Nature/prison, God/poet

I wonder whether the speaker of “The Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” still thinks of it as a prison by the end of the poem. While the poem starts out with this title and then the assertion in the second line, the poem ends on the rather celebratory line “No sound is dissonant which tells of Life” (76). He is sad, at first, that he’ll be missing the experience of being in nature—“I have lost/Beauties and feelings, such as would have been/Most sweet to my remembrance” (2-4)—but that does not stop him from imagining it clearly. His description in the first stanza of the “branchless ash/Unsunned and damp” (13-4) or the “green file of long lank weeks” (17) is so detailed that the reader may even forget that the speaker is missing out on the scene at the time of writing—of course, his past experiences of nature come together in the poem. The walk that the narrator imagines for his friends continues in the second stanza, framed with such certainty that it’s difficult to realize that this is not happening—he writes “my friends emerge” (20) not, ‘I imagine my friends emerge’ or anything that would indicate that he has no proof of what is happening.

His ability to imagine the scene so completely is almost proof that he doesn’t need to be in nature—in fact, it makes me think it may be better that he isn’t, so that the natural world he’s envisioning in such detail does not disappoint. He seems to convince himself, at least: by the final stanza he recognizes that “’Tis well to be bereft of promised good” (65). While he is deprived of the temporal beauty of nature and of the perhaps more lasting beauty of the memory it would inspire, we are rewarded with the beauty of the poem, which will last longer than either the walk or the memory would have. That the narrator is forced to not join his friends is beneficial for the reader, who would not get to read the poem otherwise. This aligns with one of the ideas from his lecture on “Mechanic vs. Organic Form,” on “the power of acting creatively under laws of its own origination” (p. 501)—the speaker needs the “prison” to become a poet, needs the limitations in order to use his imagination.

No matter how hidden, though, his friends of the poem are the friends of his mind and not his actual friends. Thus the speaker creates a world in the poem that is parallel to actual reality—his imagined Charlie being not the ‘real’ Charlie, and the plants/landscapes he writes of being a combination of his memories and ideas about what it must be like where they are. Of course, this occurs when a poet writes any poem—we always have the layer of ‘speaker’ between the poem and the author; it is just doubled, in a sense, in this poem.

This speaker takes ownership over the natural world—or at least the version of it that he creates—in the final stanza when he describes the rook and claims “I blessed it!” (70). Having begun to address nature directly in the second stanza, his creation of the world of the poem is Godlike at the end. He puts himself on the same level as Nature; he doesn’t even need to be in it to create it. This idea is in line with how Wordsworth ends the Prelude—it is ultimately the man’s/poet’s imagination that makes Nature/life beautiful, moreso than it is nature by itself. Imagination is man’s version of a Godlike creation. The association of the poet with God carries over to “Frost at Midnight”—even just simply in the poem’s father/son premise. The speaker describes God has having an “eternal language” that he “Utters” (60, 61). God’s use of “language” to create echoes the poet’s—and the idea that God will “mould/Thy spirit” (63-4) with these words suggests the Romantic view of poetry as able to change the world through continued creation—a rather godlike notion.

Coleridge also addresses the connection of God/Nature/Poet in his essay “On Symbol and Allegory”---“The fact, therefore, that the mind of man in its own primary and constituional forms represents the laws of nature, is a mystery which of itself should suffice to make us religious: for it is a problem of which God is the only solution, God, the one before all, and of all, and through all!” (p. 503). This goes with the ideas of the poem, connecting nature with God and, then, with the poet---suggesting that God works through the poet or as the poet or in some combination of these ideas. Either way, the divinity of nature translates to divinity of the poet when it is clear that the poet’s imagination reigns over even nature, as it seems to in “The Lime-Tree Bower My Prison.”

A Philosophical Inquiry of Coleridge

In Coleridge’s account of the Imagination and Fancy he cleaves a space between the two, seeming to paint the Imagination as mainly a  functional mental facet rather than creativity. He states that there are two elements to Imagination, primary and secondary, where the primary is “the living power and prime agent of all human perception” and the secondary is “an echo of the former….It dissolves, diffuses, dissipates, in order to recreate… it struggles to idealize and to unify” (491). And from both of these he separates Fancy entirely, calling it a whim that “has no other counters to play with but fixities and definites” and  “a mode of memory emancipated from the order of time and space” (491). With this separation though it seems as though intention has been permanently separated from Imagination and solely exists in Fancy which is strictly linked to the physical world.

The picture of the mind that Coleridge creates, as I interpret this chapter, is a field of perception (primary Imagination) on/with which Fancy operates in tandem with a force (secondary Imagination) seeking to unify the desired with the actual. Thus Imagination operates purely in the subconscious: at once both the ground of perception and the innate method through which perception is manipulated. And this understanding of the Imagination then informs Coleridge’s ideas of thought in “The Eolian Harp” where the narrator states “Full many a thought uncalled and undetained,/ And many idle flitting phantasies,/ Traverse my indolent and passive brain,/ As wild and various as the random gales/ That swell and flutter on this subject lute” (440). His thoughts here are varied and unintended like the wind, and yet also like the wind he is able to make art out of these seemingly random trains of thought. And thus poetry, at least in this comparison, feels accidental, an unintended consequence of a natural process. So I think we then have to ask a question: does Coleridge believe poetry is something attainable without intense manipulation and effort or is it practically untameable?

Coleridge and Religion

When I first read, "The Eolian Harp", I thought that Coleridge was describing God's power as less than that of Nature's. But upon another look, I realized that the last stanza is filled with that narrator's exclamation of faith.
He is thanking his wife, Sara, "O beloved woman" for having thoughts and faith more collected than his own (50). She sets him straight when his mind wanders too much to "walk humbly with my God" (52). Previously in the poem, the narrator is indulging in thoughts of nature's power. He refers to his thoughts as "idle flitting phantasies" and wonders if "all of animated nature / Be but organic harps diversely framed" (40, 44 - 45). Instead of giving into these thoughts on nature, as Wordsworth would, Coleridge is brought back down to earth by his wife. And he curves his thoughts and refers to them as "vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring" (57).
The reason as to why he stops these thoughts comes at the end when he claims that the only time he doesn't feel guilty when speaking of greater power like nature and God, is "when with awe / I praise him" (59 - 60).
I find this so interesting because it's as if he wants to appreciate nature and question it's power but doesn't want to overstep his bounds when it comes to religion. He is almost shoo-ing his questions and thoughts on the universe away to prove his complete faith in God, instead of really relating these thoughts to God.

A Second Chance: "Frost at Midnight" in Conversation with "Anecdote for Fathers"

            “Frost at Midnight” sees Samuel Coleridge express his aspirations for his son as he rocks the infant to sleep at night.  In doing so, Coleridge imagines for his son a life in the country, where he can maintain a closer relationship with nature. “Frost at Midnight” is similar to “Anecdote For Fathers,” a poem that also saw a father project his ideal perceptions onto a son.  Both poems underscore how parents presumptively define their children, placing expectations on their kin that may prove to be confining in the future.

            In “Anecdote For Fathers,” the father in question struggles to discern some deeper meaning from his child’s statement that he would prefer to be at Kilve rather than Liswyn farm.  This demonstrates the assumption on the father’s part that his child’s mind is operating with the same logic as an adult’s.  However, this expectation is proven to be incorrect when the son states that the presence of a weather vane was a deciding factor in his selection of Kilve.  Similarly, Coleridge’s poem operates on the assumption that his child will have a better childhood in the country than his father did in the city.  This is because Coleridge believes in the country his son will have more of a communion with nature, and therefore will be more capable of understanding the “eternal language” (Coleridge, 60) of God.  Coleridge draws from his own experiences in his assessment of life in the country as superior to urban life.  For example, Coleridge states that as a child of the city he was, “pent ‘mid cloisters dim, / And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars” (Coleridge, 52-53).

            The hope of a father to cultivate a better life for his son is a natural tendency.  However, like the misplaced beliefs of the father in “Anecdote For Fathers,” the belief that one knows what is best for one’s children (based on the adult’s individual experience) demonstrates hubris.  Moreover, such expectations could also prove limiting to children.  The child of Coleridge, for example, may develop beliefs concerning the city and the country that conflict with those of his father.  Moreover, “Frost at Midnight” demonstrates a certainty on the part of Coleridge that is impractical. For example, Coleridge states to his son, “all seasons shall be sweet to thee” (Coleridge, 65).  Such an expectation – that his son will always be happy when living in nature – demonstrates an irrational optimism that can only come from having a blank slate for a child.  Coleridge has high expectations for his son’s life that reality will ultimately fail to fulfill.

            Both the father in “Anecdote for Fathers” and Coleridge in “Frost at Midnight” have a desire for their sons to be successful.  For example, the father in “Anecdote for Fathers” at first hopes his son will subscribe to the norms of logic and reason in his preference of setting.  Coleridge in “Frost at Midnight” hopes that his son will exceed him in terms of his relationship with nature.  This is demonstrated by the evocation of the “secret ministry of frost” (Coleridge, 72), an artifact of nature Coleridge fails to understand.  Coleridge’s implication is that his son (who, when he is raised in the countryside, will become a child of nature in the eyes of Coleridge) may one day be able to understand the mysteries that Coleridge himself does not – those of nature, and of God.  Therefore, Coleridge’s son represents a second chance for his father.

            In “Frost at Midnight,” Coleridge takes notice of a piece of film that is fluttering in a grate.   Coleridge remarks how the film, “By its own moods interprets, every where / Echo or mirror seeking of itself” (Coleridge, 21-22).  Both the film and Coleridge’s child provide “mirrors” for Coleridge - the poet can see his own thoughts and aspirations reflected in them.  This is because both the film and Coleridge’s own son are empty vessels.  With the absence of any personality in his child, Coleridge is capable of assigning any possible future to his son.  Because his child has not yet grown, Coleridge does not reach the same conclusion as the speaker in “Anecdote For Fathers.”  He does not yet realize that his own son can be a teacher just as he is.

Plot

 Wordsworth Prelude is the kind of work that needs to be read multiple times in order to fully understand and appreciate every idea Wordsworth offers throughout the text. I will probably look back at this Prelude in the future and realise things that did not even occur to me on my first or second reading. One of the things that I find most interesting about this piece is that there is no "traditional" plot. Instead, Wordsworth seems to follow an inner/ mental logicwhere he introduces ideas about poets, youth, nature, and life.Although this piece is structured by only the actions of Wordsworth's ideas, it obviously follows what Wordsworth considers the development of poet's life as a poet. I believe that choosing this structure was perfect for this piece because it allowed Wordsworth to say everything he needed to say in a thoughtful manner. If he had decided to follow a traditional plot line, it would have been hard for him to say everything he did say while keeping an overarching tone.

As part of his development,Wordsworth talks about his time spent in London.  "How often  in the overflowing streets / Have I gone forwards with the crowd, and said/ Unto myself, 'The face of every one/ That passes me is a mystery .'" When I first read this, I automatically related with what Wordsworth said. This made the poem seem very timeless. The first line of this section has a footnote that states, "Wordsworth spent a few unhappy months in London in 1791." After reading that footnote I felt somewhat tricked. Wordsworth refers to his times in London often in his works and he has always had this fixed idea about it. Upon learning that he only stayed in London for a few months, I found his steadfast belief in the cruelty of the city to be somewhat premature and headstrong. I feel like a ew months in a place doesn't allow someone to know a certain place completely. one thing I liked about Wordsworth and his poetry was that he showed room for flexibility or change in his ideas. But there has yet to be a poem we have read in this class where he even second guesses his ideas about cities this made reading therest of book seven a little challenging for me because I was constantly questioning if I could trust Wordsworth as a narrator. 

Immortality in Book Fifth

The line that immediately interested me in Wordsworth's Book Fifth of the Prelude was "Why, gifted with such powers to send abroad/ Her spirit, must it lodge in shrines so frail?" (46/7). Here, Wordsworth looks at the spiritual nature versus the physical nature. Although, I think he was referring to the mind, his ideas of the strength of the spirituality being outfitted in something as comparatively weak, like the physical body, can be extended to humans as well. Wordsworth looks at the body as being like clothing for the soul, but he writes, "Tremblings of the heart/ It gives, to think that the immortal being/ No more shall need such garments" (21-3). Again, the physical body is deemed almost unnecessary for the soul to survive, but Wordsworth argues that even though he believes the soul can live on without the body, it is still a frightening idea that the body is almost superfluous. With this idea comes the notion of immortality. Wordsworth argues that humans want to be immortal and they want to leave a legacy behind them, perhaps even letting their souls live on. On the other hand, the idea of living on without a body is a terrifying idea. How can one live on when he or she is also afraid to let go of the physical layer to let only the spiritual level continue? Wordsworth's lines 46 and 46 play into this idea. Why, when the mind has so many wonderful gifts to give, must it feel compelled to stay within the confines of its physical self? Within these lines, Wordsworth appears to question how powerful the spiritual self is. He looks at the mind and sees its ability to make a mark on everything in nature, but how it still stays confined within the body. Wordsworth sees the mind as the strongest part of humans, but it also is the most afraid.

A One Sided Relationship: Worsworth and Nature

While reading the prelude for class on Tuesday, I noticed a small detail in book first which greatly change my perspective on the works of Wordsworth as a whole. He writes that "I believe That Nature, oftentimes, when she would frame A favored being, from his earliest dawn Of infancy doth open out the clouds...not the less, Though haply aiming at the self-same end, Does it delight her sometimes to employ Severer intentions, ministry More palpable - and so she dealt with me." Wordsworth, despite the love and praise he has heaped upon nature, does not considered himself one of her favored beings. He believes that she has treated him harsher, though perhaps to the same end as she heaps favor upon others. In the light of this line, the idea of Nature as something worshipped in Wordsworths works only grew stronger to me. To me, the idea that he gives Nature his love despite not feeling like one of her most favored children, and puts his faith in her having reasons for her treatment of him, seems a sort of unquestioning, religious devotion. This also caused me to reread some of his poems as less him celebrating his relationship with Nature and more his admiring the idea of Nature, an unattainable beauty serving as the muse to his work. “Three years she grew” in particular changed for me in this new context, as the speaker’s deference to Nature as she takes Lucy makes more thematic sense. Wordsworth does not question Nature for taking Lucy, it fits into the idea of Lucy being one of Nature’s favored beings, and the speaker as one whom Nature treats with severity, in the removal of Lucy.