes, "we live in a time as active and as sig
nificant as the Cinquecento" (p. 409). Pound's comments about the
Renaissance are especially relevant to his opinions concerning the
modern age, because he believes: "it may be a hallucination, but one
seems able to find modern civilization in its simple elements in the
Renaissance" (p. 409). Pound insists, however, on considering the
age, modern, classical, or Renaissance, in all its complex and contra
dictory manifestations. "You can prove anything you like by the
Renaissance" (p. 409), Pound admits; but to be honest and just in your
study of this age, you must consider: "the whole age, the composite
life of the age, in contradistinction to those who have sentimental
ized over its aesthetics" (p. 409). Contradicting those who view the
present age with disdain, and who compare the present unfavorably
with the past, Pound reviews the accomplishments of such artists as
Wyndham Lewis and such scholars as Ernest Fenollosa, and declares:
"As for external stimulus, new discoveries, new lands, new languages
gradually opened to us; we have great advantage over the cinque— or
quattro-cento. . . these new masses of unexplored arts and facts are
pouring into the vortex of London. They cannot help but bring about
changes as great as the Renaissance changes" (p. 411).
Pound's criteria for evaluating the age are based on his
belief in the critic's duty to be equitable: "The critic's function
is, whenever possible, to see that justice is done, and to prevent or
put an end to various forms of injustice.By this, Pound meant
159
that deserving artists should be duly recognized and encouraged,
especially when they are yet unknown. Already established artists
who enjoy critical acclaim may have had just (or undeserved) recogni
tion; but the critic's responsibility is to determine which works
are "worthy of praise or blame" (p. 372) regardless of whether they
are modern and unknown or already accepted into the tradition.
An example of how classical achievements are sentimentalized
and modern accomplishments disparaged, occurs in the writings of a
contributor to The Egoist who calls himself Auceps. Auceps ridiculed
the reports from the group of Imagists, and he rejected the Imagists'
desire to have modern as well as established work respected. Auceps
commentst
What joy for us to awake from the artistic errors
: which have chained Europe since the 15th century! What
joy for us to substitute the solemn and irrefutable
Hulme for the new obsolete Plato and Herakleitus, to
enjoy the vital pictures of Roger Fry and the geometric
sardine-tins of Wyndham Lewis instead of yawning before
tedious Titians and lymphatic Leonardos; to burst into
ecstasy before the ithyphallic creations of Epstein instead
of standing in mute boredom before the insipid and barely
sexual productions of Scopas and Pheidias! ^
The article Auceps derides is one written by Ezra Pound. The views
Pound meant to oppose as well as their intricate relationship to
Mauberley's views become obvious in Auceps' article:
. . .how admirably our young Picus handles his theme! With
what intimate expert knowledge of Hellenic literature and
art! and with what skill he traces the growth of Greek
sculpture from the glorious spindle-shanked sharp-nosed
totems of 3300 B.C. (found at Gnossos) down to the final
degradation of the vicious age of Pericles!
How cleverly that old bore Aristotle is put in his
place! How exquisitely the fallacy of the interdependence
160
and artistic relationship of Hellenic sculpture and drama
is exposed! . . . I repeat, Madam, I am lost in admiration
for this young Daniel who plays with lions as if they were
mice, who is "so terribly at ease upon Zion" that the
blessed angels feel themselves un peu de trop (p. 97).
Auceps' sarcastic reference to Pound as a "young Daniel" may have
inspired Pound to have his detractor: Mauberley refer to E.P. in the
same sarcastic vein as "Capaneus." Also, the use of quoted phrases
and erudite allusions may have been suggested to Pound by Auceps' own
use of them. For example, Auceps declares,
Think: the whole culture* thought, life, customs, history,
literature, art of the thousand years of Hellenic civilisa
tion is now happily and adequately treated in three short
paragraphs and wittily condemned to oblivion! Is this not
the annus mirabilis? Is it not at least mirabile dictu?
. . . But I grow cosmic learning which enables notre jeune
Ruskin-Pound to deal so lightly with the quasi-immortals.
But I have done what I set out to do; I have rejoiced at
the coming of the Christ among critics, and I have dared to
indicate the one faint shade of error in his otherwise
apostolic utterances. That I have not passed beyond the
first of his three paragraphs is because I do not feel
competent to agree with so eminent an authority on Greek
literature and art. I cannot claim to have spent more than
a few idle years in the study of Greek, and, of course, Mr.
Pound is a recognized European authority on the subject, as
well as on the literature of Provence, Italy, America, Japan
and Bengal, together with classics, medieval and renaissance
Latin, mathematics, fencing, music and astrology, &c, &c.
Auceps (p. 97).
Auceps represented one force against the new art Pound presented.
Auceps represented education, information, and appreciation of his
subject; yet he lacked tolerance for new ideas. Auceps represented
the man "of learning" who is not willing to "learn." Pound's response
to Auceps' attack is recorded in Gaudier-Brzeska. Having already
informed the reader about Richard Aldington's and Brzeska's "perpetual,
j 161
I
I acrimonious, and fundamentally amical dispute as to whether Greek art
iand civilization were worthy of serious consideration, Aldington
being all for 'Hellas,' and Brzeska's refrain, 'Those damn Greeks'"
(Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 36). Pound explains, "The dispute with 'Auceps'
!need not be taken too solemnly. It was part of the discussion about
' 'those damn Greeks.' Auceps was, in part, out for a lark. It was
perhaps a lark plus a little asperity"(Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 36). An
awareness of the dispute between Pound and Auceps (or Richard Alding-
! ton?) however, adds perspective to the character of Mauberley that
Pound draws. Knowing that Pound did have an actual disagreement about
classical versus modern aesthetic principles helps bring Mauberley's
: comments about classical and modern art into a clearer focus. Pound
; cites Gaudier-Brzeska's reply to Auceps:
I wish to answer the impertinent "Auceps" on the question
of new sculpture which he treats with so much contempt. The
young gentleman seems to have just left a high school and
coming in contact with life he is unable to fathom the depth
of artistic earnest— therefore this desparate brandishment
of false and arrogant scholastics. If he had entered into
the spirit of "Logic Greek philosophy" ^icj he might have
found even there that only the very ignorant try to refute
by means of ridicule and irony. No fair-minded person can
form an opinion upon the value of such a statement as his,
which even relies upon a few French locutions to get acute
ness of derision. . . .
Sculptors of today differ from these later Greeks not
in tendency but in kind, and Auceps brings upon his head the
weight of ridicule by judging these recent works with, as a
standard, the superficial qualities of the late Greeks. It
would be better if he had the courage to say, "I am a dry
intellect and I can understand but to feel is impossible."^
Mauberley, too, commits the error of Auceps; perhaps Mauberley for all
his seeming education, needs to admit he could learn a little more.
Pound, I suggest, drew out the essence of Auceps' state of mind and
instilled it into Mauberley.
Mauberley's gloomy appraisal of the modern age leads him to
conclude that there is nothing worthy of admiration:
In contrast, Pound did not despair of his age; he did not lament the
passing of any "god, man, or hero" who deserves acclaim. Rather,
Pound declares, "I dared to discern a great sculptor and a great
admits that there may be very little worthy of acclaim; but he believes
that whatever i£ of value should receive just recognition. For
example, reviewing Jacob Epstein's sculptural exhibit in The New Age,
Pound asserts: "In an age, where, as in all other ages, there is
little lasting merit, we can give unqualified praise and unqualified
1 n
thanks for such work as is here presented." In contrast to Mauber
ley, whocompares the present unfavorably with the past; Pound recog
nizes that every age has its failings as well as its successes. The
critical flaw in Mauberley's attitude is that it leads him to ignore
or reject the modern artist who is accomplishing something worthwhile.
Pound complains: "I have had to write, or at least I have written a
good deal about art, sculpture, painting and poetry. I have seen what
seemed to me the best of contemporary work reviled and obstructed.
What god, man, or hero
Shall I place a tin wreath upon.'
0 bright Apollo,
T { V d iv 6 ftL , r e v rjavT*,
Tito,
painter in the midst of England's artistic desolation.Pound
Mauberley complains about the taste of the modern theatre
goer. Yet Pound suggests that the interests of the average theatre
goer in classical Greece or during the Renaissance were not ideal.
"The Greek populace was PAID to attend the great Greek tragedies, and
it damn well wouldn't have gone otherwise, or if there had been a
cinema. . . . The Elizabethan drama, as distinct from the long defunct
religious plays, was a court affair."Greek art," Pound declares
in contradistinction to Mauberley's attitudes, "is about as fine an
example of UNINTERRUPTED decadence as one could want" (p. 102).
Mauberley deplores the fact that "The age demanded an image/
Of its accelerated grimace." Pound, however, does not object to such
a demand. James Joyce presented such an image of his milieu; and
Pound praised it profusely: "On almost every page of Joyce you will
find just such swift alternation of subjective beauty and external
shabbiness, squalor, and sordidness."20 Pound's problem was to defend
such work against readers who could not accept seeing their "acceler
ated grimace" so baldly treated. Mr. Joyce "is a realist. . . . He
gives the thing as it is."^ Public inability to appreciate Joyce's
approach finally led Pound to remark: "I^arn tired of rewriting the
arguments for the realist novel" ("Joyce," p. 416).
Mauberley implies the age demanded such an image "for the
modern stage." To Pound's view, however, just the opposite is true.
The Age rejected an image of itself "for the modern stage." Joyce
wrote "Something for the modern stage," but because his play presented
an image of the age's "accelerated grimace," it was deemed unsuitable
| 164
| for production. Exiles, Pound declared, "is absolutely unfit for the
i
|stage as we know it":^ "it is not unstageable because it deals with
i
| adultery: surely, we have plenty of plays . . . that deal with
adultery . . . done with the last degree of sentimental bestiality"
(p. 50). The problem with the play is that Joyce presents a faithful
image of experience: "The trouble with Mr. Joyce's play is precisely
that he i£ at prise with reality. It is a 'dangerous*1 play precisely
because the author is portraying an intellectual-emotional struggle,
because he is dealing with actual thought, actual questioning, not
with cliches of thought and emotion (Pound/Joyce, p. 52). If Mauber
ley finds the modern stage objectionable, it is not because he will
find an honest image of the actual concerns and struggles of the age
there. If he objects to an image of the "accelerated grimace," he
is objecting to work done by modern artists such as Joyce.
*
Mauberley bemoans the fact that
The "age demanded" chiefly a mould in plaster
Made with no loss of time.
In contrast, Pound continues to find artists and sculptors who are
worthy of praise. "Epstein," Pound asserts, "is the greatest sculptor
9 o
| in Europe." Opposing Mauberley's view, Pound reasserts, "I would
i
seize this chance or any chance to reaffirm ray belief in ffyndham
I Lewis's genius" ("A Retrospect," Literary Essays, pp. 13-14). Pound's
memoir, Gaudier-Brzeska, offers an undeniable testimony to his belief
in at least some of the accomplishments of the age: "Among many good
artists, among other young men of promise there was this one sculptor
already great in achievement at the age of twenty-three, incalculably
165
i _
|great in promise and in the hopes of his friends. . . ." Not only can
I
|Pound cite Gaudier-Brzeska, Lewis, and Epstein in contrast to Mauber-
iley's landscape of plaster casts, and Joyce and Eliot in contrast to
Mauberley's literary wasteland, but Pound also can contradict Mauber-
|ley's assessment of the state of music. Mauberley regrets that "The
Pianola 'replaces'/Sappho's barbitos." In Forms and Renewal, Hugh
Witemeyer presents a thorough discussion of Pound's opinion of
Sappho's barbitos, and concludes: "For Pound, this instrument symbol
ized not only the ideal relationship between the musician and his
;music, but also the ideal relationship between music and poetry"
; (p. 189). It would seem (and critics have assumed) that Pound concurs
with Mauberley's lament. This, however, is not quite the case. Pound
does regard Sappho's barbitos as highly as Mr. Witemeyer suggests;
but Pound does not agree with Mauberley's conclusion that such music
is missing in the modern age. Pound declares: "I do not see why the
1 art of beautiful-keyed instruments need be regarded as utterley
lost."^ Arnold Dolmetsch, Pound tells us, has revived the music
represented by Sappho's barbitos: "Mr. Dolmetsch was, let us say,
enamoured of ancient music. . . . He found that the beauty was un
translatable with modern instruments; he has repaired and has entirely
remade 'ancient instruments'" (p. 434). As if in direct repudiation
of Mauberley's attitude, Pound claims, "You do not much care for
music unless you know that a certain sort of very beautiful music is
no longer impossible" ("Arnold Dolmetsch," Literary Essays, p. 434).
Pound summarizes his position that the modern age does
j 166
I
!contain creative artists who are producing first-rate works of art;
i
land he suggests that these artists are not merely mimicking the past,
l
I
• but are adding to the tradition they recreate: "As I believe that
!Lewis and Picasso are capable of revitalizing the instinct of design
|so I believe that a return, an awakening to the possibilities, not
necessarily of 'Old' music, but of pattern music played upon ancient
|instruments, is, perhaps, able to make music again a part of life
: . . (p. 435). Pound, condemns not "the age," but the critics who
have failed to see what the age has accomplished: "I am constantly
surprised at the faintness of men's talent for living, at the number
of things they so willingly do without. The people who lived without
Gaudier's sculpture . . . perhaps that was through ignorance. The
people who live without Dolmetsch's instruments . . . that cannot be
ignorance . . ." (Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 127). Pound stands for the just
recognition of talent and achievement whenever and wherever it occurs,
throughout countries and centuries. Mauberley, by disregarding what
is of value in his own age, by idealizing the past while demeaning the
present, serves to hinder the creative process, "All these thoughts
I gather around one, in one's thought of this new painting and sculpture.
. . . And around its detractors, what thoughts? I think there must be
around them very little thought or they would not oppose it" (p. 127).
Mauberley blames the artistic desolation he sees on what the "age
demanded." For Pound, in contrast, what the "age demanded" has nothing
to do with what the first-rate artist produces. Joyce, Lewis, Gaudier-
Brzeska, Picasso, or even Pound, for example, did not bind themselves
! 167
|to what the "age demanded.” Artists may oppose the common current or
i
jnot, as they wish; but according to Pound, the desires of the age
have no effect on the artist producing work that will outlast its age:
"it is, after all, the artist's business to express his desire; to
1
ipaint what he wants, not something that he is bullied into, or that
someone has told him. He can be with his age or against it, but he
must express what he himself wants.Pound does not limit his
admiration of modern artists to vorticists, either. He praises, for
example, the painting of Charles Ricketts because Mr. Ricketts exhibits
paintings of first-rate, original work; yet he does, not ascribe to any
particular school or formulated theory of art. Pound admires Ricketts'
i"Don Juan" especially because it offers evidence that talent and train
ing need not be stifled by what the age demands: "Mr Ricketts, in
utter defiance of every current opinion, and of all the 'forces' or
inertias about him, has taken a traditional subject ..." (p. 155).
The first-rate artist, Pound maintains, cares little for what
the age may "demand:" "it is the artist's job to express what is 'true
for himself.' In such measure as he does this he is a good artist,
9 /
and in such measure as he himself exists, a great one."
i Pound, of course, recognizes that modern art may not remind
one of classical art; its virtues may be totally different from the
^characteristics associated with the "Attic grace." Modern sculpture
may not duplicate a "Samothrace." Pound, however, unlike Mauberley,
expects to see variations on tradition: Pound does not wish to see
art from the past duplicated: "We only demand a recognition of
j 168
icontemporary great art, which cannot possibly be just like the great
|
|art of any other period. At no time in the world has great art been
exactly like the great art of any other time."27 The responsibility
jof the critic, in Pound's eyes, is to see that just recognition is
! given to the best work of all ages, and that personal preferences for
one particular style or characteristic of an age do not blind or limit
one's perception of the value of different approaches or styles. In
"Vorticism," Pound declares, "Note that I am not trying to destroy
anyone's enjoyment of the Quattrocento, nor of the Victory of Samo-
thrace, nor of any work of art which is approximately the best of its
kind. I state that there is a new gamut of artistic enjoyments and
satisfactions; that vorticist painting is not meaningless; and that
anyone who cares to may enjoy it."28 ln his article "The Serious
Artist," Pound again criticizes conformity to criteria established in
the past in order to judge the present: "The stupid or provincial
judgment of art bases itself on the belief that great art must be
like the art that it has been reared to respect."2^ He distinguishes
between types of "stupid or provincial" standards for judging art; for
:example, "A belief that great art will always be like the art of 1850
is 'Pastism.' A belief that great art will always be like the art of
:1911 is 'futurism.' One hopes that one is not affected by either of
these diseases."8® Pound is quite aware that some aspiring artists
may be busily producing what they think "the age demands"; but he also
ibelieves that this type of artist is inferior and their work will not
survive their age: "As for 'expressing the age,' surely there are
| five thousand sculptors all busy expressing the inanities, the pretti-
i
I nesses, the sillinesses— the Gosses and Tademans, sic. the Mayfairs
and Hampsteads of the age. Of course the age is 'not so bad as all
that.' But the man who tries to express his age, instead of express
ing himself, is doomed to destruction" (p. 312).
In the November, 1920 issue of The Dial, T. S. Eliot published
|an article entitled, "The Second-Order Mind." Its relationship to
; Mauberley is immediate; the opinions Eliot expresses have a direct
bearing on our interpretation of Pound's poem. Mr. Eliot partially
apologizes for his foray into such an essay: "The criticism proper
;betrays such poverty of ideas and such atrophy of sensibility that
men who ought to preserve their critical ability for the improvement
of their own creative work are tempted into criticism.Eliot so
objected to the critical attitudes he found in the press, that he
could not refrain from replying to them. The particular criticism he
confronts is an article written by Edmund Gosse:
If too much bad verse is published in London, it does
not occur to us to raise our standards, to do anything to
educate the poetaster; the remedy is, kill them off. I
quote from Mr. Edmund Gosse in the Sunday Times of May
30, 1920:
Unless something is done to stem
this flood of poetastry the art
of verse will become not merely super
fluous; but ridiculous . . . something has
gone amiss with our standards. . . . This is all
wrong, and will lead us down into the abyss like
so many Gadarene swine unless we resist it (p. 588).
■ Eliot and Gosse concur that there is "too much bad verse" in London,
but they differ crucially in their approach to dealing with the .situa
tion. Eliot continues: "We quite agree that poetry is not a formula.
170
But what does Mr. Gosse propose to do about it? If Mr. Gosse had
found himself in the flood of poetastry in the reign of Elizabeth
what would he have done about it? Would he have stemmed it?" (p. 589).
The difference between Eliot and Gosse can be compared with the dif-
| ference between Pound and Mauberley: one represents passive dispar-
I
I
I
jagement, the other, active encouragement of the arts. One represents
!
! negative criticism, the other, creative progress. One represents
!
|critical destructiveness, the other, constructive accomplishments in
| the arts. Eliot continues:
i
It is part of the business of the critic to preserve tradition
— where a good tradition exists. It is part of his business
to see literature steadily and to see it whole; and this is j
eminently to see it not as consecrated by time, but to see
| it beyond time; to see the best work of our time and the
j best work of twenty-five hundred years ago with the same eyes. |
j It is part of his business to help the poetaster to under
stand his own limitations. The poetaster who understands
his own limitation will be one of our useful second-order
minds; a good minor poet (and that very rare) or another
j good critic. As for the first order minds, when they happen,
| they will be none the worse off for a "current of ideas" (p. 589). ]
I
1 Pound's concern is to expose the destructive "Second-order mind," the
|type of critic that Eliot describes and deplores. In Mauberley we
I have such a critic, a detractor of the arts. It is the reader's
jobligation to unmask him and to recognize, as did Eliot, the limita-
I
tions and dangers of his attitudes.
Mauberley regrets that in the present age,
i
|
| The tea-rose tea-gown, etc.
| Supplants the mousseline of Cos,
Even the Christian beauty
Defects— after Samothrace;
171
Pound, however, does not subscribe to such sentiments him-
i self. Rather, he sees this sort of attitude as a limitation
j
I inevitably wrought as a consequence of uncritically admiring classical
I
\ art:
I you will never awaken a general or popular art-sense so long
as you rely solely on the pretty, that is, the "caressable."
We all of us in the long run prefer the woman to the statue.
That is the romance of Galatea. We prefer— if it is a
| contest in carressabilities— we prefer the figure in silk
on the stairs to the "Victory" aloft on her pedestal-prow.
We know that the "Victory" will be there whenever we want
her, and that the young lady in silk will pass on to the
Salon Carr^, and thence on toward the unknown and unfindable.
That is the trouble with the caressable in art. The caress-
able is always a substitute.
: For Pound, the appeal of woman does not depend on her correspondence
with his preferences in art; nor does it depend on the style or
material of her gown; nor on whether she is Christian or pagan. One's
preference in woman, Pound believes, should be distinguished in kind,
from one's taste in art: "The satisfactions of art differ from the
satisfactions of life as the satisfactions of seeing differ from the
! satisfactions of hearing. There is no need to dispense with either.
; . . . The result of the attempt to mix the satisfactions of art and
' life is, naturally, muddle" (p. 311).
The "tea-rose tea-gown" is a specific allusion to Gautier's
; poems, "La Rose-Th^" and "A Une Robe Rose." John Espey connects
Poem IX with Gautier's poems, and suggests how Pound has incorporated
more allusions to Gautier:
I 172
The second stanza of Pound's poem announces the
central theme of his denunciation with
j Christ follows Dionysus,
j Phallic and ambrosial
! Made way for macerations;
I and it is here that one is struck not only with
j the parallel to the theme of Buchers et Tombeaux
i from Emaux et Cam£es, specifically
Des dieux que l'art toujours revere
Tronaient au ciel marmorden;
| Mais l'Olympe chde au Calvaire,
| Jupiter au Nazarden
but is led directly into the preface of Mademoiselle
de Maupin (Ezra Pound's Mauberley, p. 36).
' Mr. Espey points out "other indications that Mademoiselle de
; Maupin may have been an influence in the composition of Hugh Selwyn
i Mauberley" (p. 36); but Mr. Espey believes that Pound has missed the
: subtlety of Gautier: "it appears quite characteristic of Pound's
method that from these centers in Gautier he extracts the theme of
latter-day maceration without carrying over Gautier's tone of witty
exaggeration" (p. 36). Mr. Espey, however, is assuming that the poem
in question is presented from Pound's point of view. When the poem
is regarded as spoken entirely by Mauberley, the reader is responsible
for being aware of the irony in the allusions to Gautier, and must
pass judgment on Mauberley's view, accordingly.
I One parallel that Mr. Espey does not mention seems to me to
|focus and explain the significance of the allusions to Gautier's
[
| Mademoiselle de Maupin. The allusions tell the reader where to look
for an understanding of Mauberley— and they point to the central male
character in Mademoiselle de Maupin, D'Albert. The correspondence
!between Mauberley and D'Albert suggests another major source that
jPound used in creating his composite character Mauberley as well as
|a significant, underlying theme throughout Mauberley.
Points of similarity between Mauberley and D'Albert are too
numerous to treat exhaustively here; entire sections of Gautier's
book serve to illumine the background for Mauberley. In general,
Pound follows Gautier in creating a main character who is a would-be
critic, lover, and artist. Both artists doom their characters to
ultimate disappointment and failure on all levels. They suggest
similar reasons for this failure.
D'Albert, like Mauberley, turns away from the lady of the
;rose tea-gown: Rosette. He mistakes his possible Penelope for Circe
--Je comprends parfaitement aujourd'hui l'allegorie des
compagnons d'Ulysse changes en pourceaux par Circe.
Circe etait probablement quelque dgrillard comme ma
petite femme en r o s e .33
D'Albert views Rosette as "une Messaline prude! l'alliance est
Imonstrueuse et nouvelle" (Chapter II, p. 77). D'Albert, like Mauber
ley, compares the woman with art and finds the woman lacking.
D'Albert appraises the appeal of woman and declares, "j'aime mieux la
Venus Anadyomene, mille fois mieux" (Chapter IX, p. 213). D'Albert
describes how the "Christian beauty/Defects" after classical art:
;"Je consid^re la femme, ll la manikre antique, comme une belle esclave
;destin£e a nos plaisirs— Le christianisme ne l'a pas rehabilitee a
mes yeux. . . . Le Christ a envelopp£ le monde dans son linceul"
(Chapter IX, p. 215-6). Unlike Pound, who insists on separating the
pleasures of art from the pleasures of life and on separating
174
religious belief from aesthetic value, D'Albert, like Mauberley,
attempts to combine the two: "Depuis le Christ on n'a plus fait une
seule statue d'homme oh la beaute adolescent fut idealisee et rendue
j avec ce soin qui caractdrise les anciens sculpteurs.— La femme est
i
i devenue le symbole de la beaute” morale et physique: I'homme est
j
j rdellement dechu du jour ou le petit enfant est ne a Bethldem" (p. 223)
|
| D'Albert, caring only for externals is unable to respond intellect-
j
I ually and emotionally, on deeper levels, either to art or to the life
j
| force, represented in woman. His concern is limited to appearances:
| "Dans les femmes je n'ai cherch^ que l'ext^rieur, et, comme jusqu'a
: present celles que j'ai vues sont loin de repondre \ l'idee que je
i
I me suis faite de la beaut^, je me suis rejete” sur les tableaux et
|
] les statues" (Chapter V, p. 153). The frustrations D'Albert
!
I experiences by trying to impose the pleasures of art on the experien-
i
| ces of life constitute a continuing theme through Mademoiselle de
j
I Maupin: "j'ai regarde l'amour a la lumiere antique et comme un
imorceau de sculpture plus ou moins parfait. . . . j'aime pour les
femmes le regard d'un sculpteur et non celui d'un amant" (Chapter IX,
p. 212). All of D'Albert's theorizing and yearning and searching
i
j leads in the end to nothing. Mademoiselle de Maupin vanishes;
i
I
| D'Albert is left, like Mauberley, drifting "on/To the final estrange-
iment." D'Albert is left among his reveries, the "aerial flowers" that
once caused him to declare, "Oh. 1 je crois qu'il faudra cent mille
I
|siecles de n£ant pour me reposer de la fatigue de ces vingt ann^es ■
| de vie" (Chapter V, p. 155). This fatigue, we are fold, results from j
175
D'Albert's artistic and intellectual efforts. He is unable to sustain
thought or work; he is unable to concentrate or create: "La vie ne
me penfetre . . . et c'est meme que je vis le moins, quoique, j'ai
|l'air.d'agir . . . l'action m'hebete et me fatigue a un point dont
|
Ion ne peut se faire une idee;— quand je n'agis pas, je pense ou au
j
imoins je rSve, et c'est une fapon d'existence;--je ne 1' ai plus des
|que je sors de mon repos d'idole de porcelaine (Chapter XI, p. 278).
;D'Albert, unable to hold his porcelain-idol repose, unable to keep
|ideas and images fixedly in his mind, is unable to translate them
jinto sculpture or into any intellectual or artistic expression.
j
D'Albert explains, in a letter to Silvio^ the ultimate reason
|for not being able to produce anything of value in the world of art.
;It is not because he does not wish to; it is because he does not have
the intellectual control, the power of concentration, the energy to
■create: "Jusqu'a present, je n'ai rien fait, et j'ignore si je
jferai jamais rien. Je ne sais pas arrSter mon cerveau, ce qui est
|toute la difference de l'homme de talent a l'homme de genie ..."
j
|(Chapter XI, p. 278). D'Albert realizes that the inability to combine
intellect and emotion with the energy and determination to carry
jthrough an idea to its conclusion inevitably results in failure in
|art and in life:
ViolcL pourquoi je ne saurais vivre--ni comme poete,
ni comme amant.
Prendre une pens^e dans un filon de son cerveau,
I l'en sortir brute d'abord comme un bloc de marbre qu'on
| extrait de la carrifere, la poiser, la poser devant soi, et
| du matin au soir un ciseau d'une main, un marteau de
! l'^utre, cogner, tailler, gratter, et emporter ^ la nuit
une pincee de poudre pour jeter sur son Scriture; violh
I ce que je ne pourrai jamais faire (p. 279). . „ ___ _ _ ____
[Donald Davie's suggestion in Poet As Sculptor that Pound differs from
I Mauberley "in the barbaric virtue of energy" (p. 100) is quite true,
iBut the energy that separates the first-rate from the inferior artist,
that distinguishes Mauberley and D'Albert from their creators, is
[intellectual and creative energy. Talent and inclination and training
iare necessary, of course, But the actual artist is separated from
ithe aspiring artist by virtue of accomplishment. The completion of
a . work of art depends on the artist's sustained effort; the quality
of that art depends on the degree of the artist's intellect, his
emotional and experiential awareness. The artist's abilities, his
ideas and talent, are fused into the final work of art by the degree
of his creative energy.
Like Mauberley, D'Albert is unable to fully sustain contem
plation represented by the porcelain image. D'Albert's vision of
parddise corresponds in kind, to Mauberley's burial grounds; D'Albert's
[vision of isolation and passivity corresponds to Mauberley's imagin
ings of the "coral isle" which interrupted his "porcelain revery" and
destroyed "the artist's urge." Paradise, to D'Albert, is escape from
: and not participation in the world: "Voice comme je me reprd'sente
;le bonheur supreme:— c'est un grand b^timent carr^ sans ferfStre au
dehors. . . . Moi, je serais la, immobile, silencieux, sous un dais
magnifique, entoure de piles de carreaux, un grand lion prive sous
mon coude . . . et fumant de 1*opium dans une grande pipe de jade.
j
I Je ne me figure pas le paradis autrement (Chapter IX, p. 222).
Although D'Albert's ideas of beauty and love as well as of art could
be compared with Mauberley's and other points of convergence could
be cited, all that is possible here is to suggest that Pound infused
Mauberley with ideas he had distilled from Gautier's Mademoiselle de
Maupin.
Pound's technique of drawing out the essence of a theme or
character for recreation in his own work is typical of his approach;
it has been discussed in the "Medallion" section. We recall Hugh
Witemeyer's explanation of Pound's methods in Forms and Renewal:
Allusion may be combined with a persona, fashioned from "what may be
called 'thematic transformation'" (p. 18, See pp. 15-19): "By
thematic transformation, I mean that Pound makes an original use of
themes and modes of feeling which he has distilled from the work of
another author after careful critical pondering. He writes 'in the
spirit* of that author" (p. 18). Pound has employed this method,
utilizing the writings of a critic such as Huntley Carter. He has
also used it to incorporate Gautier's concept of D'Albert.
In his preface to Mademoiselle de Maupin, Gautier describes
several types of objectionable critics. One sort of critic always
rejects the work at hand, believing a better work will yet be written.
Gautier states,
L'on a done invent^ le critique d'avenir, la critique
prospective. Conceve-vous, du premier coup, comme cela
est charmant et provient d'une belle imagination? La
recette est simple, et l'on peut vous la dire.— La livre
qui sera beau et qu'on louera est le livre qui n'a pas
encore paru. Celui qui par^it est infailliblement
detestable. Celui de demain sera superbe; mais c'est
toujours aujourd'hui. . . . Tout en decriant ce livre
dont on est jalous, et qu'on voudrait aneantir, on se
178
donne les gants de la plus genereuse impartialite. . . .
Cette recette est bien supdrieure ^ celle que l'on pouvait
appeler retrospective et qui consiste a ne vanter que des
ourvages anciens, qu'on ne lit plus . ....(p. 31-32).
Gautier suggests a parallel between the artist, seeking the Muses's
favors and the lover. Continuing this parallel, D'Albert, with his
preconceptions of the perfect woman, resembles the critics with their
preconceptions of the perfect book: "Je n'ai pu venir a bout de
faire entrer dan ma cervelle l'idee d'un autre, dans mon fkme le
sentiment d'un autre, dans mon corps la douleur ou la jouissance d'un
autre" (p. 98). Gautier declares that the critics must be jealous of
the artist; some of literary criticism stems from "L'envie, et pas
autre chose" (p. 10). Because critics do not create, Gautier believes,
they can not share in the poet's pleasures. Thus, the critic envies
the artist: "II est douloureux de voir un autre s'asseoir au banquet
ou l'on nest pas invite'', et coucher avec la femme qui n'a pas voulu
de vous. . . . II en est de meme pour le critique qui voit le poete
se promener dans le jardin de poesie avec ses neuf belles odalisques
. . ." (p. 11). D'Albert reveals he shares the feelings that Gautier
identifies with the envious critics: "Que Platon avait bien raison
de vouloir vous bannir de sa republique, et qel mal vous nous avez
fait, c? poetes.' Que votre ambroisie nous a rendu notre absinthe
encore plus am^re; et comme nous avons trouve notre vie encore plus
aride et plus devast^e apr&s avoir plongd" nos yeus dans les per
spectives que vous nous ouvrez sur l'infini.'" (p. 66). D'Albert
voices the complaints of Gautier's wretched critics in other matters
179
as well, and Pound may well have had some of this in mind as he
icomposed Mauberley. However, the most relevant connection between
I
jD'Albert and Mauberley emerges when the methods both Gautier and Pound
used to create these characters are examined.
i
| Gautier reveals, in the preface to Mademoiselle de Maupin,
|that he desires to expose bothersome critics:
j
i Ne serait-ce quelque chose a faire que la critique des
| critiques? car ces grand d£goflt£s, qui font tant les
I superbes et les difficiles, sont loin d1avoir l'infailli-
j bilitd" de notre saint pfere. . . . Quels sont done, au bout
| de compte, ces critiques au ton si tranchant, h la parole
I si brbve, que l'on croirait les vrais fils des dieux? Ce
sont tout bonnement des hommes avec qui nou avons au
college, et ^ qui evidemment leurs etudes ont moins profite
qu'a nous, puisqu'ils n'ont produit aucun ouvrage et ne
peuvent faire autre chose que conchier et gSter ceux des
| autres comme de veritables stryges stymphalides.
‘ Gautier points out that an easy and effective method of exposing the
|critics is by merely underlining, or repeating their faulty ideas
!verbatim:
i
II y aurait de quoi remplir un journal quotidien et
! au plus grand format. Leurs bevues historiques or autres,
; leur citations controuvees, leurs fautes de franpais,
j leurs plagiats, leur radotage, leurs plaisanteries
l rebattues et de mauvais gout, leur pauvrete d'idees,
| leur manque d'intelligence et de tact, leur ignorance
des choses les plus simples qui leur fait volontiers
prendre le Piree pour un homme et M. Dularoche pour un
| peintre, fourniraient amplement aux auteurs de quoi
prendre leur revanche, sans autre travail que de souligner
les passages au crayon et de les reproduire texteullement; . . .
!D'Albert may represent some critical attitudes Gautier opposed just
I
|as Mauberley represents attitudes and ideas of the critics Pound
i
'opposed. In creating Mauberley, Pound has followed Gautier's sug-
| !
igestions simply to reproduce the betises encountered in order to j
! ' j
expose the offending critic or artist-pretender. Gautier's method
can be included in Pound's explanation of logopoeia:
LOGOPOEIA, 'the dance of the intellect among words,' that
is to say, it employs words not only for their direct
meaning, but it takes count in a special way of habits of
usage, of the context we expect to find with the word, its
usual concomitants, of its known acceptances, and of
ironical play. . . . Logopoeia dops nottranslate; though
the attitude of mind it expresses may pass through a
paraphrase . . . having determined the original author's
state of mind, you may or may not be able to find a
derivative or an equivalent. 5
Pound has employed logopoeia in Homage to Sextus Propertius,
J. P. Sullivan concludes. Mr. Sullivan explains: "Logopoeia is not,
as one might immediately think, simply 'wit' of the Aagustan or even
metaphysical kind. . . . Nor is it the sort of verbal ambiguity
analyzed by William Empson or the very rhetorical 'wit1 we normally
associate with Tacitus. It is something more subtle than these. It
is much more a self-conscious poetic and satiric attitude which is
O £ .
expressed through a certain way of writing . . . All of Mr.
Sullivan's explanations of logopoeia, however, can be related directly
to Gautier's directions for ironically exposing the false critics in
his preface to Mademoiselle de Maupin. Gautier recommended using
direct quotation, exhibiting errors or fallacies directly, in order
to expose their falsity. This is essentially how Mr. Sullivan
explains Pound's technique in employing logopoeia: "I suggest then
that logopoeia is a refined mode of irony which shows itself in
certain delicate linguistic ways, in a sensitivity to how language is
used in other contexts, and in a deployment of these other uses for
181
j
i its own humorous or satiric or poetic aims, to produce an effect
jdirectly contrary to their effect in the usual contexts. Thus
magniloquence can be deployed against magniloquence, vulgarity against
! vulgarity, and poeticisms against poeticizing" (p. 67). In a letter
!to Edgar Jepson, Pound reveals that this method of satirizing is
jexactly what he used to expose the falsity and errors he saw: "Ex-
i pression of dislike is no use. Illustration of rottenness by single
'punk lines DOES the job."^ Pound suggests that he used this method
in Propertius, because he believed Sextus Propertius himself employed
such satiric methods. In a letter to Felix Schelling, defending his
' Homage, Pound alleges that critics of the poem do not understand the
ironical use of words Propertius himself employs, much less Pound's
own use of them: "MacKail (accepted as 'right' opinion on the Latin
poets) hasn't apparently, any inkling of the way in which Propertius
is using Latin. Doesn't see that S.P. is tying .blue ribbon on the
tails of Virgil and Horace . . ."38 Sullivan points out that
T. S. Eliot has understood Pound's view of Propertius and agrees with
Pound's interpretation:
! Eliot says of the Homage: "It is also a criticism of Pro-
;pertius, a criticism which in a most interesting way insists upon an
element of humour, of irony and mockery, in Propertius, which Mackail
and other interpreters have missed. I think that Pound is critically
;right, and that Propertius was more civilized than most of his inter
preters have admitted ..." (Sullivan, p. 67). Pound also reveals
he is using phrases ironically to expose false attitudes in an
182
explanation of the Homage, written to A. R. Orage:
2. Hale pretends to read Latin, but has apparently
never understood anything but syntax and never
seen the irony of Propertius. . . .
6 . Mask of erudition is precisely what I have not
assumed; it is precisely what I have thrown on
the dust h e a p . *
In Sullivan's terms: Pound, in Propertius, has employed the "mask of
erudition" against the mask of erudition. I suggest that, in Mauber
ley, Pound employs the critical, cynical learned attitude against the
critical, cynical, learned attitude.
This technique can be identified not only in Gautier's des
cription in his preface to Mademoiselle de Maupin and in Pound's
interpretation of the poems of Propertius, but also in Pound's ex
planation of the poems of Laforgue, Gautier, Propertius, and Laforgue
are united by their use of logopoeia, in Pound's mind: "Sometime
after his first "book" S.P. ceased to be the dupe of magniloquence,
and began to touch words somewhat as Laforgue did. Laforgue, Pound
declares, "laughed out the errors of Flaubert, i.e., the clogging and
cumbrous historical detail. . . . His, Laforgue's Salomd*makes game
of the rest. . . . I think Laforgue implies definitely that certain
things in prose were at an end. I think also that he marks the next
phase after Gautier in French poetry.Laforgue, Pound continues,
"is the finest wrought; he is most 'verbalist,' Bad verbalism is
rhetoric, or the use of cliche*unconsciously, or a mere playing with
phrases. But there is good verbalism, distinct from lyricism or
imagism, and in this Laforgue is a master" C^rony" Literary Essays,
183
p. 282). In Mauberley, Pound exposes what he calls "bad verbalism."
As early as 1912, Pound waged war on such rhetoric: "As far as the
'living art1 goes, I should like to break up cliche, to disintegrate
these magnetized groups . . . to escape from lines composed of two
very nearly equal sections, each containing a noun and each noun
decorously attended by a carefully selected epithet gleaned,
apparently, from Shakespeare, Pope or H o r a c e . ^ when such a cliche
or a "carefully selected epithet" appears in Mauberley, Pound is using
clichd' ironically, against clichd; and epithet against epithet, re
peating mtehods used by Propertius and Laforgue. This method is
employed, for example, in such lines as
0 bright Apollo,
i[pu>a., 'Hva btbV,
What god, man, or hero
Shall I place a tin wreath upon!
Pound reveals his opinion of Pindar's verse in a letter to Iris Barry:
"To the best of my knowledge there is no history of Greek poetry that
is worth ANYthing. They all go on gassing about the 'deathless voice'
and the 'Theban Eagle' as if Pindar wasn't the prize wind-bag of all
ages. The 'bass-drum,' etc."^ Pound cites the lines used in
Mauberley as an example of Pindar's rhetorical approach and inflated
sentiment: "^tV* 6Vpl XiX «.SKoV( V
began Pindar. How he'd have 'done' a baseball game! And what an ass
you or I would look if we began an account of the Derby with a query
as to 'what God, what hero, or what man' it was fitting to shout
for."^ For Pound, the satiric thrust at Mauberley's pompous posture
|in deciding "what god, man, or hero" is especially sharp, as Pound
;believes, "The crowns, wreaths, palmes acad^miques, etc. should be
removed from all the poetic statues at least twice in each century,
and only put back when a new generation finds the work glorious and
moving and indispensable. . . . However, there will be no end of
people writing about 'Theban eagles' and perverting the taste of
small boys."^"* Mauberley reveals his inability to "sift TO AGATHON
;from the chaff" not only in modern, but in classical writing as well.
Nor is Pound like Laforgue merely in his use of irony. Pound
! and Laforgue also compose their poetic characters similarly. Warren
Ramsey, in his study, Jules Laforgue and the Ironic Inheritance, finds
"From Hartmann, Laforgue had learned to think of the human individual
as an aggregate, a sum of many individuals. He had noted Hartmann's
quotation from Spinoza, 'the human body consists of several indivi-
r 9
duals of various nature, each of which is very complex." The
description fits Mauberley. Pound drew his persona from various
sources; each source, an individual "of various nature"; but from
these sources Pound distilled the essence of the personalities that
seemed most relevant to his aesthetic concerns, or poetic themes.
Pound blends various sources and themes to create Mauberley. Pound
reveals his interest in determining particular states of mind in two
series of articles written for The New Age: "Studies on Contemporary
Mentality" and "The Revolt of Intelligence." He combed newspapers
and magazines sorting out various attitudes and beliefs in order to
discover what the public accepted, absorbed, and acted upon. Pound
185
i was appalled by what appeared in widely distributed journals. For
' example, in "Studies on Contemporary Mentality . . . The Beating Heart
i of the Magazine," Pound found a "maze of incoherent.and proverbial
| statements. . . . Sex heave of the individual entirely circumlocuted,
J passion of the individual with its infinite ricochets untouched.
Question again arises: Is this critical estimate correct, or are the
people, for whom this stuff is poured out, so devitalized that ques-
; tion of individual passion, individual drive, is not a factor in their
existence? . . . Many questions flow round one: Is this stratum
; maintained, reproduced, by multitudes verging on impotence?"^ In
j "The Revolt of Intelligence," Pound explains why he is investigating
! various journals and papers: "I am searching, as usual, for a
quality of intelligence, or, if you like, for a quality of stupid
ity."^® From his search, Pound adduced characteristics associated
with various states of mind represented in these journals. For
j example, Pound analyzed The Times and mused, "The really vigorous
mind might erect 'The Times,1 which is of no importance, into a
i symbol of the state of mind which 'The Times' represents, which is
a loathsome state of mind, a malebolge of obtuseness. Pound
; described the state of mind which troubled him and revolted him as
he had encountered in "The Times" and other influential London
journals: "The state of mind in 'high circles' which permitted
Voltaire to go to the Bastille and which instigated his imprisonment
was a cause— was, at bottom, the cause. The state of mind in which
the English Parliamentary milieu which fled from nude statement and
186
sought refuge in, or chose to express its official taste for, a
padded Wordsworth-Keatsian idiom, was also a cause, whereof the
'Georgians' were the symptom. This particular "state of mind"
Pound decides, is often regarded as "common sense":
Does the popular "common sense" consist in the huddling
together of proverbial phrases (often indisputable facts,
or, at least, relatively indisputable metaphor), with
incoherent deductions, contradictions, etc., leading to yet
other contradictions; giving the whole fabric a glamour
of soundness? The popular reader gets a proverbial phrase
which he accepts; he then passes through something which
is but a blurr to his mind; he is worried for a moment
then he comes on the next proverbial phrase, is soothed,
thinks the "whole thing is all right.
Mauberley, as we shall see, presents such "common sense." Mauberley
is Pound's representation of that state of mind which alarmed and
repelled Pound.
Mauberley, "this fictitious Englishman is no fool," Donald
Davie decides. Mauberley exhibits wide knowledge of art and litera
ture; he appears learned. But we have already seen that Mauberley
cannot make fine discriminations; he cannot "sift TO AGATHON from
the chaff." Pound suggests a. reason why Mauberley, and the writers
Mauberley represents have so completely and so consistently fooled
their readers: "Impersonal or general reflection: Many people who
are obviously and undeniably stupid are, it appears, able to write
long articles without making 'gaffes,' without in any egregious way
displaying any of their particular mental limitations or their
stupidities.”52 This is made possible, Pound explains, because of the
reader's reliance on "common sense" or commonly held opinions; and
because of the writers' ability to reproduce the reader's "state of
i 18(7
I mind" exactly: "This is because there are in England, perhaps more
i
|than in any other country a great number of people who, without think
ing, without any constructive or difinitive mental process of their
:own, manage to find out what ought to be thought upon any given subject
!or subjects. And they acquire a suitable and convenient proficiency
in the expression of these suitable 'thoughts'" (p. 385). The "New
;Statesman" presents an example of the writers' reflection of the
reader's state of mind: "The 'New Statesman' is a prime exemplar of
the species, leading the sheltered life behind a phalanx of immobile
ideas; leading the sheltered thought behind a phalanx of immobile
phrases . . . the magnetism of this stupendous vacuity.' The sweet
|reasonableness, the measured tone . . . Prestigious, astounding!
i . . . The reader is not unpleasantly and suddenly hustled with
novelties."53 This also is true of the ideas presented from Hugh
Selwyn Mauberley's point of view. Mauberley, as we shall see,
.;represents the state of mind that Pound encountered in the London
journals: this state of mind was especially relevant to Pound's own
:work, as he believed that the journalist-critic stood between the
public and the artist's work— to the detriment of art: "The scholar,
often selfish, will as a rule have little to do with Contemporary
letters. He plays it safe. He confines himself to what many have
already approved. The journalist is left as our jury. . . . The
I journalist and his papers exist by reason of their protective coloring.
It is their job to think as their readers think at a given moment.
The journalist, instead of attempting to refine or improve public
188
taste, merely reflects it: "A very successful journalist said to
i
j me: We i.e., we journalists, are like mediums. People go to a
I
| spiritist seance and hear what they want to hear. It is the same
; with a leading article; we write so that the reader will find what
j he wants to find."55 This approach, instead of bringing the public
into a greater understanding or appreciation of contemporary litera-
!
' ture, merely perpetuates standards, styles, and tastes of the past.
: The journalists continuing reassertion of the outdated or contradic
tory opinions that Pound categorizes as "common sense" serves to |
obstruct the work of art; the journalists approach exists, to Pound's
; mind, in complete contradistinction to the artists': "The root of
I the difference is that ih: journalism the reader finds what he is
;
looking for, what he, the reader, wants; whereas in literature he
i must find at least a part of what the author intended. That is why
'the first impression of a work of genius' is 'nearly always dis-
: agreeable,' at least to the 'average man'" (p. 146). The original
: i
; work of art, Pound believes, presents ideas and attitudes yet un- j
familiar to the general public, and the public resents having to j
i I
i confront ideas that may disrupt their familiar thoughts, ideas that j
I j
! may interrupt the status quo: "The public loathes the violence done I
| ■ |
| to their self-conceit whenever an author conveys to them an idea that j
| j
is his* not their own."^6 Pound believed in the necessity to ques-
i
; tion the status quo, to re-examine values and opinions instead of
j ’ i
| simply accepting the ideas handed out as "common opinion": "Values, j
, | like clothing, can be obtained ready made, and, . . . vast hordes of j
189
the genus gentleman would seem to have acquired their mental furnish
ing on the 'ready-made' system. "-*7 Pound shares this view with Wynd-
j
ham Lewis: "There was once a man who began an article: 'WE MUST j
|
KILL JOHN BULL, we must kill him with Art.' These words smote the j
astonished eyes of the British public. No other Englishman had ever
before so blasphemed the effete national symbol. . . . The writer
was, needless to say, Wyndham Lewis. He will probably have died for
his country before they find out what me meant."-*® Fortunately for
Pound, not all the journals in London ascribed to John Bull's state
of mind; and Pound contributed numerous articles to the journal that
had open-minded policies: "Mr. A. R. Orage of The New Age was the
i
sole editor of any London weekly who encouraged mental activity. On j
every other weekly . . . there was a carefully prepared 'correct'
opinion. The writers for these papers knew to a jot just what was
the proper view in every possible case."-*® The state of mind, the j
i
common opinion, presented in the majority of the well-established, j
respected (respectable?) journals, Pound instilled into his persona, j
j
Mauberley. His ironic treatment of Mauberley's views depends on the I
I
I
I
Laforguian method described above, and his purpose was to expose the j
fallacies of Mauberley's beliefs: "The awakening comes when men i
j
decide that certain lines need no longer be stuck to. . . . Whether !
i
these be actual forgeries like the Donation of Constantine which j
I
Valla himself exposed, or whether they are the unwritten fallacies
fin
of general credence." It is because Mauberley represents state
ments of "general credence" that his fallacies are so difficult to !
190
detect. Because Mauberley appears sane, and sincere, and educated—
in short, because he exhibits certain public virtues— and because he
i
i presents ideas that seem compatible with our own, readers find Mauber-
i
ley rather a sympathetic character. Hence, friendly critics have
been perfectly willing to identify Mauberley with Pound. Pound, how-
| ever, would not have it so. For Mauberley expresses opinions that ;
i
I are repugnant to Pound.
j '
| One critic has already noted various inconsistencies in logic
| and judgment within the opening poetic sequence. Donald Davie is
i disturbed by Poem V, for example: ’ ’ Section V . . . reduces the value j
j j
; of European civilization to ’two gross of broken statues, 1 in a way j
f t 1 j
1 that doubtless Pound would not endorse. . . ." Mr. Davie, however, ;
I I
I is generously willing to overlook such difficulties: "But from a j
j lyric one doesn't anyway expect considered judgments" (p. 321).
| Perhaps Pound would not be so inclined to accept and apologize for !
the judgment of Poem V; perhaps he would not only "not endorse," but
i |
i would condemn the views presented in Poems II - V. j
' j
The speaker of Poem III expresses regret for the passing of j
; i
| the mystery religions; for the intrusion of Christianity: j
; Christ follows Dionysus,
! Phallic and ambrosial
; Made way for macerations;
Caliban casts out Ariel,
j _ !
| The speaker sentimentalizes the classical religions, and laments their{
j |
| passing. Yet, does he present a distorted, misleading picture? Are j
I ■ l
i the frenzied ceremonies of the bloody Dionysian rites entirely am- j
| j
brosial? Does Christ represent less torment, less personal
"macerations" than Dionysus? And does Christ correspond to the
bestial Caliban? Are we not lulled— tricked— into accepting a super- j
ficial and fallacious evaluation of these central historical-mythical j
figures and the religions they represent? !
Christ may correspond to the bestial Caliban in Mauberley's
I
view; in Pound's, he did not. Mauberley may regret the loss of the |
I
Christian rituals; Pound did not. Rather, Pound professed admiration j
i
of Christ himself and objected strongly to the ritualistic trappings |
|
of the Church. In "Provincialism The Enemy II," Pound reveals his
respect for Christ, and he also asserts his opposition to the reli- j
gious organisation: "I think the world can well dispense with the
Christian religion, and certainly with all paid and banded together
ministers of religion. But I also think that "Christ," as presented j
i
in the New Testament (real or fictitious personage, it is no matter), j
is a most profound philosophic genius, and one credible in the stated j
62
surroundings; an intuitive, inexperienced man. . . ." Pound dis- !
tinguishes emphatically again between his opinion of Christ and of j
j
the Christian religion as it has been practised in his article j
"Studies in Contemporary Mentality." Pound believed that the value i
i
of Christ as an example for humane behavior had been lost through the
i
i
narrow-minded, materialistic, and ritualistic operations of the j
|
Christian Church. Pound remarked, "Christ Himself, His brilliant j
remarks, His attractive personality, His profound intuitions, being
now scarcely more than a bit of camouflage draped over a corporate
I
body, or, rather, several corporate bodies styling itself, and them- !
|
selves, "His C h u r c h . j
192
Mauberley does not rest by complaining that Christianity is
a poor substitute for the classical religions--he also suggests that
i
j
I now we have even impoverished Christianity. What he finds lacking,
i
J in modern Christianity, are the rites and rituals of the church:
I ,
I Faun s flesh is not to us,
Nor the saint's vision,
i We have the press for wafer;
| Franchise for circumcision.
But what does "Faun's flesh" represent? It may refer to Christ's
body, eaten in the Eucharist. Of, in "Religio or "The Child's Guide
|
i to Knowledge," Pound offers his definition:
I
> What is a faun?
A Faun is an elemental creature.
| Pound, however, does not desire the faun's "flesh," rather he
I
i believes, "It is fitting to please and to nourish them with flowers"
| (p. 97). The phrase "Fawn's flesh" has undercurrents of association
jwith the ancient practice of sacrifice which in turn has evolved into
! the Christian communion ritual. It is the acceptance of such a
! phrase that Pound opposes; unthinking acquiescence precludes indivi-
i dual or intelligent judgment: "Some of these clots of superstes
i coagulate about metaphorical cliches like 'the blood of the lamb.'
! Translate these cliches into some other equivalent linguistic form,
; such as 'lamb's blood,' or call the dove a pigeon and a large part of
I the narcotic falls out of them.Pound does not share Mauberley's
| sentiments regarding religion. He rejects these rituals of the church.
j Mauberley does not explain just what "saint's vision" he
i
I regrets losing. On one hand, his statement implies that only saints
193
have "vision," and he regrets the loss of "vision1 . 1 in modern society.
For Pound, this view is simply untrue. Although it is impossible to
j fully explore Pound's religious beliefs here, Pound sees the artist j
las a visionary. Pound believed the saints presented a "vision" of j
I |
!life after death; and that this, historically, is used by the churches J
! I
; I
j to govern and control the lives of the people. Pound, in contrast to
I Mauberley, objects to the emphasis on the vision of the hereafter.
!He objects to the Church's emphasis on the "salvation of the soul" in
I afterlife. . Daniel Pearlman explains: "Pound feels that the Christianj
' i
I emphasis on the afterlife is the worst of the doctrinal evils result- j
ing from its dualistic orientation to reality. . . . (The Barb of Time,
p. 97). Pound also strongly objected to the use of the "saint's
j , I
ivision" as a justification for asserting that Christianity is the
jonly "true" religion and for creating untold horrors (Inquisition,
ifor examplein order to force the rest of the world to conform to
|the tenets of such visions: "We should not assume that Christ knew
: more than Confucius until we have read Confucius. . . . Nor should we
iassume that Darwin said the last word, or that Christianity is the
ireligion of all the world."67 Pound regrets, not the loss of, but j
|the concern with the "saint's vision." The value of Confucius' j
i |
thought is that it is not concerned with a visionary view of the here- I
! !
after; but with an individual's obligation to form a responsible moral j
; ’ I
: j
code: "The things neglected in Christianity are precisely the j
things so well thought in the philosophy of Confucius. . . . It is a
I • I
istatesman's way of thinking. The thought is for the community. |
Confucius' constant emphasis is on the value of personality, on the
outline of personality, and of his duty hot to interfere with the
personalities of o t h e r s . "68 The emphasis on the "saint's vision"
may detract from the individual obligation to order his own life;
and to respect the rights of others to believe differently. One' of
Confucius's virtues, in Pound's eyes, is that Confucius does not
claim to have had the "saint's vision." Pound's choice of a model
for humanity, was not Christ, but Confucius. "Confucius,” Pound
claims, is "The first man who did not receive a divine inspira
t i o n . " ^ pound associated the "saint's vision” with the revelation
of a life hereafter. In his series of articles, "Studies in Contem
porary Mentality,” he objected to.the Christian preoccupation with the
life after death and implied that this preoccupation is nurtured by
the divine inspiration or vision that supposedly reveals the "here
after." The "Hereafter," Pound declares, "seems in brief to say to
me that the main glory of Christ lies in the future. . . . 0 for the
Holy Spirit's power at this moment; for it is written, "He will show
you things to come."^® Confucianism, on the other hand, Pound be
lieved, is not concerned with the future life, but with ordering and
improving this life for humanity. For this reason, Pound believed,
"The things neglected in Christianity are precisely the things so well
thought in the philosophy of Confucius. . . (p. 268). Pound wished
to establish ethical practices and to eliminate ritual as a basis for
human behavior: "The principles of Confucius will do quite as well,
probably better than those of the Gospels; any humane ethics would
probably serve; at least they would free us from the plague of
vendors of taboos, and practitioners of sacerdotal monopolies; from
bigots who will pretend to a right, a soft of droit du seigneur, to
interfere in other men's private lives."71 Mauberley's disparaging
of Christ and his yearning for ritual do not, in any way, reflect
I
Pound's own attitudes. Rather, Mauberley expresses the very beliefs i
|
Pound deplored. Mauberley also regrets that "We have the press for j
|
wafer." Communication rather than communion? Pound, however much he j
may disapprove of what regularly appeared in "the press" would never j
regret the loss of the "wafer." Pound agreed, rather, with Allan I
j
Upward's analysis of the communion ritual, the consumption of the
1
symbolic blood and flesh of Christ, as an adaptation of the ancient j
i
sacrificial rites performed by the flesh-eating Dionysians. Allan J
i
I
Upward, in The Divine Mystery, offers this view of Christian com- j
munion: "Much of the imagery of the Christian writers is Christo- j
labrous and the Communion ritual of the Church imitates in symbol the j
dreadful rites of man's dark past."72 The sentimental view of the j
Dionysians, the unthinking regret for the loss of symbolic, or actual,I
l
sacrifice represent the views composing the "state of mind" that i
|
Pound opposed. Mauberley regrets that "We have . . ./Franchise for j
circumcision." Pound, on the other hand, associates such a ritual |
I
as circumcision with superstition and ignorance; with the remnants of
outdated belief:
The ignorance of the difference between what is new
and what is old is of the deepest; the ignorance of the |
demarcation between precedent, tradition, and innovation j
is— no, not incredible— but it drives one back to Renan, |
196
'La bdtise humaine est la seule chose qul donne une
idee de 1*infini.'
We turn to a current religious publication, said
to have done "a great deal of good." Voila!
'Holding the Bible in my two hands, and to my
heart, I rejoice to say I believe every word
in this book, whether I understand it or not.'
j We turn to the work in question: "Then Zipporah
| took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin:
| of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said,
Surely a bloody husband art thou to me.
j So he let him go; then she said, A bloody
husband thou art, because of the circumcision."
— Exodus IV, 25-26.
Really.this work is more entertaining than one remembered
it to be, more comic; but that twentieth century man
should be influenced by this antique abracadabra is a
I degredation, an ignominy past all bounds of the comic.
| Rather than sharing Mauberley's sentimentalizing of the rites and
i
! rituals of the church, Pound regrets only that views associated with i
these religious trappings are promulgated at all: "one may question
: i
!
1 whether an embeddedness in ancient superstitions, in modes of men- i
| |
\ ■ I
tality, erroneously said to be obsolete— to be dead issues— does or j
does not predispose men to examine new ideas, or any ideas, with }
; fair and open intelligence. . . . What I want the reader to consider j
; |
is the type and types of mentality which cause the obstructions to !
| • [
| peace, to sane economics, to sane 'customs' and which make possible j
| I
| the prolongation of 'superstitions,' superstes, left-overs" (p. 177). j
i i
| Pound dissociates himself from any allegiance to Christian rituals: !
, 1
: In a letter to John Quinn, Pound declares: "Heaven knows, I may
| have a touch of it myself re Xtianity, but I try to control it, and
i
| it is really a development of the belief that most of the tyrannies |
i !
j of modern life, or at least a lot of stupidities are based on Xtn !
i I
taboos, and can't really be got rid of radically until Xtianity is j
197
taken lightly and sceptically. . . .”7^ Because religion is not taken
sceptically, Pound believes, "Christianity has become a sort of
Prussianism, and will have to go. All the bloody moral attacks are
based on superstition, religion, or whatever it is to be called. It
has its uses and is disarming, but it is too dangerous. Religion is
7 c
the root of all evil, or damn near all."
Pound's views are also a complete contrast to Mauberley's
views on politics. Mauberley presents what seems to be an anti
democratic attitude; He demeans what "We have," the press,and "Fran
chise," by suggesting it is a poor substitute for the church rituals.
He seemingly regrets that
All men, in law, are equals.
Free of Pisistratus,
We choose a knave or an eunuch
To rule over us.
He implies that because we are able to vote in our ldaders, we have
undesirable leaders. However, the important question to be asked is,
what is the alternative to choosing such a leader? What is the
alternative to having "All men in law" being equals? If the speaker
is asking for a replacement of the present governmental system, what
does he intend to substitute for it? Perhaps the answer is that the
speaker has not thought through the implications of what he has said.
Perhaps he has not thought at all, but merely repeated the general
ized discontent and cursory criticism always leveled against any
governments (but only openly expressed in a society where "All men,
in law, are equals.”)
198 I
If Mauberley does not trust the vote, can he offer a better
system for finding leaders? Pound, in contrast, has never been anti
democratic in the sense presented in this verse.
i
In "Studies in Contemporary Mentality XI. The Bright and
j Snappy," Pound aligns himself with the democratic form of governmenti
j "We most of us believe, more or less, in democracy. Pound be-
I lieved so strongly in democratic representation that he objected to
j
i the proposed League of Nations because Woodrow Wilson's plan called
j
j for appointed, not elected representatives. Pound declared, "What
j we want is not the League as proposed, but an International Chamber,
! as distinct from a small committee of men sent from governmental
i
1 pocket boroughs of each country; we want a larger body elected by
7 7
I direct vote of the people." Pound also conceived this International
| Chamber as a moral force, which received its authority from the vote
I
; of the people: "This body should sit not less than six months per |
| year; should have no power of force but only of persuasion; not a
• ; - i
I matter of men, dates, and commands, but purely a moral power. Any j
j l
: man who received the vote of a half million people anywhere on any !
i I
| particular issue should have the right to be heard by this Chamber. j
| . . ."(p. 153). Pound's model for the method of electing interna- !
| |
| tional representatives was the system of the United States government. !
i i
I Pound believed, "A League of Nations, whose sole visible being should i
j I
be a large Chamber of Deputies, bearing the same relation to indivi- j
j dual State Governments in States where the senators are chosen j
• • J
! directly by the people, should be a force of international j
199
understanding, moral force constituted in recognition of the futility
of violent means" (p. 153). Mauberley may have disparaged franchise,
but Pound recommended it.
In a letter bo John Quinn, Pound wonders about the political
j fanaticism of Maud Gonne. She objects to the present, established
i
j order of government, but she can offer no viable alternative:
M&udeJ G (onnej (statement from herself) did hold a
meeting in Dublin to express sympathy with the Russian
Bolsheviks. . . . So far as I can make out, M.G.'s only
constructive political idea is that Ireland and the rest
i of the world should be free to be one large Donegal fair.
| She now favours a "republic," but she was Boulangerist
I in France, and I think they were once royalistic. Have
! all the Irish a monomania? . . . She is still full of
! admiration for Lenin. (I, on the other hand, have talked
with Russians.)78
j Continuing his appraisal of Maud Gonne, Pound adds, "I think the
! term "fanatic" in my cable was the just one. M/audeJ does not seem
; lunatic. . . . It is a great pity, with all her charm, that the mind
twists everything that goes into it, on this particular subject (just
f
: like Yeats on his ghosts)" (p. 141). Without fully considering the
j consequences of change, and the alternatives to the established system,
| the public falls easy prey to such fanatics. Pound realizes that
| I
jwithout the "Franchise" as a weapon for change, the alternative may |
i i
! j
! become violence as a means of change. He realizes, too, that when |
| . i
I the use of violence is required to overthrow a system, then violence j
j may continue as a tool to sustain such a system; present evils may be
j
! replaced with equivalent or worse evils and irrevocable tyranny.
i i
! i
; Accepting the state of mind Mauberley presents, one becomes a victim j
| j
■ of fanatical leaders (who may be lunatic as well as fanatic), desiring j
200
dissolution of a system by means other than the vote. Pound's own
attitude toward franchise and revolution is expressed in the same
letter to John Quinn: "As for the 'revolution,' we have had one here
during the war, quite orderly, in the extension of franchise. Nobody
much minds there being several more. But there remains the tempera
ment that wants revolution with violence ..." (p. 140). Pound
declared, "Personally, I do not desire a revolution with violence,
and idiocies of this sort therefore annoy me."79 Unlike Mauberley,
!
Pound's concerns during this period are not centered on religion or
politics. The whole force of his writings at this time is focused
i
I
| on presenting, not religious or political beliefs, but the values of
I
j civilisation: "Fundamentally, I do not care 'politically.' I care
! for civilisation, and I do not care who collects the taxes or who
i
| polices the thoroughfares. . . . The only things that matter are the
| things which make individual life more interesting."^ Pound ex-
j plains, however, that civilization to him means far more than a form
|
| of government: "For the 'normal' American mind the word Democracy
! and the word civilisation are interchangeable. . . . The term Demo-
i
j cracy means nothing more than government by the people. . . . The
i term civilisation implies some care for, and proficiency in, the arts,
j
sciences, and amenities.®^- For Pound, civilisation by definition can
! not be "botched." It may be ignored, scorned, misunderstood, or re-
!
I jected, but civilisation itself represents the most positive forces,
I
i values, and achievements to which man can aspire. Civilisation, to
j
! Pound, represents the sum of man's artistic and intellectual heritage. \
201
"Civilisation," he declared in "Provincialism the Enemy. IV," "is
made by men of unusual intelligence. It is their product."®^
"Civilisation," Pound believes, "means the enrichment of life and the
abolition of violence."®® It is a misunderstanding of the value and
meaning of civilisation that leads to attitudes such as Mauberley's,
and a rejection of the benefits civilisation can give to us. In
"The Revolt of Intelligence," Pound explains, "The function of civil
isation is to build up immaterial values. A misconception of this
leads to such inflammatory titles as 'The Revolt of Labour against
Civilisation.' As long as this fallacy remains unchallenged, there
is perhaps a danger that Labour, poor Labour, might conceivably damage
'civilisation' . . . Labour revolts not against civilisation but
against exploitation."®^ Pound specifically distinguishes between the
flaws in government and people and the attributes of civilisation:
Two civilised men can share an appreciation of the Venus de Milo
without either one impoverishing the other, and without a desire to
cut each other's throats. That is because of an immaterial value
|
established. The establishment of enough values of this sort consti
tute a civilisation. It has nothing to do with usury and taxation."
(Ibid., p. 301). Pound may have seen grave flaws in certain nation
alistic or religious practices and beliefs; but he did not reject
civilisation, as he conceived it, as a result. "The more I see of
nations," Pound declared, "the more I loathe them; the more I learn
of civilisation the more I desire that it exist and that such scraps
of it as we have should be preserved for us and for our successors."®®
202
Pound clearly distinguishes between his concept of civilisation and
of societal flaws in a letter to Felix Schelling: "There are things
j
i
jI quite definitely want to destroy, and which I think will have to
be annihilated before civilisation can exist, i.e., anything I shd.
Jdignify with the title civilisation."®®
| Mauberley may be able to describe civilisation as "an old
1
jbitch gone in the teeth"; but for Pound, civilisation was represented
|not by "an old bitch," but by Aphrodite, goddess of Love.
j Writers may be concerned with public affairs; but Pound
jbelieves that their first obligation is to these values of civilisa-
!tion, and not to any political party, or nationality, or religion:
! We are always being told, as Gaudier by the old French
j Captain in 1914, "La Patrie n'est pas en danger." Even
De Gourmont leaned toward the symbolistic error of
i detachment; the man of letters need not, perhaps to "down
into the forum"— i.e., the House of Commons--or take up
a detailed answer to all the editorials in the Press, but
j he must have some concern for public affairs, recognising
the impossibility of his works having any immediate effect,
but trying to conserve at least a free corner, a "lighted
| spot," a "sound core," somewhere in the gehenna.
| There is a fashion in some present French literature
to make fun of popular representation: This is a natural
i reaction from the guff of writers who attempted to take
i direct action in politics, and to the political leader-
! writers: salvation with neither party.®^
|
!Pound bases his own value system on the basis of the achievements
j
icivilisation revealed in the arts and sciences, and not on the basis
!of politics or religion:
I have an affection for the arts. In the morass of
"modern life," I believe that the arts are the only
: things worth keeping up.
! Religion is only the mess that is made whenever
priests try to exploit the arts to their— i.e., the
203
priests, own profit. . . . In any case, all organized
religion is a state graft or a priest graft; the only
true religion is the revelation made in the arts.
. . . I don't care whether or no the capitalist system
decays, but . . . one of the finest symptoms of its
rottenness is that the care of the arts has been given
over to the poor, and to the just-above-poor.®®
This concern for the arts, and for civilisation that to Pound, re
presents the heritage of the arts (uniting countries and centuries),
constitutes the core of the value system Pound accepts. This atti
tude separates Pound from Mauberley.
Mauberley's attitude toward the war is to express regret for
the war waste; to lament the mess the returning soldiers discovered
at home: The men
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;
usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.
Pound, however, sees no benefits in passive expressions of dillusion
and disappointment: In a letter to Harriet Monroe, Pound identifies
such complaints as Mauberley's as a danger to reviving civilisation
and to continuing progress in improving individual lives after the
war: "I wonder if England will spend the next ten years in internal
squabble after Germany is beaten. It's all very well to see the
troops flocking from the four corners of Empire. It is a very fine
sight. But, but, but, civilization, after the battle is over and
everybody begins to call each other thieves and liars inside the
Empire. . . . One wonders if the war is only a stop gap. Only a
symptom or the real disease."®^ Pound reaffirms his concern with
204
establishing the values of civilization over and above any other
cause, in spite of what the general state of mind may seem to be:
j
! "There were 16 millions that did not elect Hoover. It takes about
i
j 600 people to make a civilization. There were umpteen billions of
j
I unbreached barbarians in the north woods when Athens etc. . . . If
: the 243 Americans who ever heard of civilization wd. quit crabbing
1 each other and organize, it wd. be a start. To hell with what some-
j
| body else isn't doing.Pound saw civilisation as the basis on
I
I
i which to build a society without war and without inequity.
| Mauberley, however, does not realize such values; he dis-
i regards the values of civilisation and relegates the art and
I
literature civilisation has produced to the junkheap. Civilisation,
I to Mauberley, is "an old bitch gone in the teeth." He sees only "a
: botched civilization"--and the sum of its accomplishments in the arts
| is worthless: Men have struggled and died— for what? Mauberley j
! |
| believes, for nothing: "For two gross of broken statues,/For a few j
! thousand battered books." The war, of course, was not fought for art; I
i i
; t
I it was not fought for civilization, but against it. Pound realizes
I !
| this: Oh Diana of Ephesus, let the world proceed on its way toward i
i a non-national future, in which no man will be compelled to fight for
! any other man, organization, or oil company."'^ On the contrary,
I Pound believes that the arts, such broken statues and battered books,
! j
! may be all that is left of value in the civilization. "Broken I
! |
i statues" and "battered books" is no evidence that a civilization is ’
j I
! "botched." Rather, Pound sees such statues and books as a basis on
205
which to renew civilization. Such remains may be all that is left of
former civilization, but for Pound, it may be enough to begin anew:
”A few blocks of stone really carved are very nearly sufficient base
|
for a new civilization. The garbage of three empires collapsed over
I
| Gaudier's marble. And as that swill is cleared off, as the map of a
j new Europe becomes visible Gaudier's work reemerges, perfectly
solid.what is left after the war is over, the remnants of the
civilization that Pound hoped to preserve is all that does remain to
| help society reestablish values and hopes: . . . "subsidized pacifists
! are still ready to betray their country, any country, for the sake of
i
I !
j a subsidy. All this has been or continues, and a few hunks of carved
'marble remain.
|
| Mauberley's attitudes lead to a negation of the aesthetic
i
i values Pound championed. Mauberley, in complete contrast to Pound,
| rejects the values of art, represented in the art works that survived
i the war, and the values of civilization. Mauberley finds religion
i . i
; lacking, politics unsatisfactory, and finally, civilisation worthless, j
i i
\ i
; Pound demonstrates that this state of mind leads to impotence in life ;
I I
j as well as in art; Mauberley is doomed to oblivion because he recog-
i
nizes nothing of value in life. Because Mauberley is unable "To sift j
TO AGATHON from the chaff," he is unable to separate what is of value, j
| ■ i
j civilisation, and what can be discarded, in religion or politics, for j
i
! example. Because Mauberley is unable to discriminate between first-
| rate and inferior art, he
had passed, inconscient, full gaze
The wide-banded irides
And botticellian sprays implied
In their diastasis.
He is unable to recognize the values Pound presents in his poetry,
and consigns Pound to oblivion without understanding the "Medallion"
Pound presents to his age. Hugh Kenner suggests that Pound, through
such poems as Mauberley was in quest of an identity: All his early
work asks, "Who am i?"94 in Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, Pound knows very
well who he is. He knows he is not, and never was a Mauberley. The
question Pound asks is not addressed to himself, Who am I? Rather,
it is addressed to the reader: Who are You? What do you value?
i
i
FOOTNOTES FOR CHAPTER IV
1. Letter to A. R. Orage, London (April, 1919); rpt. The
Letters of Ezra Pound, p. 149.
2. Letter from Rapallo (January 24, 1931); rpt. Letters,
| p. 231.
3. Rapallo, (February 18, 1932); rpt. Letters, p. 239.
4. Ezra Pound; A Close-up, (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967),
I p. 160.
| 5. October 1920; rpt. Daniel D. Pearlman, The Barb of Time:
j On the Unity of Ezra Pound's Cantos, (New York: Oxford University
j Press, 1969
I
| 6 . "A Few Dont's," 1913; rpt. Literary Essays of Ezra Pound,
| ed. T. S. Eliot, (New York: New Directions, 1968), p. 4.
| 7. Letters, p. 150.
t
8 . The Poetry of Ezra Pound, (Norfolk, Conn.: New
| Directions, 1950), see pp. 179-81.
9. Ezra Pound's Mauberley: A Study in Composition,
j (London: Faber and Faber^ 1955), p. 86.
| 10. The Poetry of Ezra Pound: Forms and Renewal 1908-1920,
| Los Angeles: Univ. of Calif. Press, 1969), p. 162-63.
I
j 11. "Ezra Pound's Hugh Selwyn Mauberley," The Pelican Guide
| to English Literature: The Modern Age, ed. Boris Ford (Baltimore:
Penguin Books 1961), p. 320.
12. "Affirmations. VI. Analysis of this Decade," The New
Age, XVI, 15 (February 11, 1915), 409.
i 13. B. H. Dias, "Art Notes: The Function of Criticism,"
j The New Age, XXVI. 23 (April 8, 1920), 372.
14. Auceps, Letter to the Editor, The Egoist (March 2, 1914),
| P- 97.
20(7
208
15. Gaudier-Brzeska, Letter to the Editor, The Egoist,
(March 16, 1914), pp. 36-37.
16. "Remy de Gourmont," 1920; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 358.
17. Dias, "Art Notes," The New Age, XXVI. 18 (March 4, 1920)
292.
18. "A Retrospect," 1918; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 13.
19. Letter to John Quinn, from London, (January 10, 1917);
rpt. Letters, p. 102.
20. 1918, "Joyce," rpt. Literary Essays, p. 412.
21. 1918, "Dubliners and Mr. James Joyce," rpt. Literary
Essays, p. 400.
22. "Mr. Joyce and the Modern Stage," 1916, The Drama; rpt.
Pound/Joyce Letters, ed. Forrest Read (New York: New Directions,
1967), p. 50.
23. Dias, "Art Notes," The New Age (July 4, 1918), p. 155.
24. "Arnold Dolmetsch," 1918; rpt. Literary Essays, p. 435.
25. Dias, "Art Notes," The New Age (July 4, 1918), p. 155.
26. "Affirmations, III. Jacob Epstein," The New Age XVI,
12 (January 21, 1915), 312.
27. "Wyndham Lewis," The Egoist, I. 12 (June 15, 1914), 234.
28. "Praefatio Ad Lectorem Electum", Spirit of Romance, p. 8.
29. 1913, The Egoist; rpt. Literary Essays> p. 57.
30. "Affirmations. III. Jacob Epstein," The New Age,
(January 21, 1915), p. 312.
31. p. 588.
32. "Affirmations. III. Jacob Epstein," The New Age,
(January 21, 1915), p. 311.
33. (1834; rpt. Paris: Bibliotheque-Charpentier, 1924),
p. 82.
208
34. D1Albert reveals that in writing to Silvio, he presents
his true nature: "Tu es mon ami d'enfance . . . Je pois done te
conter, san rougir, toutes les niaseries qui traversent ma cervelle
inoccup£e; je n'ajouterai pas an mot, je ne retrancherai pas un mot,
je n'ai pas d'amour-propre avec toi. Aussi ji serai exactement
vrai." (Mademoiselle de Maupin, p. 39).
35. "How to Read," Literary Essays, p. 25.
36. Ezra Pound and Sextus Propertius (Austin: Univ. of
Texas Press, 1964), p. 67.
37. London (May, 1918); rpt. Letters, p. 135.
38. Paris (July 8, 1922), Letters, p. 178.
39. Letter from London (April, 1919), Letters, p. 148.
40. Letter to Felix Schelling, Paris (July 8, 1922), Letters,
p. 178.
41. "irony, Laforgue, and Some Satire," 1918, Poetry; rpt.
Literary Essays, p. 282.
42. "I Gather the Limbs of Osiris," The New Age, (February,
1912), quoted in Noel Stock, The Life of Ezra Pound (New York:
Pantheon Books, 1970) p. 112.
43. London (July 20, 1916), Letters, p. 87.
44. "The Approach to Paris," The New Age, XIII. 24 (October
9, 1913), 694.
45. "Hellenist Series . . . VI. Egoist, VI. 2 (March-April,
1920), 24.
46. (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1953), p. 118.
47. The New Age, XXI. 24 (October 11, 1917), 507.
48. The New Age, XXVI. 12 (January 22, 1920), 186.
49. "Wyndham Lewis" The Egoist (January 15, 1914), p. 234.
50. "The Revolt of Intelligence," The New Age, XXVI. 2
(November 13, 1919), 21.
51. "Studies in Contemporary Mentality . . . III. On Quarter
ly Publications," The New Age, XXI. 18 (August 30, 1917), 385.
210
52. "Studies on Contemporary Mentality," The New Age
(August 30, 1917), p. 385.
53. "Studies in Contemporary Mentality," The New Age
(September 6, 1917), p. 407.
I
i
I 54. "Irony, Laforgue, and Some Satire," 1917; rpt. Literary
j Essays, p. 280.
I
55. Pound, "E.P. Summary," n.d., rpt. The Little Review
I Anthology, ed. Margaret Andersen (New York: Hermitage House, 1953),
| p. 145.
| 56. Pound, "Editorial on Solicitous Doubt," n.d., Little
S Review Anthology, p. 22.
57. "Indiscretions, or Une Revue de Deux Mondes," 1923; rpt.
Pavannes and Divagations (London: Peter Owen, Ltd., 1958), p. 24.
| 58. Pound, "The Reader Critic: Letters," n.d., The Little
I Review Anthology, p. 146.
| 59. Pound, "Our Contemporaries," n.d., Anthology, p. 35.
60. Pound, "America: Chances and Remedies," The New Age
| (May 1, 1913), p. 9.
i
| 61. The Modern Age, p. 321.
i
| 62. The New Age (July 19, 1917), p. 268.
!
63. The New Age (January 3, 1918), p. 193.
! 64. Pavannes and Divisions, 1918; rpt., Pavannes and Divaga-
j tions, p. 96.
j 65. Pound, "The Revolt of Intelligence," The New Age,
j (January 15, 1920), p. 177.
| 66. "Two great obstacles to human fraternity are religion and
| nationality; of these religion is probably the worse; religious wars
I have probably been the most cruel and relentless; in them no laws of
j chivalry or laws of war were invented; religion has made internecine
i war, by massacres and inquisitions and tortures." Pound, "The Revolt
| of Intelligence," The New Age, (January 15, 1920), p. 176.
I 67. "Things to be Done," Poetry, IX. 6 (March, 1917), 313.
i
! 68. Pound, "Provincialism the Enemy," The New Age, XXI. 12
j (July 19, 1917), 268.
211
69. "Provincialism the Enemy II," The New Age (July 19, 1917).
p. 268.
70. "Studies in Contemporary Mentality XIII— The Celestial,"
The New Age (November 22, 1917), p. 69.
; 71. "Studies in Contemporary Mentality XIX— ? Versus Camou-
| flage." The New Age (January 10, 1918), p. 209.
| 72. (Letchworth: Garden City Press, 1913), p. 99. See Noel
| Stock, Life of Pound: "Accepting Upward wholeheartedly as the final
j word on folk-lore and the history of religions, Pound, . » ." (p... 142).
! 73. "Che Revolt of Intelligence," The New Age (January 15,
! 1920), p. 176.
74. London (November 15, 1918), Letters, p. 141.
| 75. Letter to H. L. Mencken, London (September 27, 1916),
j Letters, pp. 97-98.
76. The New Age, XXII. 1 (November 1, 1917), 11. .
j 77. The New Age, XXVI. 10 (January 8, 1920), 153.
78. London, November 15, 1918, Letters, pp. 139-41.
i 79. "Studies in Contemporary Mentality," The New Age
| (November 1, 1917), p. 11.
80. "Provincialism The Enemy," The New Age (August 2, 1917),
| p. 308.
| 81. Pound, "What America Has to Live Down," The New Age,
| XXIII. 17 (August 22, 1918), 266.
I
S 82. The New Age (August 2, 1917), p. 309.
!
83. The New Age (July 26, 1917), p. 289.
84. The New Age (March 11, 1920), p. 301.
85. "The Revolt of Intelligence III," The New Age (December
18, 1919), p. 106.
86. Letter from Paris, July 8, 1922; rpt. Letters, p. 181.
87. Pound, "Pastiche," The New Age (November 13, 1919), p. 32.
212
88. Bastien von Helmholtz (pseudonym for Pound), "On the
Imbecility of the Rich" The Egoist I. 20 (October 15, 1914), 389.
89. Letter to Harriet Monroe, London (November 9, 1914),
Letters, pp. 46-7.
90. Letter to James Vogel, Rapallo (November 21, 1928),
Letters, p. 221.
91. "Revolt of Intelligence, III" The New Age (December 18,
1919), p. 197.
92. "Gaudier: A Postscript 1934," Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 140.
93. Gaudier-Brzeska, p. 73.
94. The Pound Era, p. 267.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
213
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(June 1, 1915), 99.
American Library Association. Portrait Index. Washington, D.C.:
Library of Congress, 1906.
Anderson, Margaret, ed. The Little Review Anthology. 1953., New York:
| Hermitage House, 1964.
I Atheling, William. (Ezra PoundJ "Music: Some Recent Concerts."
The New Age, XXII, 10 (January 3, 1918), 189-90.
|
|_______ . "Music: Dammerung of the Piano." The New Age, XXII, 17
I (February 21, 1918), 334-35.
"Music: The Gaelic." The New Age, XXII, 22 (March 28,
I 1918), 434.
I
j . "Music: Varia (Raymonde Collignon)." The New Age, XXIII
I 3 (May 16, 1918), 44-45
j
I . "Music." The New Age, XXIII, 17 (August 22, 1918),
j 271-72.
i . "Music: Stroesco Improved." The New Age, XXIII, 3
(May 16, 1918), 44-45.
|
"Music: Functions of Criticism." The New Age, XXIII, 27
(October 31, 1918), 428-29.
________. "Music: Lamond, Tinayre, Collignon." The New Age, XXIV,
17 (February 27, 1919), 281.
| . "Music: Varia, Dolmetsch." The New Age, XXV, 8 (June 19
j 1919), 135-36.
i_______ . "Music." The New Age, XXVI, 5 (December 4, 1918), 78-79.
i
! . "Music: The Pye-ano." The New Age, XXVI, 9 (January 1,
j 1920), 144-45.
j
|_______ . "Music." The New Age,XXVI, 11 (January 15, 1920), 175-76
215
. "Music." The New Age, XXVI, 19 (March 11, 1920), 301-02.
. "Music." The New Age, XXVI, 24 (April 15, 1920), 338.
jAuceps. "Letter to the Editor." The Egoist, I, 5 (March 2, 1914),. 97.
|
I Bate, Walter Jackson. Criticism; The Major Texts. New York;
| Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc. 1952.
j Baumann, Walter. The Rose in the Steel Dust; An Examination of the
j Cantos of Ezra Pound. Berne; Francke Verlag, 1967.
I
I
| Bernoulli, J. J. Romische Ikonographie. Vol. II. Stuttgart;
| Spemann, 1882-94.
| Burke, Edmund. "A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas
| of the Sublime and Beautiful," in The Works and Correspondence
i of the Right Honorable Edmund Burke. Vol. II. London;
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Creator Berryman, Jo Brantley (author)

Core Title Ezra Pound Versus "Hugh Selwyn Mauberley": A Distinction

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program English

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Literature, Modern,OAI-PMH Harvest

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Advisor Davis, Donald (committee chair), Casson, Allan Perham (committee member), Knodel, Arthur J. (committee member)

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