further from the beasts
The American philosopher Richard Rorty, who died earlier this year, writes in Poetry magazine:*
"Cultures with richer vocabularies are more fully human — farther removed from the beasts — than those with poorer ones; individual men and women are more fully human when their memories are amply stocked with verses."
One could have said "when their memories are more amply stocked with" almost anything, but he is saying something here about language. He's not saying "human" as in, "nice, warm, cuddly, absolutely lovely, really, and, in fact, made in the image of God," nor is his statement as invitation to meditations on the Nazi love of Schubert. Note also that he says "cultures," not "languages." He's saying something about a continuum of meaning that runs from "being human" through thought and language, to the accoutrements of that language - words - to "verses," which are the highest application of those words as themselves, not simply in service. At least, that's how I read it.
Try it with "ergo" inserted after the semi-colon.
I've been having a running conversation lately about editing, or writing, as being a soldier for language - my friend is a sub, & feels passionately about his role of making things correct. Within the construct of the conversation I, by writing poetry and - equally - poetry criticism, am said to be on the front line of the Battle for English - actually taking new territory (not through the merits of my work, you understand, as my friend hasn't read it, but by virtue of the activity). I'd like to think it's true. I'm fighting for our language so you don't have to.
Continuing, or rather preceding, his previous statement, Rorty (discussing his reading in the light of knowing he was dying) writes:
"I now wish that I had spent somewhat more of my life with verse. This is not because I fear having missed out on truths that are incapable of statement in prose. There are no such truths; there is nothing about death that Swinburne and Landor knew but Epicurus and Heidegger failed to grasp. Rather, it is because I would have lived more fully if I had been able to rattle off more old chestnuts — just as I would have if I had made more close friends."
This uncompromising, observation-based assessment (with its marvellous poetic/philosophical compass in the middle) has the same kind of beauty as a poem itself, of course.
* (I keep thinking I might not renew my subscription... and then I keep renewing it. It's hardly worth not.)
9 comments:
The quote from Rorty was worth reading, if only because, with all the universe of poets to choose from as representatives, he picked Swinburne and Landor--such eccentric choices in this day and age, that one suspects he spent a bit more time with verse than he was letting on.
Hi Richard, well of course he never says he didn't spend time with it - he only says he wishes he'd spent more! He also, in the article itself, says he doesn't keep up with contemporary poetry and instead just goes back to the things he liked in school - in which context, given his age, Swinburne and Landor doesn't seem so strange! Did you read the whole piece? It's full of good stuff.
Anyway it doesn't matter what I read or don't read, I seem incapable of memorising anything loner than a phone number. My brain at the end will be a wrung-out sponge.
I read the essay. I've not read any of Mr Rorty's philosophical works. If the essay is representative, then I find myself disagreeing with it in so many different ways.
I actually laughed when I read: "We hope instead that human life here on earth will become richer as the centuries go by because the language used by our remote descendants will have more resources than ours did. Our vocabulary will stand to theirs as that of our primitive ancestors stands to ours."
Soldier for language? Battle for English? Emotive stuff, but what does it actually mean?
Perhaps you're right. My father, who never willingly read a line of poetry once he'd left college (except, perhaps, for mine, and then only to point out that it didn't make any sense), can still produce odd scraps of Vachel Lindsay, Kipling, and Swinburne. Hard to believe Swinburne was once the stuff of schoolboys. I wonder if they worked up Lesbia Brandon for their exams. Of course that's prose. Otherwise....
Rik, my subediting friend is also in the army. To him, life's a fight. I've seen him ready to draw bayonets over a comma.
Anyway, you know arch is my middle name, so please feel free to sprinkle scare quotes through that whole passage! (I won't tell Sergeant Sub where to find you...)
Rorty, well I disagree with his "more is better" principle of vocabulary; there are many elements to language besides words. I even wrote a slightly satirical poem years ago, when my babies were little, about Wittgenstein's ideas about language and intelligence...
Furthermore, there is no case at all to be made for modern (or even modern ERA) poetry being in any way more effective than earlier poetry. (As the old jazz boys say, it ain't the meat, it's the motion.)
But, you know, I love that in this extreme moment of his life it was language - language as fine art, if you will - that consoled him and lends meaning to his experience.
And that it was Swinburne I find intensely charming!
The American philosopher Richard Rorty, who died earlier this year, writes in Poetry magazine:*
It's amazing what medical science can achieve these days.
Thank you very much, Francis. It was a form of, ahem, words...
"anything loner than a phone number" ... did you mean "lonelier"? Phone numbers can be very lonely, you know. :-)
Andrew, hi there! Clearly I meant "longer." I just couldn't make it all the way through.
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