Wallace Stevens Poems
Imagination vs. Reality: “The Poems of Our Climate” and “The Snow Man”
Wallace Stevens is known for his philosophical meditations on the dual nature of existence throughout his poetry. According to Stevens, poetry should not be concerned with either the body or the mind, but rather “an interdependence of the imagination and reality as equals.” It is rather difficult to interlock the two concepts as they stand on completely opposite poles of the human psyche. The affiliation between imagination and reality is what Stevens explores and attempts to define and explain: “Stevens’ poetry is both surreal (philosophical understanding for the lost) and real (the practical conclusion that Stevens can be just as lost as everyone else” (Zarzicki 12). Through the use of natural imagery and contemplative language in his two poems, “The Poems of Our Climate” and “The Snow Man,” the intricate and convoluted dualism of human existence becomes graspable.
The intricate duality of the physical and the metaphysical is portrayed in “The Poems of Our Climate.” In the first stanza, Stevens describes the physical appearance of the scene through the use of pure and serene words, such as “brilliant,” “clear,” “snowy,” “white,” “newly-fallen,” “cold,” and “porcelain.” Through this use of diction, Stevens illustrates a world that is beautifully silent and untouched due to its disassociation with human existence. However, this atmosphere is not ideal to him as complete detachment is not desirable: “Pink and white carnations—one desires so much more than that” (6-7), “Here the object—a bowl of pink and white carnations—promises an idealization, and just about delivers it, only to then provoke dissatisfaction” (Smith 47). There is both an allure and repulsion to a world that is untouched by humans.
Stevens’ choice of diction provides the scene with beauty and purity but also with apathy and distaste, which exemplifies the conflicting and bewildering relationship between imagination and reality. In the second stanza, Stevens displays the impossibility of reality without imagination: “in a world of white, a world of clear water, brilliant-edged, still one would want more, one would need more, more than a world of white and snowy scents” (14-17). Even though the human imagination can create deformities and complications on its own, it is still considered displeasing and unlivable. The phrase “snowy scents” is contradictory as snow does not contain a smell, and the “world of white” is blank with nothing to exhibit. There is no pleasure provided for the human senses in this world, therefore it is not satisfying or true. Stevens further explains the distastefulness of a pure world in the final stanza as he states, “There would still remain the never-resting mind, so that one would want to escape… the imperfect is our paradise” (18-21). Human existence requires constant fluctuation between imagination and reality in order to function. Neither sector can be completely apprehended or understood, they just both need to be present in some form.
Stevens also states, “The imperfect is so hot in us” (24). The presence of the word “hot” directly opposes the cold winter imagery within the first two stanzas of the poem, which further exemplifies the paradox of life: “Given our insatiable desire, the nature of our never-resting minds, and our inability to get the words right, we have only one option: to embrace the imperfect as “our paradise.” And once we have embraced the imperfect as our paradise, its bitterness becomes more and more compelling. ‘The imperfect is so hot in us’ that it becomes a kind of insatiable desire in itself. Getting it wrong, Stevens offers, is what it means to have a human mind. And the working of the mind provides its own delight” (Skorczewski 103). He concludes the poem with the statement that the imperfect “lies in flawed words and stubborn sounds” (25). Words are derived from the imagination, yet used to describe aspects of reality. Although such words are “flawed,” meaning they cannot completely unify imagination and reality, they are still crucial towards functional human existence; therefore reality and imagination must be used concurrently to allow for a desirable life.
While “The Poems of Our Climate” promotes the interweaving of imagination and reality, “The Snow Man” suggests complete detachment from imagination and the active mind. As seen previously in “Poems of Our Climate,” Stevens uses natural imagery in “The Snow Man” to describe a pure and serene winter environment: “pine-trees crusted with snow…junipers shagged with ice…spruces rough in the distant glitter” (1-4). He insists that one “must have a mind of winter,” a mind free of any subjectivity or warmth the senses: “he accepts and enjoys this bare scene, and there is nothing special in the place of his experience, or in himself for experiencing it there” (Cook 48). The mind is active and always adding, which is what influences human perception: “winter words for wintry matter, as elegant as any decoration, involve our feelings as directly as image can…it involves our minds” (Tindall 23). In order to establish a mind of winter, one must banish the imaginative mind and focus only on the concrete, emotionless aspects of the physical world.
The imagery is dramatically simplified and subdued in the second half of the poem as sensory richness deteriorates and the mind becomes colder: “In the sound of a few leaves, which is the sound of the land, full of the same wind that is blowing in the same bare place” (9-12). Stevens’ description of the scene of the poem is austere and subdued, which is necessary towards the establishment of a mind of winter. The final stanza takes a turn on the poem as a whole. Stevens introduces “the nothing,” a revelation of nothingness in which winter evokes. In this stanza, “there are two kinds of nothingness—‘the nothingness that is’ and ‘nothing,’ which is the absence of something. The greater lack is the latter—the absence of imagination in the man who ‘beholds nothing that is not there’” (Oster 159). When one stops creating the world they perceive, the world loses its meaning, which Stevens structurally portrays as the poem ends once the speaker’s creative principle of imagination has disappeared. Through the placement of the word “the” before “nothing” and “nothingness,” the concept becomes conceptualized, and affirms yet limits the process of decreation: “He (the speaker) has become the snow man, and he knows winter with a mind of winter, knows it in his strictest reality, stripped of all imagination and human feeling. But at that point when he sees the winter scene reduced to absolute fact, as the object not of the mind, but of the perfect perceptual eye that sees ‘nothing that is not there,’ then the scene has become ‘the nothing that is’” (Pack 68). Through this poignant ideology, Stevens untangles the paradoxical jumble of human existence, allowing the reader to better comprehend the dualism of perception.
Stevens’ language in “The Snow Man” is demanding as the beginning words of the poem, “One must,” forcefully prepare the reader for what must happen. However, Stevens does not intend to advocate anything; he intends to suggest the reader stop and observe their mind and to try to uncover the genuine satisfaction of the physical world outside of the imagination: “the only life worth living is the one generated from the imagination, not the scientific, unemotional mode that most people are forced to adopt…this hypothesis can seem ironic. If the reader is the snow man, then appreciation for the natural world will spring forth with tremendous ease” (Zarzicki 19). Stevens shifts between different theories of imagination and reality and their affects on the human psyche, which exemplifies the mercurial nature of existence.
Stevens emphasizes the greater importance of the imagination in this poem, however both poles of the duality still remain, which illustrates the complex inseparability of the physical and metaphysical in daily life. Both “The Poems of Our Climate” and “The Snow Man” explore the oscillation between imagination and reality when meditating on human existence. Both poems also do so by presenting a reality barren of humanity, which is portrayed as incomplete and hollow, but also beautiful. No matter how hard one tries to diminish the creative mind, imagination and reality will always be interlaced, which complicates yet beautifies the duality of human perception.
Skipping Church on Sunday Morning: An Examination of the Rejection of Systems of Truth in Wallace Stevens’ Poem “Sunday Morning”
Wallace Stevens, it seems, never spoke a great deal about his poem “Sunday Morning.” Because Stevens gives us very little insight into his own thoughts, it is important to examine the thoughts of other critics before analyzing a poem such as “Sunday Morning.” In an essay titled “Pound/Sevens: Whose Era?” Marjorie Perloff brings together criticism from herself and other critics to paint a picture of Stevens’ views on religion. She references Lucky Beckett, who says that modernist poets such as Stevens are characterized by the study of “belief and value in a world without established systems of truth” (Perloff 3). Another critic, Walton Litz, is more specific in his characterization of Stevens:Steven’s final mundo is neither eccentric nor private. It is built upon the central reality of our age, the death of the gods and of the great coordinating mythologies, and in their place it offers the austere satisfactions of a ‘self’ dependent on the pure poetry of the physical world, a ‘self’ whose terrifying lack of belief is turned into a source of freedom. (Perloff 3)This idea that Stevens believed that the old systems of truth, such as Christianity, had failed in the modern world and that people should find freedom and peace in the natural world outside of any of the old systems is the underlying theme to his poem “Sunday Morning.” The poem begins with a woman lounging outside on a sunny Sunday morning, instead of being in church, where she should be. She is enjoying small material delights: the delicate feel of her dressing gown, her breakfast of coffee and oranges, and the presence of the “green freedom of a cockatoo / Upon a rug” (4). But aside from providing simple material pleasures, all of these things work to “dissipate / The holy hush of ancient sacrifice” (4-5). This can be interpreted several ways, but I believe that these simple material pleasures are working to diminish the solemnity of remembering the tragic sacrifice of Jesus; in the presence of such simple, natural joy, this woman is unable to experience the mourning that Christianity provokes its followers to feel every Sunday morning in remembrance of the sacrifice of Jesus.Yet despite the little pleasures she is feeling, she is unable to avoid thinking on the subject. As she reclines in the sun, “She dreams a little, and she feels the dark / Encroachment of that old catastrophe” (6-7). She is thinking of death and her inevitable appointment to meet with Him. In the absence of religious faith, how is she supposed to face such an inevitable catastrophe? With this worry on her mind, “a calm darkens among water-lights. / The pungent oranges and bright, green wings / Seem things in some procession of the dead, / Winding across wide water, without sound” (8-12). Suddenly, in the face of death, she is unable to feel the same joy she felt earlier. The day takes on an overwhelmingly solemn feeling, threatening to drown her. Yet her thoughts persist and progress as her dreams move “to Silent Palestine, / Dominion of the blood and sepulchre” (14-15). This is a reference to Jesus Christ and his death in Judaea, Palestine. It seems here that it is not the thoughts of the woman, but rather the voice of the narrator, that names the death site of Jesus Christ as the “Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.” This line, I believe, reveals Stevens’ opinion of Christianity and other religions; though Palestine and the sepulchre are specific references to Christianity, this part of the world holds great significance for many other religions. Therefore, this line can be interpreted as being directed at religion in its entirety. But instead of being the realm of eternal life, which is the belief that all who follow Christianity and most religions hold, it is the dominion of the grave; faith in religion will not bring one to eternal life. To say that there is a grave for Jesus goes against Christian teachings, which claim that he was reincarnated and then ascended to heaven. It also seems to be playing on the Last Supper sacrament of taking the blood and body of Christ in the form of wine and bread. By replacing the body of Christ with the grave, Stevens is recognizing Jesus not as an immortal god-figure, but as a man who lived and died like any other.The second stanza is the thought process of the woman working through the question of religion. She opens by wondering why she should worship a figure such as Jesus when she knows that he is dead. Simply by posing this question, she has acknowledged the fact that she does not believe that he is the Son of God, for she knows that he was mortal. She then questions the value of “divinity if it can come / Only in silent shadows and in dreams” (17-18). The teachings of Christianity and the faith one is required to have in order to achieve divinity, she believes, are not real and tangible things, but rather false illusions formed from the mind of man. Instead of the shadows and dreams of religion, she will find comfort and pleasure in nature, and cherish these things with the same reverence with which those that follow religion cherish “the thought of heaven” (19-22). She then decides that “Divinity must live within herself” (23). Yet it seems that her essence is somehow tied to nature. The second half of this stanza aligns her moods and experiences with different aspects of the natural world, finally coming to the conclusion that “All pleasures and all pains, remembering / The bough of summer and the winter branch. / These are the measures destined for her soul” (28-30). This last line is a very important one, because by mentioning the woman’s soul, we discern that this is not an argument for atheism. It becomes somewhat paradoxical, because though Stevens has no faith in Christianity (a system of truth that has failed in the modern world), it appears he still believes in some supernatural human essence. Does he believe that there is a part of us that goes on after death? Or is he simply referring to the woman as she exists in life? Perhaps this will be revealed by the end of the poem.The third stanza seems to leave the thoughts of the woman and enter into the mind of the narrator. He chronicles for us the process of religious myth creating a closer relationship with god(s) and man. He begins with Jove, believed by the Romans to be King of the Gods; according to myth, Jove was born completely detached from man (31). This is referring to the time in which man believed the gods to be entities entirely separate from humankind. Over time, religion progressed to a point in which the gods “moved among us, as a muttering king, / Magnificent, would move among his hinds” (34-35). As religious belief evolved through the centuries, the gods started to have a closer relationship with man; this specific line is referring to myths about the gods mating with humans. Finally, Christianity was created, and “our blood, commingling, virginal, / With heaven, brought such a requital to desire / The very hinds discerned it, in a star” (36-38). The most popular form of Western religion, Christianity, is the greatest extent to which religion has combined man and god; the worship of Jesus Christ as God in the form of man is the greatest commingling of the blood of man and the blood of God that we have achieved. The path of religious progression, as demonstrated by the history above, has one rational ending: the complete unity of God and man. It is with this thought in mind that Stevens asks us, “Shall our blood fail? Or shall it come to be / The blood of paradise? And shall the earth / Seem all of paradise that we shall know?” (39-41). Religion has continued to fail man to the point that it has had to be changed over and over again, but each time it changes, man plays a greater role. Stevens seems to believe that mankind will succeed when we have eliminated God, or fully merged with God, in our religious practices – when we come to view the earth, instead of some other realm, as paradise. Any other such ending would be a failure on the part of man. He believes that when this happens, “The sky will be much friendlier then than now, / A part of labor and a part of pain, / And next in glory to enduring love, / Not this dividing and indifferent blue” (42-45). By taking God out of the sky, the sky and all of the earth will be far more beautiful than it is now.The fourth stanza returns to the woman from the beginning of the poem. As in the first stanza of the poem, the woman takes pleasure from the presence of nature. She describes a beautiful summer morning scene in which the chirping of birds can be heard through the morning mists of a field. She wonders, however, “when the birds are gone, and their warm fields / Return no more, where, then, is paradise?” (49-50). Lines 51-56 reveal that paradise is not found anywhere else outside of nature; Stevens lists for us several supernatural places that have been believed to be the location of paradise, yet all of these beliefs have faded into the past; there are none that have “endured / As April’s green endures” (56-57). He then personalizes the natural spiritual experience for the woman; April’s green is a paradise that all can visit, but for her, paradise is “her remembrance of awakened birds, / Or her desire for June and evening, tipped / By the consummation of the swallow’s wings” (58-60). I believe that Stevens is showing us the vast appeal that nature has, and how every individual person can find their own piece of paradise in its domain.But despite the pleasure and contentment she feels from nature, she still feels “The need of some imperishable bliss” (62). Then follows what is perhaps the most famous passage in the poem, in which Stevens declares that “Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, / Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams / And our desires” (63-65). From death comes our fulfillment for imperishable bliss. Because of death, we can appreciate what is beautiful in the world; if nothing were to ever die, it would become the norm, and be boring and unfulfilling. Because we know a person or a moment will eventually be gone, we are able to appreciate them to their fullest while we have them. The poem continues on the subject of death, saying that though death will inevitably take us all, it is death that “makes the willow shiver in the sun / For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze / Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet. / She causes boys to pile new plums and pears / On disregarded plate. The maidens taste / And stray impassioned on the littering leaves” (70-75). It is hard to decipher, but I believe these lines claim death to be not only the mother of beauty, but the mother love; because of death men and women seek to love one another; without our own mortality, we would not seek the comfort of another human being. Perhaps, then, Stevens is saying that love, derived from the knowledge of death, is the answer to this woman’s desire for “some imperishable bliss.”The sixth stanza presents an image of paradise as it is most often viewed by religion. The common opinion of religious paradise is a place one goes to after death in which there is no longer any death. But, according to Stevens, there can be no beauty without death, so a place without death would not be paradise. He presents to us a view of nature, yet an unchanging and un-nourishing view of nature that such a “paradise” would hold, a place where ripe fruit would never fall to the hungry mouths of man and where the land would always look the same, the shorelines unchanging (77-82). He asks, “Why set the pear upon those river-banks / Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?” (83-84). This is a reference to the lovemaking scene described in the previous stanza. In a place like this, we would never die, therefore we would never seek the “imperishable bliss” of love. It also gives new meaning to the mirrored lines in the previous stanza, because now death has become the mother of art as well. In the same way that we would not love without death, man would feel no desire to create new art if there were no death. Men would no longer “pile new plums and pears / On disregarded plate” — men would no longer renew the same old artistic mediums with the creation of new art. The stanza ends with the restatement that “death is the mother of beauty, mystical, / Within whose burning bosom we devise / Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly” (88-90). I believe that the beliefs mentioned here, of a mystical death and of our earthly mothers waiting in it afterwards, are in relation to the same belief in the traditional religious paradise presented in this stanza; common religious belief, that which has been “devised” by man, lends death a mystical element and makes us believe that those we once knew are waiting for us on the other side. This, Stevens believes, is not the case.The seventh stanza opens with the image of what seems to be a pagan ritual. This image seems to be the ideal form of religion that Stevens has been working to describe throughout the entire poem. It is important to note, however, that this is not a reversion back to man’s primitive beliefs; the men celebrate “their devotion to the sun, / Not as a god, but as a god might be, / Naked among them, like a savage source” (93-95). They do not believe that the sun is some powerful, supernatural being; they simply recognize it as the source for the natural world in which they live and love. These men have come to recognize that the natural world around them is paradise (96). And they have achieved the final stage of religious progression detailed in stanza three; the blood of god has been fully merged with them, for they chant “out of their blood, returning to the sky” (97); the traditional religious hierarchy of god(s) being in the sky speaking to man has been completely reversed and man now sends his voice into the sky. The next lines follow the voices of the chanting men as they flow through the countryside, washing over the land. There is no more need for heaven because their “lord,” the sun, is reflected in the lake, and the trees are their angels now, “that choir among themselves long afterward,” singing the song of paradise long after the people have left (99-101). This is the heavenly fellowship of man, nature, and death described in the following two lines. The final lines of the stanza say that no matter what these men do, they will always be reminded of their new “heavenly fellowship” by the “dew upon their feet,” or by the constant presence of nature.We are finally returned to the woman of the beginning of the poem in the final stanza. We are reminded of her deep contemplation, walking upon the wide water of her thoughts that threaten to drown her. In her thoughts she hears a voice, saying “The tomb in Palestine / Is not the porch of spirits lingering. / It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay” (107-109). As mentioned previously, this is contrary to Christian belief, which says that Jesus does not lie in a grave, but that he ascended to heaven after he was reincarnated. This final voice in the woman’s thoughts solidifies her rejection of Christianity.The following four lines are hard to interpret. We leave the thoughts of the woman yet again, and are given a new description of the life in which we currently live (110-113). I cannot tell if these lines are speaking positively or negatively about the current way in which we live. Does he say we live in an “old chaos of the sun” because we are torn over religious ideals? Or does he mean the universe itself is chaos, and therefore is impossible for us to explain or comprehend? How can we be free of the wide water if it is inescapable? If the wide water represents death, are we creating a sort of negative solitude for ourselves in not accepting it, in imagining that we live free of it by putting faith in these religions? That is the only thing I can think to make sense of it, but it is simply too ambiguous and vague to tell. The poem ends with more visions of nature, though this nature seems to reflect the “chaos of the sun” mentioned a few lines back; the cries of the quail are spontaneous, life bursts into bloom in the wilderness, and the birds in the sky soar with no discernible pattern (115-120).Narrowing down Stevens’ entire belief structure is a difficult task when viewing this one poem. It is clear that he desires to reject religion as it has so far existed in the history of man. He wants to take man’s faith out of religious ideals and place them into the world in which we live. It does not seem, however, that he rejects the idea of a god; this poem does not come across as atheistic, but I do not know if calling it agnostic is accurate either. I would not declare it to be advocating for paganism either, as paganism usually refers to a religion of multiple gods. One could say that he is promoting a Naturalist religion, but it does not seem that he is encouraging the worship of nature as a god. It might be safe to say that Stevens is promoting a naturalistic philosophy in which one abandons existing religious practices and celebrates the beauty of the natural world.In the end, whether or not his exact beliefs can be established does not stop us from seeing how Stevens’ poem “Sunday Morning” embodied the sense of the time that the old belief structures and systems of truth had failed. Stevens uses his poem to reject those structures and invite a new understanding of death which, when comprehended, grants an individual freedom from the fear of letting go of those old structures.Works CitedPerloff, Marjorie. “Pound/Stevens: Whose Era?” The Dance of the Intellect. Evanston, IL: Northwestern UP, 1996. 1-32. Print.
Analysis of “Nuances of a Theme by Williams”
The title of Wallace Stevens’ poem “Nuances of a Theme by Williams” implies that he intends to comment on, possibly celebrate, and almost certainly explore the potential distinctions and variations available in the poem by William Carlos Williams titled “El Hombre.” Stevens includes “El Hombre,” in its entirety minus the title, in the opening four lines of his poem with the implication (again based on the, at worst, neutral title of Stevens’ poem as well as the seemingly tributary inclusion of “El Hombre”) that his re-workings and explorations of his colleague’s piece will maintain its essence and, presumably, not bear it much, if any, antipathy. The title, however, proves to be misleading and Stevens’ subsequent lines appear to be less of a nuanced exploration of Williams’ poem than a criticism of what he sees as its faults: namely the sentimentality, anthropomorphizing, and romantic detachedness of the narrator that is present especially in the first two lines. It is particularly the first stanza of Williams’ poem that Stevens takes issue with and he does so, at least in part, by way of its second stanza. Stevens attaches himself to two phrases, “shine alone” (3) and “lend no part” (4), that bookend the second stanza of Williams’ poem and uses them as his access points to the poem. He quotes the two phrases directly, elevating them to the opening words of both of his subsequent stanzas, though in doing so he also very purposefully changes their meaning. The first line of Stevens’ composition, “Shine alone, shine nakedly, shine like bronze” (5) seems, appropriately, to satisfy the expectations of the title while also being characteristic of Stevens’ playful perspectivist aesthetic tendencies (reminiscent, perhaps, of “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”); beginning with the two-word phrase taken directly from Williams’ piece, Stevens’ proceeds to stretch it into a richer, more textured imperative description of the same “ancient star” (2) addressed in Williams’ poem.Nonetheless, the succeeding two lines that make up the rest of Stevens’ first stanza diverge from mere variation into what seems to be an invective response to the opening lines of Williams’ poem: “It’s a strange courage/you give me, ancient star” (1-2). Stevens appears to be concerned with the fact that Williams sort of anthropomorphizes the star, which seems to be the rising sun, and instills it with the ability to give courage. He says of the sun that it must shine like something that “reflects neither [his] face nor any inner part/of [his] being” (6-7) and, ultimately, “like fire, that mirrors nothing” (7). Stevens’ deliberate dissociation with the sun (as a stand-in for nature) reflects his belief that one should apprehend nature without embellishing it; that the things of nature should not be used as means to access the triumphs or despairs of humanity. Where in Stevens’ “The Snowman” it is only with “a mind of winter” (1) that one can hear “the sound of the land” (10) without being distracted by “any misery in the sound of the wind” (8), so must Williams’ sun, in Stevens’ conception, mirror “nothing that is not there” (The Snowman, 15) if it is to be truly apprehended.With the entirety of Stevens’ first stanza in mind, the variations in his first line (that continues and concludes in the third with “shine like fire”) read less playfully and more like a slow, deliberate distancing from the humanness of the word “alone.” For “alone” is rarely used to describe the state of an inanimate object by itself, which wouldn’t require the recognition of being outside of a society of similar objects since society is limited to animate creatures. So Stevens re-forms the description as “nakedly.” That first step, though, is only a small step away from animation since it evokes the idea of being without clothes. But the adverb “nakedly” is, in fact, more commonly used to describe the nature of concepts or ideas, as in “plainly” or “blatantly,” and less the physical state of one’s dress. With the second transformation, “like bronze,” however, the less subtle split with animation begins. With “like bronze” Stevens has reformulated an idea of the sun as merely resembling something. Though it is a man-made something, which, therefore, maintains an inevitable if convoluted connection to the human realm. So, Stevens’ necessarily searches for one more angle, “like fire,” and the split with humanity is complete; the sun is reduced to something natural, independent of human existence, but, more importantly, it is reduced to precisely what it is.The sun is precisely something that in Stevens’ view should “lend no part to any humanity that suffuses/[the sun] in its own light” (8-9) as Williams does. For like Stevens declares in his later poem “Things of August”: “The rich earth, of its own self made rich,/Fertile of its own leaves” (51-52), so must the shining sun, of its own self shine. It appears that Stevens’ wishes to forget all human history of sun worship and mythology and relish the sun as it is perceived in the moment, in the present, by an individual person. Yet, in communicating his point, Stevens’ says that the sun should “be not chimera of the morning” (10). “Chimera” carries the meaning of “illusion” or “daydream” as if warning against being tricked into seeing the sun as more than it is, or as something that it is not. But “chimera” also carries the connotation of the mythical creature that was made of various animal parts and had an intelligence. So in this moment, while Stevens’ argument is ostensibly sustained, he undermines it slightly by constructing it around such a contradictory notion, even if only as a means to negate it. The final three lines of the poem continue in this vein of ridding the sun of any ancient residual meaning. He ironically says the star should “Be not an intelligence/Like a widow’s bird/Or and old horse” (12-15). These comparisons are ironic simply because Stevens would not grant intelligence to a bird or horse, but he knows that they are often thought of that way. A lonely widow gives more meaning and power to her avian companion and a farmer may attribute wisdom to a horse that has weathered much. Stevens slyly insults the romantic sentimentality of Williams’ poem by putting it on the same level as the foolish and uneducated figures suggested in his closing lines.It seems that Stevens sees Williams’ poem as weak and sentimental. Stevens’ poem is an exercise of his mind on Williams’ theme, enacted to deliberately and systematically gain control over the emotional preoccupations of the poem. I would suppose that, ultimately, Williams would not only have appreciated the criticisms of Stevens, but also would have agreed with them. I feel as though “El Hombre” is, at least on a basic level, an immature poem of Williams’ that would not have fit into his later, more distinctly formulated views.
The Life of the Party: Hedonism in Wallace Stevens’s “The Emperor of Ice Cream”
An event marked by sex and celebration, the wake in Wallace Stevens’s “The Emperor of Ice-Cream” is inescapably bizarre. Though one might expect an air of sobriety, importance, or – at the very least – reflection to characterize a discussion of death, the poem’s language and content are instead suffused with an almost nonsensical air of pomp. An unnamed speaker acts as master of ceremonies, encouraging mourners to engage in behaviors more fit for a party than a funeral, while simultaneously scorning the lifeless corpse for the same sexual revelries. Further obscuring the poem is the odd refrain, “The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.” Though many parts of Wallace’s verse seem more concerned with clouding meaning than creating it, there is sense hiding beneath every line. Using contrasting sexual imagery to create a mockery of conventional grieving practices, Stevens describes a funeral that embraces life instead of lamenting death, and subsequently exposes the hypocrisy that stems from humanity’s obsession with mortality. The first stanza of the poem describes a strangely exuberant scene of mourning that resembles a lusty celebration more than a wake. Right away, the speaker makes two demands that indicate the oddly convivial nature of the gathering; he demands that someone “Call for the roller of big cigars” and “bid him whip / in kitchen cups concupiscent curds.” In the Western world, cigars are generally acknoweldged as symbols of celebration – revelers light them up at the birth of a baby, or following a lucrative business agreement; they are not often associated with death and mourning. The preparation of “concupiscent curds” is also at odds with the tenor of the event. Since “concupiscent” means something that is eagerly or sexually desirous, the custards being made are imbued with lust, essentially aphrodisiacal; apparently, the pursuit of sexual pleasure will not be delayed while the dead body is prepared for burial. The lasciviousness and color of the “muscular one’s” creamy dishes may also be a subtle allusion to certain intimate fluids – a sexual vision supported by the mild phallic imagery of the “big cigars.” Heightening the sense of jovial merriment, the assonance of “i” sounds in “bid him whip” and the alliteration of “c” in “kitchen cups concupiscent curds” both impart a pleasing, rhythmic sweetness to the poem. The commands to the boys and girls in the first stanza also detract from the expected sobriety of a funeral by encouraging lively, sexual interactions. The speaker says to “Let the wenches dawdle in such dress / As they are used to wear.” By telling the women to retain their normal garments instead of donning the appropriately grave, black clothing usually required for such an event, the speaker slights the standard of funereal reverence. However, the odd wording of “dress / As they are used to wear” and the emphasis placed on that line by the poem’s sole use of rigid iambic pentameter points to a more active lampooning of the wake. Stevens’ phrasing of “are used to wear” is grammatically incorrect – this should read: “used to wearing.” And his choice in diction (“are used to” over other words and phrasings such as “often”, “typically”, or “wont”) is equally curious. (“Wont,” because it upholds the current meter and syntax while creating a pleasant alliteration with “wear”, would be a wonderfully apt word.) The secondary meaning of another peculiar word choice, “wenches” (meaning lewd women or prostitutes), can explain Wallace’s description of the women’s clothing. When considered in the context of harlots or loose women, rather than maids or servants, “dress / as they are used to wear” plays off an admittedly derogatory conception of women. The line becomes a command that the women only wear their normal clothes – the clothes in which they are routinely “used” – but to act in their normal, “sexual” way, as well. Stevens’s wenches are not alone in being prodded towards sexual interactions; the speaker also commands complimentary behavior from the boys at the wake. The boys are called to “Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers.” The fact that these flowers are held in “newspapers”, and “last month’s” as well, rather than being bare or in more pleasantly decorative wrappings (as one typically imagines the flowers at funerals or wakes) suggests that these are an inappropriate contribution to the events. In fact, it seems that the flowers are not for the dead woman at all. The boys are actually following a different cultural convention; they are delivering ragtag street bouquets to their dates, the wenches who sit idly “dawdling” for their men. Like the “concupiscent curds” and the wenches’ dresses that “they are used to wear”, these flowers are symbols of and precursors to fun and courtship. Although they are out of place at this scene of death, they would fit in perfectly at a hedonistic celebration of life. While the first stanza applies lusty diction and rhythms to create an atmosphere of pleasure and revelry, the second half of the poem uses these same themes as fodder for contempt and scorn. The use of sexual imagery is steeped in negative connotations when the speaker describes the corpse. The dead woman’s feet are “horny”, suggesting that she empitomizes vulgar sexuality even after her life has ended. This crude criticism is heightened by the line break after “they come” – a particularly crass allusion that implies that her feet are so sexually aroused that they approach orgasm even after death. That both of these insinuations are made using street-yard slang rather than the subtle intimations of the first stanza also speaks to the negative portrayal of sexuality in the poem. Shame is even found in death: the speaker calls for a sheet to be spread “so as to cover her face.” The fact that the sheet may not be long enough to cover both the corpse’s head and toes also suggests a continuation of her promiscuity; her body will not be properly covered in death, just as it was improperly exposed in life. In a final moment of indignity, the woman is reduced to a pun: “she is…dumb”: without life, she is mute; while alive, she was stupid. While the wenches and boys of the first stanza were encouraged to act sexually, the dead woman is criticized for engaging in the exact same behaviors. Although this creates a conflicting view of sexuality in the text, the ambiguity is resolved by unpacking the obscure refrain at the end of each stanza. The first half concludes with the words “Let be be finale of seem / The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream”; the second reads, “Let the lamp affix its beam / The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.” The two couplets possess multiple similarities that make them deserving of a joint comparison: they use the same rhyme; they have a similar syntactical structure; they conclude in exactly the same manner; the first lines are both imperatives beginning with “Let”; they are thematically linked. Interestingly, the first line of each couplet deals with the difficulty of assigning truth. “Let be be finale of seem” stresses the importance of objective, actual truth: “be”, as the “finale” of reality, reigns over the subjective perceptions of “seem”. Relying on an archetypical image, “Let the lamp affix its beam” is a metaphorical replication of the same idea: let truth be shown. Subsequently, both set up a verity contained in the next line, “The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.” Yet, what is that truth? An “emperor” suggests a powerful sovereign considered superior even to a king. Ice-cream, however, is a dessert, not an empire or state; the emperor, then, must preside over what ice-cream represents: something sugary and delightful – a vice, a delicacy that must be gobbled up before it melts. In the context of a poem focused on mortality, this “delicacy” must be the fading pleasures of life. The “be” and “seem” of life can then be considered as the first and second stanzas of the poem. The “be” is the truth in enjoying the moment, the lusty carousal of the wenches and boys who, through both physical copulation and hedonistic merriment, continue to cherish life. They proceed despite the “seem”, which embodies the looming specter of death that will lead to their derision, just as it does for the dead body. They continue because death may seem like the end, but the pleasure in life is the true finale. In his contrasting uses of sexual imagery, Stevens exposes the hypocrisy behind man’s willingness to allow the end to change his outlook on the present – in other words, the idiocy in letting death alter one’s view of life. By placing the party before the wake, readers are forced to recognize the joy in life and question why it is tarnished by death. Though this message of carpe diem may appear inappropriate and nonsensical to some readers, Wallace’s use of Christian rhetoric indicates just how seriously he treats this subject. The four apostrophic imperatives beginning with “Let” echo God’s commands at the beginning of Genesis, but even the Lord, the Christian “king” of piousness and morality, is subject to the whims of the hedonistic “emperor” of ice cream. And so too is his religious dogmatism: the forceful Christian rhetoric employed by the speaker is so at odds with the poem’s message that it must be considered satire. After all, if the emperor is a good host, then he would want his guests to enjoy themselves at his party.